have been waiting impatiently to come to you and tell you that I am thinking of you every hour.”
A smile was upon her lips. Indeed you are! she thought. For on me depends whether or not you will be, in a few short weeks, crowned King of France.
“You have always been so thoughtful,” she murmured.
“I trust you are in good health … ?” His eyes strayed about her body.
“In excellent health,” she answered.
“And not indisposed in any way?”
“I am as well as can be expected … in the circumstances.”
She saw the lights of alarm shoot up in his eyes, and a tremor of laughter ran through her. Serve you right, Francois, she thought. Did you not bring out the big German in the hope that you would unseat Charles? You might have harmed him … if he had not been so much better than your German.
“The circumstances … ?” he began.
“Have you forgotten that I have recently become a widow?”
His relief was obvious. Where was his old subtlety? It had deserted him, so anxious was he.
“I feared the King’s health was growing steadily worse in the weeks before his death.”
“Yet there were times when he was so gay … almost like a young man. Why, only just before his death …”
Francois clenched his fists. He was longing to ask her outright: Are you
He left her, no wiser about this important matter than before.
Louise and Marguerite embraced Francois when he came to them direct from the Hotel de Clugny.
Louise looked earnestly into his face.
“Did you discover?”
Francois shook his head mournfully.
“She might not know yet,” suggested Marguerite.
“Surely if there were already signs she would have told you!” protested Louise.
“She would have been only too ready to make it known,” mused Marguerite. “She would be so proud to be mother of the King of France.”
Louise covered her face with her hands. “Do not say that.” She shivered. “If it were true I think I should die of melancholy.”
Francois went to his mother and put his arm about her shoulder. She gave him the smile which was kept for him alone.
“Dearest, we should still be together,” he said.
“And while the world held you, my King, there would be a reason for living. But that another should have that which is yours! I think I should be ready to strangle the brat at birth.”
“I doubt they would allow you to be present at the birth,” retorted Marguerite grimly.
“You must not despair,” said Francois. “I do not think Louis was capable.”
Marguerite looked at her brother steadily. “And others?” she asked.
“I think the Queen was … entirely virtuous.”
Mother and daughter showed their relief. At least Francois had not shared her bed, and they were inclined to think that Louis, who was even weaker than they had realized, must have been incapable of begetting a child.
“The point is,” said Marguerite precisely, “is it possible for the Queen to be
“It is certainly possible,” Francois said.
“But if she is a virtuous woman, unlikely,” went on Marguerite.
“In a few weeks we should know,” put in Louise.
“And even if we should learn that the Queen is
“Even you do not understand,” cried Louise. “For years I have been in torment. I have seen the crown so near and suffered the frustration. And now I know I am near the end of that dreaded uncertainty, but it might prove that all my worst fears will be realized. It has been too long. …”
“Mother dear,” said Francois, “we shall soon be out of our misery. Let us remember that.”
She slipped her hand through his arm and laid her cheek against his sleeve while she looked up at him adoringly.
“Trust my King to soothe me,” she murmured.
“Whatever happens,” Francois reminded her, “we have each other. Remember … the trinity.”
“Yes,” said Louise fiercely, “but it must be a trinity with the King of France at the apex.”
“I have a feeling it will be,” said Marguerite calmly.
