“That I can promse you,” said Janet gleefully. “She is banished from this day.”

They lay together smiling, each thinking of the glorious future which lay ahead of her.

MARY FORGOT the excitement of the Court for a while. With her four friends she went to stay with her grandmother at Meudon. Her grandfather, Duke Claude, was very ill and not expected to live. She knew that soon her uncle François would be the Duke of Guise and head of the house. But she did not see him. It was her uncle, Cardinal Charles, with whom she spent much of her time.

They would walk about the estate together and the Cardinal’s eyes would gleam as they watched her. He studied her so closely that Mary blushed for fear he would find some fault in her. There were occasions when he would take her into his private chamber; she would sit on his knee and he would fondle her. He frightened her a little, while he fascinated her; her wide eyes would stare, almost involuntarily, at those long slim fingers which ceaselessly caressed her. She did not know whether she liked or hated those caresses. They fascinated yet repelled. Sometimes he would make her look into his face, and it was as though he were making her subject to his will. His long light eyes with the dark lashes were so beautiful that she wanted to look at them, although she was afraid; they were tender and malicious, gentle and cruel; and beneath them were faint shadows. His mouth was straight and long; it was the most beautiful mouth she had ever seen when it smiled—and it smiled often for her.

There was a delicious odor about his person; it clung to his linen. He bathed regularly; he was, it was said, the most fastidious gentleman of France. Jewels glittered on his hands, and the colors of those jewels were tastefully blended. Her grandparents were in some awe of him and seemed to have almost as much respect for him as they had for Uncle François.

“Always obey your Uncle François and your Uncle Charles,” she was continually told.

That was what they all wished to impress upon her. Even her new brother—whom she discovered in her grandparents’ house—the Duc de Longueville, the son of her mother by her first husband, hinted and implied that it was her duty.

Everyone was telling her that the most important thing in the world was the power of the Guises, and as she played with her Marys she could not completely forget it. She felt like a plant in a forcing house on those occasions in the perfumed chamber of the Cardinal when he talked to her of her duty and how she must make young François her completely devoted slave so that he gave way to her in all things.

“When you are older,” said the Cardinal, putting his hands on her shoulders and pressing her small body to his, “when you begin to bud into womanhood, then, my sweet and beautiful niece, you must learn how to make the Dauphin entirely yours.”

“Yes, Monsieur le Cardinal.”

He laid his cool lips against her forehead, and, when she received his kiss, for some reason she could not understand she began to tremble.

WHEN MARY returned to Court the excitement regarding the King and Diane had reached its zenith, for Diane was recovered and had come back to Court.

Mary overheard strange whispers.

“Now the fun will start.”

“While the cat is away the mice play.”

“And do you know that mice are very fertile?”

“My dear Duchesse!”

“My dear Count, I assure you, I have noticed!”

Lady Fleming, Mary realized, was more excited than ever.

One day when Mary was in her apartment, she heard her governess talking to one of the Queen’s ladies. Janet was saying: “Yes, it is true, and God be thanked for it. I am with child by the King and I feel honored. I feel so full of health. There is some magical property in the royal blood, I’ll swear!”

Mary was astounded. She decided she would seek out Lady Fleming and demand a full explanation; but when she sought her she could not find her. None of the attendants appeared to know what had happened to her. The King was riding with Madame de Valentinois who had returned from Anet. She was somewhat frail but more beautiful than ever, and the King was like a devoted husband who, after a long separation, is able to enjoy the beloved company of his wife. He could not leave the Duchesse’s side; he must spend every minute with her. Perhaps he wished to explain a little affair in which he had regrettably indulged during her absence; perhaps he wished to tell her that it should never have happened—and would not, had she been there—that it had been begun in a moment of desperate longing for herself.

And she would understand. She would tell him that she understood him now as she had when he was a shy prince with no thought of mounting the throne. She had shown him how to act like a great prince; now she would show him how to act like a great king.

Life would be as it had always been at Court. Queen Diane would rule through the King; those entwined initials H and D were as firm as they had ever been, as closely entwined. The foolish Fleming woman would have to be banished from Court and then forgotten. It was no indiscretion to bear the King’s bastard. The folly lay in boasting of the honor.

The Queen of France agreed with her husband and his mistress. She was eager to help. Would the King allow her to deal with this little matter? He knew how she abhorred scandal. The little peccadillo she accepted. It was inevitable. It was the flouting of Court etiquette that she could not endure.

The King and Diane were grateful to her. Neither of them wished to hear any more of the disposal of the matter, which they felt sure could be left entirely to the Queens capable handling.

CATHERINE CAME stealthily into Lady Fleming’s chamber. Janet rose from the bed on which she was lying and fell to her knees before the Queen of France. She lifted fearful eyes to the flat expressionless face.

“You may rise,” said Catherine. She laughed suddenly. “We should not have known yet,” she added, “had you not boasted so freely.”

“Your Majesty, I implore your forgiveness….”

The Queen lifted her shoulders. “The King chose to honor you. You should not ask my forgiveness for that. How many times?”

“Your Majesty…”

“How many times?” insisted the Queen. Again that laugh. “So many that you cannot remember? It began on the night of the masque which I arranged. Well, now Madame de Valentinois has returned, and your services are no longer required.”

“Your Majesty, I will be content to obey your command.”

“My command is that you leave the Court this night.”

“Leave the Court…”

“Have no fear. Arrangements have been made. Remember you carry a royal bastard. You will be cared for and doubtless the child will be brought to Court. The King, as you have doubtless heard, had a child by a girl of Piedmont. It happened when he was away from France. You understand? The blood is hot and there is always some wanton at hand who can amuse for an hour until something better can be found.” The Queen laughed again. “It is the way of all men, my dear Lady Fleming, and kings are no exceptions.”

Janet covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “Madame,” she sobbed, “I beg of you, let me stay. I have been sent here to guard the Queen of Scots.”

“I have another guardian for her. Do not weep so. It is bad for the child. Be prepared to leave in an hour. Where you are going you will have women to talk to. You may tell them how you were got with child by a most exalted person, but you shall not mention his name although you may describe all else in detail.”

The door opened and Mary stood on the threshold.

“I have looked everywhere—” she began, and saw the Queen of France. She immediately curtsied.

“Ah,” said Catherine, “here is her Scottish Majesty.”