After he had left her, she found the pain of unrequited love was easier to bear. Perhaps, she thought, it will not always be thus.
Heavily cloaked and closely hooded, accompanied by the youngest of her women, Catherine left Les Tournelles and hurried through the streets of Paris.
She was going to see the astrologer brothers who lived on the left bank of the Seine close to the Pont Notre-Dame. The house could be approached from the street or the river, for at the back, its stone steps led down to the water, where two boats were kept moored to carry away any who might wish to leave by a different route from the one by which they had come. Catherine was delighted with the prudence which the brothers had shown by selecting such a house.
Most of the court ladies visited astrologers whose business included the sale of charms and perfumes; but these French ladies visited French magicians. The Italians were not only unpopular in France; they were suspected of all sorts of evil practices. Stories of the reign of terror under Alessandro in Florence circulated; it was known that Ippolito had been murdered, it was suspected that Clement had died through poison.
The Italians, thought the French, were skilled in all the arts of poisoning.
Therefore, reasoned Catherine, at such a time she would not wish to be seen making a hurried visit to the house of the Italian sorcerers.
She had impressed on Madalenna, her young Italian attendant, that she wished none to know of their journey this evening to the house of the brothers.
She smiled faintly at the small figure beside her. Madalenna was to be trusted.
They reached the shop, descended the three stone steps, pushed open the door and went into a room in which were shelves where stood great jars and bottles. From the ceiling hung herbs of many kinds; and on the bench lay the skeleton of a small animal among the charms and charts.
The two brothers came into the shop, which was lighted only by a candle that guttered and showed some sign of flickering out altogether. When they saw who their visitor was they bowed obsequiously, thrusting their hands into the wide sleeves of their magician’s robes, and waiting, with bent heads to hear the commands of their Duchess.
‘You have my new perfume for me, Cosmo?’ she asked, turning to one of the brothers.
‘It is ready, Duchessina. I will have it sent to you tomorrow.’
‘That is good.’
Lorenzo waited with his brother for her commands; they knew she had not come thus― when she might have sent for them― merely to ask about a new perfume.
Madalenna hovered uncertainly in the background. Catherine, turning to her, said loudly: ‘Madalenna, there is no need to stand hack. Lorenzo, Cosmo, bring forth the new perfume. I would hear Madalenna’s opinion of it.’
The brother looked at each other. They knew their Duchess; they remembered a meek little girl who had asked for an image of Alessandro that she might, through it, bring about the death of that monster. She had something on her mind now.
They brought the perfume. Lorenzo took Madalenna’s hand while Cosmo thrust into a bottle a thin glass rod. He wiped the now perfume-smeared rod on Madalenna’s hand, bid her wait for a few moments, and both brothers stood back as though spellbound, waiting for the moment when the perfume would be ready for Madalenna to smell it.
And all the time their eyes were furtive. What had brought the Duchess here at such an hour?
‘It is wonderful!’ declared Madalenna.
‘See that it is sent to me tomorrow,’ said Catherine. And then: ‘You know I did not come here merely to smell a perfume. Lorenzo, Cosmo, what have you discovered for me? Is there any news of a child? You may speak before Madalenna, this dear child knows my secrets.’
‘Duchess, there is yet no news of a child.’
She clenched and unclenched her hands. ‘But when? When?― It must be some time.’
They did not answer.
Catherine shrugged her shoulders. ‘I will look into the crystal myself.
Madalenna, sit down and wait. I shall not be long.’
She drew aside the heavy curtains which divided the shop from a room at the back. In this room was a large cabinet which the brothers always kept locked and which Catherine knew to contain many secret hiding places. She sat down while the brothers drew the curtains, shutting off the shop and Madalenna.
Catherine stared into the crystal; she could see nothing. The brothers waited respectfully.
Suddenly she turned to them and spoke, and they now knew the real reason for her visit. ‘There is a young Count,’ she said, ‘who wishes to serve his country. Should he come to you and wish to talk of his native land― our native land― in our native tongue, be kind to him. If he should ask for a love potion to enhance his charms in his mistress’ eyes― or if he should ask for a draught of any sort, give it him. You may trust him.’
The brothers looked at each other apprehensively. Catherine’s eyes revealed nothing; her face held the innocence of a child’s.
The court was on the move once more, and this time there was a reason, other than the King’s restlessness, behind the move.
Catherine rode with the Petite Bande, keeping close to the King and Madame d’Etampes. A place of honour― yet how she longed to be of her husband’s suite; but there was no place since it was ruled by her hated enemy, whom Henry continued to adore. Catherine was hiding her passion and her jealousy with success; she could laugh as loudly as any surrounding the King.
As they halted at various towns and châteaux on their way from Paris to Lyons, there were lavish entertainments for the amusement of the King.
Madame d’Etampes and the Queen of Navarre put their heads together to devise plays and masques. Countless beautiful girls had been brought with them, and there were some to be found on the way. They danced before the King; they tried to secure his interest by boldness and modesty in turn; but Francis was half-hearted, for war was spreading over France, and it was the invasion by the Emperor’s troops, of the fair land of Provence, that was sending the court hurrying from Paris down to Lyons.
It was in Lyons that Catherine betrayed herself.
She was with her women in her apartments when Henry came in. Her heart beat in the mad fashion it was accustomed to when he was with her. She hastily dismissed her women, trying to suppress the emotion which possessed her.
He said: ‘I am afraid I disturb you. I am sorry.’
‘There are occasions when it is good to be disturbed.’ They were alone now, and she could not prevent her eyes shining with an eager passion. She added breathlessly: ‘I pray to the saints that there may be many such disturbances.’
He looked at her in a puzzled way, not comprehending. She felt slightly impatient with him; but oddly enough she loved him the more for that slowness of wit which exasperated his father.
‘Pray, be seated, Henry,’ she said, tapping the window seat and sitting there, making room for him as she drew in her pearl-embroidered skirts.
It was unbearable to have him so close and to feel that was so far away. Was he thinking now of Diane? She doubted it, for he looked unhappy, and he was never unhappy thinking of Diane.
He said: ‘This is a sorry state of affairs.’
She touched his arm, and although she knew he hated to touched by her, she could not withdraw her hand. But now he did not seem to notice.
He went on: ‘Have you not heard the news? Montmorency is retreating before the Imperial troops. Tomorrow my father leaves for Valence.’
‘Oh, another move? I was thinking I have scarce seen you since we left Paris.’