"I meant to do so yesterday; to-day I no longer intend it. You speak
of it rather coolly."
"Between the daughter of an apothecary and that of a doctor there is
no great difference," replied Touchet, always ready to laugh at the
false origin attributed to her.
The king frowned.
"Marie, don't take such liberties. Catherine de' Medici is my mother,
and you ought to tremble lest--"
"What is it you fear?"
"Poison!" cried the king, beside himself.
"Poor child!" cried Marie, restraining her tears; for the sight of
such strength united to such weakness touched her deeply. "Ah!" she
continued, "you make me hate Madame Catherine, who has been so good to
me; her kindness now seems perfidy. Why is she so kind to me, and bad
to you? During my stay in Dauphine I heard many things about the
beginning of your reign which you concealed from me; it seems to me
that the queen, your mother, is the real cause of all your troubles."
"In what way?" cried the king, deeply interested.
"Women whose souls and whose intentions are pure use virtue wherewith
to rule the men they love; but women who do not seek good rule men
through their evil instincts.
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