Ir was in the month of May 1574, and in the city of Paris, that, at an hour of the night which in these days might be considered somewhat early, but which at that period was already late, two personages were seated in a gloomy room, belonging to a small and ancient hotel, at no great distance from the old palace of the Louvre, with which it was supposed to communicate by courts and passages little known and seldom used.

One of these personages was a woman of middle age, whose form, although full, was peculiarly well made, and whose delicate but well fleshed hands were of striking beauty. The fair face was full and fat, but very pale; the eyes were fine and dark, and the whole expression of her physiognomy was in general calm, almost to mildness. But yet there lurked a haughty air on that pale brow; and at times a look of searching inquisitiveness, amounting almost to cunning, shot from those dark eyes. Her ample dress was entirely black, and unrelieved by any of the embroidery or ornament so much lavished upon the dress of the higher classes at that time; a pair of long white ruffles turned back upon the sleeve, and a large standing collar of spotless purity, alone gave light to the dark picture of her form. Upon her head she wore a sort of skull-cap of black velvet, descending with a sharp peak upon her forehead-the cowl-like air of which might almost have given her the appearance of the superior of some monastic community, had not the cold imperious phvsiognomy of the abbess been modified by a frequent bland smile, which showed her power of assuming the. arts of seduction at will, and her practice of courts. She leaned her

SHAKSPEARE.

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arms upon the table, whilst she studied with evident curiosity every movement of her companion, who was engaged in poring, by the light of a lamp, over a variety of strange manuscripts, all covered with the figures, cyphers, and hieroglyphics used in cabalistic calculations.

This other personage was a man, whose appearance of age seemed to be more studied than real. His grey hair, contrary to the custom of the times, fell in thick locks upon his shoulders; and a white beard swept his dark velvet robe, which was fashioned to bestow upon him an air of priestly dignity; but his face was florid, and full of vigour, and the few wrinkles were furrowed only upon his brow.

Around the room, the dark old panels of which, unrelieved by pictures and hangings, rendered it gloomy and severe, were scattered books and instruments, such as were used by the astronomers, or rather astrologers, of the day, and a variety of other objects of a bizarre and mysterious form, which, as the light of the lamp flickered feebly upon them, might have been taken, in their dark nooks, for the crouching forms of familiar imps, attendant upon a sorcerer. After some study of his manuscripts, the old man shook his head, and, rising, walked to the window, which stood open upon a heavy stone balcony. The night was bright and calm; not a cloud, not a vapour dimmed the glitter of the countless myriads of stars in the firmament; and the moon poured down a flood of light upon the roofs of the surrounding houses, and on the dark towers of the not far distant Louvre, which seemed quietly sleeping in the mild night-air, whilst within were fermenting pas

sions, many and dark, like the troubled dreams of the apparently tranquil sleeper. As the old man stepped upon the balcony, he turned up his head with an assumed air of inspiration to the sky, and considered the stars long and in silence. The female had also risen and followed him to the window; but she remained cautiously in the shadow of the interior of the room, whence she watched with increasing interest the face of the astrologer. Again, after this study of the stars, the old man returned to his table, and began to trace new figures in various corners of the patterned horoscopes, and make new calculations. The female stood before him, resting her hands upon the table, awaiting with patience the result of these mysteries of the cabala.

"Each new experience verifies the former," said the astrologer, raising up his head at last. "The truth cannot be concealed from your majesty. Ilis hours are numbered-he cannot live long."

"And it is of a surety he, of whom the stars thus speak?" enquired the female thus addressed, without emotion.

"The horoscopes all clash and cross each other in many lines," answered the astrologer: "but they are not confounded with his. The horoscope of near and inevitable death is that of your son Charles, the King."

"I know that he must die," said the Queen-mother coldly, sitting down.

The astrologer raised for an instant his deep-set, but piercing grey eyes, to the pale, passionless face of the Queen, as if he could have read the thoughts passing within. There was almost a sneer upon his lip, as though he would have said, that perhaps none knew it better; but that expression flickered only, like a passing flash of faint summer lightning, and he quickly resumed

"But about this point of death are centred many confused and jarring lines in an inextricable web; and bright as they look to vulgar eyes, yon stars in the heavens shine with a lurid light to those who know to look upon them with the eyes of science; and upon their path is a dim trail of blood-troubled and harassed shall be the last hours of this reign."

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"But what shall be the issue, Ruggieri?" said the Queen eagerly. Since Charles must die, I must resign myself to the will of destiny," she added, with an air of pious humility; and then, as if throwing aside a mask which she thought needless before the astrologer, she continued with a bitterness which amounted almost to passion in one externally so cold-"Since Charles must die, he can be spared. He has thrown off my maternal authority; and with the obstinacy of suspicion, he has thwarted all my efforts to resume that power which he has wrested from me, and which his weak hands wield so ill. He has been taught to look upon me with mistrust; in vain I have combated this influence, and if it grow upon him, mistrust will ripen into hate. He regrets that great masterstroke of policy, which, by destroying all those cursed Huguenots, delivered us at one blow from our most deadly enemies. He has spoken of it with horror. He has dared to blame me. He has taken Henry of Navarre, the recusant Huguenot, the false wavering Catholic, to his counsels lately. He is my son no longer, since he no longer acknowledges his mother's will: and he can be spared! But when he is gone, what shall be the issue, Ruggieri? how stand the other horoscopes?

"The stars of the two Henrys rise together in the heavens" replied the Queen's astrologer and confidant. "Before them stands a house of double glory, which promises a double crown; but the order of the heavens is not such that I can read as yet, which of the two shall first enter it, or enter it alone."

"A double crown!" said the Queen musingly. "Henry of Anjou, my son, is king of Poland, and on his brother's death is rightful king of France. Yes, and he shall be king of France, and wear its crown. Henry never thwarted his mother's will, he was ever pliant as a reed to do her bidding; and when he is king, Catherine of Medicis may again resume the reins of power. You had predicted that he would soon return to France; and I promised him he should return, when unwillingly he accepted that barbarian crown, which Charles' sel

fish policy forced upon him, in order to rid himself of a brother whom he hated as a rival-hated because I loved him. Yes, he shall return to resume his rightful crown-a double crown! But Henry of Navarre also wears a crown, although it be a barren one-although the kingdom of Navarre bestow upon him a mere empty title. Shall it be his-the double crown? Oh! no! no! The stars cannot surely say it. Should all my sons die childless, it is his by right. But they shall not die to leave him their heir. No! sooner shall the last means be applied, and the detested son perish, as did his hated mother, by one of those incomprehensible diseases for which medicine has no cure. A double crown! Shall his be the crown of France also? Never! Ah! little did I think, Ruggieri, when I bestowed upon him my daughter Margaret's hand, and thus lured him and his abhorred party to the court to finish them with one blow, that Margaret of Valois would become a traitress to her own mother, and protect a husband whom she accepted so unwillingly! But Margaret is ambitious for her husband, although she loves him not, although she loves another the two would wish to thwart her brothers of their birthright, that she might wear their crown on her own brow. Through her intervention, Henry of Navarre has escaped me. He has outlived the massacre of that night of triumph, when all his party perished; and now Charles loves him, and calls him upright, honest Henry; and if I contend not with all the last remnants of my broken power, my foolish son, upon his deathbed, may place the regency in his hands, and deprive his scorned and illused mother of her rights. The regency! Ah! lies there the double crown? Ah! Ruggieri, Ruggieri, why can you only tell me thus far and no further?"

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"Madam," replied the wary astrologer, the stars run in their slow unerring course. We cannot compel their path; we can only read their dictates."

Catherine de Medicis rose and approached the window, through which she contemplated the face of the bright heavens.

Mysterious orbs of light," she

said, stretching forth her arms—“ ye who rule our destinies, roll on, roll on, and tarry not. Accomplish your great task of fate; but be it quickly, that I may know what awaits me in that secret scroll spread out above on which ye write the future. Let me learn the good, that I may be prepared to greet it-the ill, that I may know how to parry it."

Strange was the compound of that credulous mind, which, whilst it sought in the stars the announcement of an inevitable fate, hoped to find in its own resources the means of avoiding it—which, whilst it listened to their supposed dictates as a slave, strove to command them as a mistress.

"And the fourth horoscope that I have bid you draw?" said the Queen, returning to the astrologer. "How stands it?"

"The star of your youngest son, the Duke of Alençon, is towering also to its culminating point," replied the old man, looking over the papers before him. "But it is nebulons and dim, and shines only by a borrowed light-that of another star which rises with it to the zenith. They both pursue the same path; and if the star of Alençon reach that house of glory to which it tends, that other star will shine with such a lustre as shall dim all other lights, however bright and glorious they now may be."

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"Ha! is it so?" said Catherine thoughtfully. Alençon conspires also to catch the tottering crown which falls from the dying head of Charles. But he is too weak and wavering to pursue a steady purpose. He is led, Ruggieri-he is led. He is taught to believe that since his elder brother has chosen the crown of Poland, it is his to claim the throne which death will soon leave vacant. But he wants firmness of will-it is another that guides his feeble hand. That star which aspires to follow in the track of Alençon-I know it well, Ruggieri. It is that of the ambitious favourite of my youngest son, of Philip de la Mole. It is he who pushes him on. It is he who would see his master on the throne, in order to throne it in his place. He has that influence over Alençon which the mother possesses no longer; and were