where the wash has fallen away, seem to show that they once detached themselves from the gilded ground in colors, either blue, or red, or green.  The multitude of these panels shows an evident intention to foil a search; but even if this could be doubted, the concierge of the chateau, while devoting the memory of Catherine to the execration of the humanity of our day, shows at the base of these panels and close to the floor a rather heavy foot-board, which can be lifted, and beneath which still remain the ingenious springs which move the panels.  By pressing a knob thus hidden, the queen was able to open certain panels known to her alone, behind which, sunk in the wall, were hiding-places, oblong like the panels, and more or less deep.  It is difficult, even in these days of dilapidation, for the best-trained eye to detect which of those panels is thus hinged; but when the eye was distracted by colors and gilding, cleverly used to conceal the joints, we can readily conceive that to find one or two such panels among two hundred was almost an impossible thing.

At the moment when Mary Stuart laid her hand on the somewhat complicated lock of the door of this oratory, the queen-mother, who had just become convinced of the greatness of the Prince de Conde’s plans, had touched the spring hidden beneath the foot-board, and one of the mysterious panels had turned over on its hinges.  Catherine was in the act of lifting the papers from the table to hide them, intending after that to secure the safety of the devoted messenger who had brought them to her, when, hearing the sudden opening of the door, she at once knew that none but Queen Mary herself would dare thus to enter without announcement.

“You are lost!” she said to Christophe, perceiving that she could no longer put away the papers, nor close with sufficient rapidity the open panel, the secret of which was now betrayed.

Christophe answered her with a glance that was sublime.

“Povero mio!” said Catherine, before she looked at her daughter-in-law.  “Treason, madame!  I hold the traitors at last,” she cried.  “Send for the duke and the cardinal; and see that that man,” pointing to Christophe, “does not escape.”

In an instant the able woman had seen the necessity of sacrificing the poor youth.  She could not hide him; it was impossible to save him.  Eight days earlier it might have been done; but the Guises now knew of the plot; they must already possess the lists she held in her hand, and were evidently drawing the Reformers into a trap.  Thus, rejoiced to find in these adversaries the very spirit she desired them to have, her policy now led her to make a merit of the discovery of their plot.  These horrible calculations were made during the rapid moment while the young queen was opening the door.  Mary Stuart stood dumb for an instant; the gay look left her eyes, which took on the acuteness that suspicion gives to the eyes of all, and which, in hers, became terrible from the suddenness of the change.  She glanced from Christophe to the queen-mother and from the queen-mother back to Christophe,—­her face expressing malignant doubt.  Then she seized a bell, at the sound of which one of the queen-mother’s maids of honor came running in.