Francis: You're not going anywhere. You're thinking that if you were my father, you'd be dead by now.
Narcisse: But apparently you're not your father. You went one better by killing him.
Francis: Against my word, all you have are the rantings of a deranged woman.
Narcisse: Who you are locking up so no one may hear what she has to say. As well you should, because in truth, no rumor could be as dangerous as fratricide. It's a crime against France, against God; anyone who commits it or even knows of it could be summarily put to death -- man, woman, King or Queen. Which is why I imagine your Queen knows nothing of this.