CHAPTER XXV
THE CHERRY-COLORED CLOAK
Coconnas was not mistaken. The lady who had stopped the cavalier of the cherry-colored cloak was indeed the Queen of Navarre. As to the cavalier, our reader has already guessed, I presume, that he was no other than brave De Mouy. Upon recognizing the Queen of Navarre the young Huguenot realized that there was some mistake; but he dared not speak, fearing a cry from Marguerite would betray him. He preferred to let himself be led to her apartments, and when once there to say to his beautiful guide:
"Silence for silence, madame."
Marguerite had gently pressed the arm of him whom in the semi-darkness she had mistaken for La Mole, and leaning toward him whispered in Latin:
"Sola sum; introito, carissime."9
De Mouy without answering let her lead him along; but scarcely was the door closed behind him and he found himself in the antechamber, which was better lighted than the stairway, before Marguerite saw that he was not La Mole.
Thereupon the cry which the cautious Huguenot had feared escaped Marguerite; but fortunately there was no further danger from it.
"Monsieur de Mouy!" cried she, stepping back.
"In person, madame, and I beg your majesty to leave me free to continue my way without mentioning my presence in the Louvre to any one."
"Oh! Monsieur de Mouy!" reiterated Marguerite, "I was mistaken, then!"
"Yes," said De Mouy, "I understand. Your majesty mistook me for the King of Navarre. I am the same height, I wear the same white plume, and many, no doubt in order to flatter me, say I have the same gait."
Marguerite looked closely at De Mouy.
"Do you understand Latin, Monsieur de Mouy?" she asked.
"I used to know it," replied the young man, "but I have forgotten it."
Marguerite smiled.
"Monsieur de Mouy," said she, "you may rely on my discretion. But as I think I know the name of the one you are seeking in the Louvre, I will offer my services to guide you directly to him."
"Excuse me, madame," said De Mouy, "I think you are mistaken, and that you are completely ignorant of" —
"What!" exclaimed Marguerite, "are you not looking for the King of Navarre?"
"Alas, madame," said De Mouy, "I regret to have to beg you especially to conceal my presence in the Louvre from your husband, his majesty the king."
"Listen, Monsieur de Mouy," said Marguerite in surprise, "I have considered you until now one of the strongest leaders of the Huguenot party, and one of the most faithful partisans of the king my husband. Am I mistaken?"
"No, madame, for this very morning I was all that you say."
"And what has changed you since this morning?"
"Madame," said De Mouy, bowing, "kindly excuse me from answering, and do me the favor to accept my homage."
De Mouy, respectful but firm, started towards the door.
Marguerite stopped him.
"But, monsieur," said she, "if I were to ask you for a word of explanation, my word is good, it seems to me?"
"Madame," replied De Mouy, "I am obliged to keep silent, and this duty must be very imperative for me not to have answered your majesty."
"But, monsieur" —
"Your majesty may ruin me, madame, but you cannot ask me to betray my new friends."
"But the old ones, monsieur, have they too not some rights?"
"Those who have remained true, yes; those who not only have abandoned us, but themselves as well, no."
Marguerite, thoughtful and anxious, would no doubt have answered by a new question, had not Gillonne suddenly entered the apartment.
"The King of Navarre!" she cried.
"How is he coming?"
"By the secret corridor."
"Take monsieur out by the other."
"Impossible, madame. Listen."
"Some one is knocking?"
"Yes, at the door to which you wish me to take monsieur."
"Who is knocking?"
"I do not know."
"Go and see, and come back and tell me."
"Madame," said De Mouy, "might I venture to remark to your majesty that if the King of Navarre sees me at this hour and in this costume in the Louvre, I am lost?"
Marguerite seized De Mouy and pushed him towards the famous cabinet.
"Step in here, monsieur," said she; "you will be as safe and as well protected as if you were in your own house; I give you my word of honor."
De Mouy entered hastily. Scarcely was the door closed when Henry appeared.
This time Marguerite had no anxiety to hide – she was merely gloomy, and love was far from her thoughts.
As to Henry, he entered with that mistrust which in the most dangerous moments caused him to notice the smallest details; whatever the circumstances, Henry was an acute observer. Therefore he at once saw the cloud on Marguerite's brow.
"You are busy, madame?" said he.
"I? Why, yes, sire, I was dreaming."
"You do well, madame. Dreaming is becoming to you. I too was dreaming; but contrary to you who seek solitude, I have come on purpose to share my dreams, with you." Marguerite gave the king a gesture of welcome, and indicating an armchair to him, seated herself on a chair of sculptured ebony, as delicate and as strong as steel. There was an instant's silence; then Henry broke it.
"I remembered, madame," said he, "that my dreams as to the future corresponded with yours in so far as although separated as husband and wife, nevertheless we both desire to unite our fortune."
"That is true, sire."
"I think I understood you to say also that in all the plans I might make toward our mutual rising, I would find in you not only a faithful but an active ally."
"Yes, sire, and I ask only one thing, that in beginning the work as soon as possible, you will give me the opportunity to begin also."
"I am glad to find you of this mind, madame, and I trust that you have not for one instant doubted that I would lose sight of the plan I resolved to carry out the very day when, thanks to your brave intervention, I was almost sure of being safe."
"Monsieur, I think that your carelessness is nothing but a mask, and I have faith not only in the predictions by the astrologers, but in your good genius as well."
"What should you say, madame, if someone were to upset our plans and threaten to reduce us to an ordinary position?"
"I should say that I was ready to fight with you, either openly or in secret, against this someone, whoever he might be."
"Madame," continued Henry, "it is possible for you, is it not, to gain immediate admission into the room of your brother, Monsieur d'Alençon? You are in his confidence and he is very friendly to you; might I venture to beg you to find out if he is at present holding a secret conference with someone?"
Marguerite gave a start.
"With whom, monsieur?" she asked.
"With De Mouy."
"Why?" asked Marguerite, repressing her emotion.
"Because if such is the case, madame, farewell to all our projects, or to all mine, at least."
"Sire, speak softly," said Marguerite, making a sign with her eyes and lips, and pointing to the cabinet.
"Oh! oh!" said Henry, "still someone? Indeed, that cabinet is so often occupied that it makes your room uninhabitable."
Marguerite smiled.
"Is it still Monsieur de la Mole?" asked Henry.
"No, sire, it is Monsieur de Mouy."
"He?" cried Henry with surprise mingled with joy. "He is not with the Duc d'Alençon, then? Oh! have him come in, that I may talk to him."
Marguerite stepped to the cabinet, opened it, and taking De Mouy by the hand led him without preamble to the King of Navarre.
"Ah! madame," said the young Huguenot, in a tone of reproach more sad than bitter, "you have betrayed me in spite of your promise; that is wrong. What should you do if I were to avenge myself by saying" —
"You will not avenge yourself, De Mouy," interrupted Henry, pressing the young man's hand, "or at least you will listen to me first. Madame," continued Henry, turning to the queen, "be kind enough, I beg you, to see that no one overhears us."
Scarcely had Henry uttered these words when Gillonne entered, frightened, and whispered a few words to Marguerite, which caused the latter to spring from her seat. While she hastened to the antechamber with Gillonne, Henry, without troubling himself as to why she had left the room, examined the bed, the side of it, as well as the draperies, and sounded the wall with his fingers. As to Monsieur de Mouy, frightened at all these preparations, he first of all made sure that his sword was out of its sheath.
Leaving her sleeping-room, Marguerite hastened to the antechamber and came face to face with La Mole, who in spite of all the protests of Gillonne had forced his way into Marguerite's room.
Coconnas was behind him, ready to urge him forward or sustain a retreat.
"Ah! it is you, Monsieur la Mole!" cried the queen; "but what is the matter, and why are you so pale and trembling?"
"Madame," said Gillonne, "Monsieur de la Mole knocked at the door so that, in spite of your majesty's orders, I was forced to open it."
"What is the meaning of this?" said the queen, severely; "is this true, Monsieur de la Mole?"
"Madame, I wanted to warn your majesty that a stranger, a robber perhaps, had gained admittance to your rooms with my cloak and my hat."
"You are mad, monsieur," said Marguerite, "for I see your cloak on your shoulders, and, God forgive me, I think I see your hat on your head, even though you are speaking to a queen."
"Oh! pardon me, madame, pardon me!" cried La Mole, quickly uncovering; "but God is my witness, it is not my respect which is lacking."
"No, it is your trust, is it not?" said the queen.
"What can you expect?" cried La Mole, "when a man is in your majesty's rooms; when he gains admittance by assuming my clothes, and perhaps my name, who knows" —
"A man!" cried Marguerite, softly pressing her poor lover's arm; "a man! You are modest, Monsieur de la Mole. Look through the opening of the portière and you will see two men."
Marguerite drew back the velvet portière embroidered in gold, and La Mole saw Henry talking with the man in the cherry-colored cloak. Coconnas, as though he himself were concerned, looked also, saw, and recognized De Mouy. Both men stood amazed.
"Now that you are reassured, or at least now that I hope you are," said Marguerite, "take your stand outside my door, and for your life, my dear La Mole, let no one enter. If any one even approaches the stairs, warn me." La Mole, weak and obedient as a child, withdrew, glancing at Coconnas, who looked at him. Both found themselves outside without having thoroughly recovered from their astonishment.
"De Mouy!" cried Coconnas.
"Henry!" murmured La Mole.
"De Mouy with your cherry-colored cloak, your white plume, and your swinging arm."
"Ah!" went on La Mole, "the moment it is not a question of love, it is a question of plot."
"By Heaven! here we are in the midst of politics," said Coconnas grumbling. "Fortunately I do not see Madame de Nevers mixed up in it."
Marguerite returned and sat down by the two speakers. She had been gone only a moment, but had made the most of her time. Gillonne, on guard in the secret passage, and the two gentlemen on duty at the main entrance, assured perfect safety for her.
"Madame," said Henry, "do you think it would be possible for us to be overheard in any way?"
"Monsieur," said Marguerite, "the walls of this room are wadded, and a double wainscoting deadens all sound."
"I depend on you," replied Henry smiling. Then turning to De Mouy:
"Now," said the king, in a low tone, as if in spite of the assurance of Marguerite his fears were not wholly overcome, "what are you here for?"
"Here?" said De Mouy.
"Yes, here, in this room," repeated Henry.
"He had nothing to do here," said Marguerite; "I induced him to come."
"You?"
"I guessed everything."
"You see, De Mouy, we can discover what is going on."
"This morning," continued Marguerite, "Monsieur de Mouy was with Duc François in the apartment of two of his gentlemen."
"You see, De Mouy," repeated Henry, "we know everything."
"That is true," said De Mouy.
"I was sure," said Henry, "that Monsieur d'Alençon had taken possession of you."
"That is your fault, sire. Why did you so persistently refuse what I offered you?"
"You refused!" exclaimed Marguerite. "The refusal I feared, then, was real?"
"Madame," said Henry, shaking his head, "and you, my brave De Mouy, really, you make me laugh with your exclamations. What! a man enters my chamber, speaks to me of a throne, of a revolt, of a revolution, to me, Henry, a prince tolerated provided that I eat humble pie, a Huguenot spared on condition that I play the Catholic; and I am expected to accept, when these propositions are made in a room without padding or double wainscoting! Ventre saint gris! You are either children or fools!"
"But, sire, could not your majesty have left me some hope, if not by word, at least by a gesture or sign?"
"What did my brother-in-law say to you, De Mouy?" asked Henry.
"Oh, sire, that is not my secret."
"Well, my God!" continued Henry, with a certain impatience at having to deal with a man who so poorly understood his words. "I do not ask what you proposed to him, I ask you merely if he listened to you, if he heard you."
"He listened, sire, and he heard."
"He listened and he heard! You admit it yourself, De Mouy, tactless conspirator that you are! Had I said one word you would have been lost, for I did not know, I merely suspected that he was there, or if not he, someone else, the Duc d'Anjou, Charles IX., or the queen mother, for instance. You do not know the walls of the Louvre, De Mouy; it was for them that the proverb was made which says that walls have ears; and knowing these walls you expected me to speak! Well, well, De Mouy, you pay a small compliment to the common sense of the King of Navarre, and I am surprised that not esteeming him more highly you should have offered him a crown."
"But, sire," said De Mouy, "could you not even while refusing this crown have given me some sign? In that case I should not have considered everything hopeless and lost."
"Well! Ventre saint gris!" exclaimed Henry, "if one can hear cannot one see also? and is not one lost by a sign as much as by a word? See, De Mouy," continued the king, looking around him, "at the present moment, so near to you that my words do not reach beyond the circle of our three chairs, I still fear I may be overheard when I say: De Mouy, repeat your proposal to me."
"But, sire," cried De Mouy in despair, "I am now engaged with Monsieur d'Alençon."
Marguerite angrily clasped and unclasped her beautiful hands.
"Then it is too late?" said she.
"On the contrary," murmured Henry, "know that even in this, God's hand is visible. Continue your arrangement, De Mouy, for in Duc François lies our safety. Do you suppose that the King of Navarre would guarantee your heads? On the contrary, wretched man, I should have you all killed to the last one, and on the least suspicion. But with a son of France it is different. Secure proofs, De Mouy, ask for guarantees; but, stupid that you are, you will be deeply involved, and one word will suffice for you."
"Oh, sire, it was my despair at your having left us, believe me, which threw me into the arms of the duke; it was also the fear of being betrayed, for he kept our secret."
"Keep his, now, De Mouy; it rests with you. What does he wish? To leave court? Furnish him with means to escape. Work for him, De Mouy, as if you were working for me, turn the shield so that he may parry every blow they aim at us. When it is time to flee, we will both flee. When it is time to fight and reign, I will reign alone."
"Do not trust the duke," said Marguerite, "he is gloomy and acute, without hatred as without love; ever ready to treat his friends like enemies and his enemies like friends."
"And he is expecting you now, De Mouy?" said Henry.
"Yes, sire."
"Where?"
"In the apartment belonging to his two gentlemen."
"At what time?"
"Before midnight."
"It is not yet eleven o'clock," said Henry, "so you have lost no time; now you may go, De Mouy."
"We have your word, monsieur?" said Marguerite.
"Come now, madame!" said Henry, with the confidence he knew so well how to use with certain people and on certain occasions, "with Monsieur de Mouy, such things are not even asked for."
"You are right, sire," replied the young man; "but I need your word, for I shall have to tell the leaders that I have it. You are not a Catholic, are you?"
Henry shrugged his shoulders.
"You do not renounce the kingdom of Navarre?"
"I renounce no kingdom, De Mouy, I merely reserve for myself the choice of the best; that is, the one which shall best suit me and you."
"And if in the meantime your majesty should be arrested, you would promise to reveal nothing even should they torture your royal majesty?"
"De Mouy, I swear that, before God."
"One further word, sire. How am I to see you in future?"
"After to-morrow you shall have a key to my room. You will come there, De Mouy, as often as it may be necessary and when you please. It is for the Duc d'Alençon to answer for your presence in the Louvre. In the meantime, use the small stairway. I will show you the way. The queen will have the cherry-colored cloak like yours come here – the one who was in the antechamber just now. No one must notice any difference between you, or know that there are two of you, De Mouy. Do you not agree with me? And you, madame?" Henry looked at Marguerite and uttered the last words with a smile.
"Yes," said she, without moving a feature; "for this Monsieur de la Mole belongs to my brother, the duke."
"Well, madame, try to win him over to our side," said Henry, in perfect seriousness. "Spare neither gold nor promises; I will put all my treasures at his disposal."
"In that case," said Marguerite, with one of the smiles which belong only to the women of Boccaccio, "since this is your wish, I will do my best to second it."
"Very good, madame; and you, De Mouy, return to the duke, and make sure of him."
CHAPTER XXVI
MARGARITA
During the conversation which we have just related, La Mole and Coconnas mounted guard. La Mole somewhat chagrined, Coconnas somewhat anxious. La Mole had had time to reflect, and in this he had been greatly aided by Coconnas.
"What do you think of all this, my friend?" La Mole had asked of Coconnas.
"I think," the Piedmontese had replied, "that there is some court intrigue connected with it."
"And such being the case, are you disposed to play a part in it?"
"My dear fellow," replied Coconnas, "listen well to what I am going to say to you and try and profit by it. In all these princely dealings, in all royal affairs, we can and should be nothing but shadows. Where the King of Navarre leaves a bit of his plume and the Duc d'Alençon a piece of his cloak, we leave our lives. The queen has a fancy for you, and you for her. Nothing is better. Lose your head in love, my dear fellow, but not in politics."
That was wise council. Therefore it was heard by La Mole with the melancholy of a man who feels that, placed between reason and madness, it is madness he will follow.
"I have not a fancy for the queen, Annibal, I love her; and fortunately or unfortunately I love her with all my heart. This is madness, you will say. Well, I admit that I am mad. But you are wise, Coconnas, you ought not to suffer for my foolishness and my misfortune. Go back to our master and do not compromise yourself."
Coconnas pondered an instant. Then raising his head:
"My dear fellow," he replied, "all that you tell me is perfectly reasonable; you are in love – act, therefore, like a lover. I am ambitious, and being so, I think life is worth more to me than a woman's kiss. When I risk my life, I make my own conditions. Try, so far as you are concerned, my poor Medor, to make yours."
Whereupon Coconnas extended his hand to La Mole and withdrew, having exchanged a final glance and a final smile with his friend.
About ten minutes after he left his post, the door opened, and Marguerite, peering out cautiously, took La Mole by the hand and, without uttering a word, drew him from the corridor into the furthest corner of her room. She closed the door behind her with a care which indicated the importance of the conversation she was about to have.
Once in her room she stopped, seated herself on her ebony chair, and drawing La Mole to her, she clasped her hands over both of his.
"Now that we are alone," said she, "let us talk seriously, my very dear friend."
"Seriously, madame," said La Mole.
"Or lovingly. Does that please you better? But there can be serious things in love, and especially in the love of a queen."
"Then – let us talk of serious things; but on condition that your majesty will not be vexed at the lighter things I have to say to you."
"I shall be vexed only at one thing, La Mole, and that is if you address me as 'madame' or 'your majesty.' For you, my beloved, I am just Marguerite."
"Yes, Marguerite! Yes, Margarita! Yes, my pearl!" cried the young man, devouring the queen with his eyes.
"Yes, that is right," said Marguerite. "So you are jealous, my fine gentleman?"
"Oh! unreasonably."
"Still?"
"Madly, Marguerite."
"Jealous of whom? Come!"
"Of everyone."
"But really?"
"Of the king first."
"I should think after what you had seen and heard you might be easy on that point."
"Of this Monsieur de Mouy, whom I saw this morning for the first time, and whom this evening I find so far advanced in his intimacy with you."
"Monsieur de Mouy?"
"Yes."
"Who gave you such ideas about Monsieur de Mouy?"
"Listen! I recognized him from his figure, from the color of his hair, from a natural feeling of hatred. He is the one who was with Monsieur d'Alençon this morning."
"Well, what connection has that with me?"
"Monsieur d'Alençon is your brother. It is said that you are very fond of him. You may have confided to him a vague feeling of your heart, and, according to the custom at court, he has aided your wish by admitting Monsieur de Mouy to your apartment. Now, what I do not understand is how I was fortunate enough to find the king here at the same time. But in any case, madame, be frank with me. In default of other sentiment, a love like mine has the right to demand frankness in return. See, I prostrate myself at your feet. If what you have felt for me is but a passing fancy, I will give you back your trust, your promise, your love; I will give back to Monsieur d'Alençon his kind favors and my post of gentleman, and I will go and seek death at the siege of La Rochelle, if love does not kill me before I have gone as far as that."
Marguerite listened smilingly to these charming words, watching La Mole's graceful gestures, then leaning her beautiful dreamy head on her feverish hand:
"You love me?" she asked.
"Oh, madame! more than life, more than safety, more than all; but you, you – you do not love me."
"Poor fool!" she murmured.
"Ah, yes, madame," cried La Mole, still at her feet, "I have told you I was that."
"The chief thought of your life, then, is your love, dear La Mole!"
"It is the only thought, madame, the sole thought."
"Well, be it so; I will make of all the rest only an accessory to this love. You love me; do you wish to remain near me?"
"My one prayer is that God will never take me from you."
"Well, you shall not leave me. I need you, La Mole."
"You need me? Does the sun need the glow-worm?"
"If I will tell you that I love you, would you be wholly devoted to me?"
"Ah! am I not that already, madame, and more than wholly?"
"Yes, but, God forgive me, you still doubt!"
"Oh! I am wrong, I am ungrateful, or, rather, as I have told you and repeated to you, I am a fool. But why was Monsieur de Mouy with you this evening? why did I see him this morning with Monsieur le Duc d'Alençon? Why that cherry-colored cloak, that white plume, that affected imitation of my gait? Ah! madame, it is not you whom I suspect, but your brother."
"Wretched man!" said Marguerite, "wretched man to suppose that Duc François would push complacency so far as to introduce a wooer to his sister's room! Mad enough to be jealous, and yet not to have guessed! Do you know, La Mole, that the Duc d'Alençon would run you through with his own sword if he knew that you were here, this evening, at my feet, and that instead of sending you away I were saying to you: 'Stay here where you are, La Mole; for I love you, my fine gentleman, do you hear? I love you!' Ah, yes! he would certainly kill you."
"Great God!" cried La Mole, starting back and looking at Marguerite in terror, "is it possible?"
"Everything is possible, my friend, in these times and at this court. Now, one word; it was not for me that Monsieur de Mouy, in your cloak, his face hidden under your hat, came to the Louvre. It was for Monsieur d'Alençon. But I, thinking it was you, brought him here. He knows our secret, La Mole, and must be carefully managed."
"I should prefer to kill him," said La Mole; "that is shorter and surer."
"And I, my brave gentleman," said the queen, "I prefer him to live, and for you to know everything, for not only is his life useful to us, but it is necessary. Listen and weigh your words well before you answer. Do you love me enough, La Mole, to be glad if I were really to become a queen; that is, queen of a real kingdom?"
"Alas, madame, I love you enough to wish what you wish, even should this desire ruin my whole life!"
"Well, do you want to aid me to realize this desire, which would make you still happier?"
"Oh! I should lose you, madame," cried La Mole hiding his head in his hands.
"No, on the contrary. Instead of being the first of my servants, you would become the first of my subjects, that is all."
"Oh! no interest – no ambition, madame – do not sully the feeling I have for you – the devotion, nothing but devotion!"
"Noble nature!" said Marguerite; "well, yes, I accept your devotion, and I shall find out how to reward it."
She extended both her hands, and La Mole covered them with kisses.
"Well!" said she.
"Well, yes!" replied La Mole, "yes, Marguerite, I am beginning to comprehend this vague project already talked of by us Huguenots before the massacre of Saint Bartholomew, the scheme for the execution of which I, like many another worthier than myself, was sent to Paris. You covet this actual kingdom of Navarre which is to take the place of an imaginary kingdom. King Henry drives you to it; De Mouy conspires with you, does he not? But the Duc d'Alençon, what is he doing in it all? Where is there a throne for him? I do not see. Now, is the Duc d'Alençon sufficiently your – friend to aid you in all this without asking anything in exchange for the danger he runs?"
"The duke, my friend, is conspiring on his own account. Let us leave him to his illusions. His life answers for ours."
"But I, who belong to him, can I betray him?"
"Betray him! In what are you betraying him? What has he confided to you? Is it not he who has betrayed you by giving your cloak and hat to De Mouy as a means of gaining him admittance to his apartments? You belong to him, you say! Were you not mine, my gentleman, before you were his? Has he given you a greater proof of friendship than the proof of love you have from me?"
La Mole arose, pale and completely overcome.
"Oh!" he murmured, "Coconnas was right, intrigue is enveloping me in its folds. It will suffocate me."
"Well?" asked Marguerite.
"Well," said La Mole, "this is my answer: it is said, and I heard it at the other end of France, where your illustrious name and your universal reputation for beauty touched my heart like a vague desire for the unknown, – it is said that sometimes you love, but that your love is always fatal to those you love, so that death, jealous, no doubt, almost always removes your lovers."
"La Mole!"
"Do not interrupt me, oh, my well-loved Margarita, for they add that you preserve the hearts of these faithful friends in gold boxes10, and that occasionally you bestow a melancholy thought, a pious glance on the sad remains. You sigh, my queen, your eyes droop; it is true. Well! make me the dearest and the happiest of your favorites. You have pierced the hearts of others, and you keep their hearts. You do more with me, you expose my head. Well, Marguerite, swear to me before the image of the God who has saved my life in this very place, swear to me, that if I die for you, as a sad presentiment tells me I shall do, swear to me that you will keep my head, which the hangman will separate from my body; and that you will sometimes press your lips to it. Swear, Marguerite, and the promise of such reward bestowed by my queen will make me silent, and, if necessary, a traitor and a coward; this is being wholly devoted, as your lover and your accomplice should be."
"Oh! what ghastly foolishness, dear heart!" said Marguerite. "Oh! fatal thought, sweet love."
"Swear" —
"Swear?"
"Yes, on this silver chest with its cross. Swear."
"Well!" said Marguerite, "if – and God forbid! – your gloomy presentiment is realized, my fine gentleman, on this cross I swear to you that you shall be near me, living or dead, so long as I live; and if I am unable to rescue you from the peril which comes to you through me, through me alone, I will at least give to your poor soul the consolation for which you ask, and which you will so well have deserved."
"One word more, Marguerite. I can die now. I shall not mind death; but I can live, too, for we may succeed. The King of Navarre, king, you may be queen, in which case he will take you away. This vow of separation between you will some day be broken, and will do away with ours. Now, Marguerite, my well-beloved Marguerite, with a word you have taken away my every fear of death; now with a word keep up my courage concerning life."
"Oh, fear nothing, I am yours, body and soul!" cried Marguerite, again raising her hand to the cross on the little chest. "If I leave, you follow, and if the king refuses to take you, then I shall not go."
"But you dare not resist!"
"My well-beloved Hyacinthe," said Marguerite, "you do not know Henry. At present he is thinking of only one thing, that is, of being king. For this he would sacrifice everything he owns, and, still more, what he does not own. Now, adieu!"
"Madame," said La Mole, smiling, "are you going to send me away?"
"It is late," said Marguerite.