"Madame, I have tried to walk in the cabinet; I do so slowly, it is true, but once outside the Louvre, I will take my chance."

Marguerite leaned her head on her hand, and reflected for an instant.

"And the king of Navarre," said she, emphatically—" you do not speak of him? In changing your religion, have you also changed your desire to enter his service?"

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Madame," returned la Mole, “I know that his majesty runs a great risk at present, and that all your influence will scarce suffice to save him."

"What!" said Marguerite, "how know you that?"

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"Madame," returned la Mole, after some hesitation, one can hear everything in this cabinet."

""Tis true," said Marguerite to herself ; "M. de Guise told me so before."

"Well," added she, aloud, "what have you heard?”

"In the first place, the conversation between your majesty and your brother."

"With François?" said Marguerite.

"With the duke d'Alençon; and since your departure, that of Gillonne and madame de Sauve."

"And it is these two conversations"Yes, madame; married scarcely a week, you love your husband; to-night he will come, in his turn, in the same way that the duke d'Alençon and madame de Sauve have come; he will discourse with you of his affairs: I do not wish to hear; I might be indiscreet- I will give myself no chance of being so."

At the last words, and their manner, Marguerite comprehended all.

"Ah!" said she, "you have heard everything that has been said in this chamber?"

These words were uttered in a sigh.

"And you wish to depart to-night, to avoid hearing any more?"

"This moment, if it please your majesty."

"Poor fellow!" said Marguerite, with an accent of tender pity.

Astonished at so gentle an apostrophe, when he expected

an abrupt reply, la Mole lifted his head timidly-his eyes encountered those of the queen, and remained immovable before her penetrating glance.

"You are, then, incapable of keeping a secret, M. de la Mole?" said the queen, who, seated in a large chair, could watch la Mole's face whilst her own remained in the shadow.

"Madame," said la Mole, "I distrust myself, and the happiness of another gives me pain."

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"The happiness of whom?

Navarre! Poor Henry!"

Ah, yes—of the king of

"You see," cried la Mole, passionately, "he is happy." "Happy?"

"Yes, for your majesty pities him."

Marguerite played with the golden tassels of her alms

purse.

"You will not, then, see the king of Navarre—you are quite resolved?"

"I fear I should be troublesome to his majesty at present." "But the duke d'Alençon, my brother?"

"Oh, no!” cried la Mole, “the duke d'Alençon even still less than the king of Navarre."

"Why so?" asked Marguerite.

"Because, although I am already too bad a huguenot to be a faithful servant of the king of Navarre, I am not a sufficiently good catholic to be friends with the duke d'Alençon and M. de Guise."

Marguerite cast down her eyes; that which la Mole had said, struck to her very heart.

At this instant Gillonne returned; Marguerite, with a look, interrogated her, and Gillonne, in the same manner, answered in the affirmative; the king of Navarre had received the key.

Marguerite turned her eyes towards la Mole, who stood, his head drooping on his breast, sad, pale, grief-laden, as one suffering alike in mind and in body.

"M. de la Mole is so proud," said she, "that I hesitate to make him an offer I fear he will repel."

La Mole rose, and advanced a step towards Marguerite, but a feeling of faintness came over him, and he caught at a table to save himself from falling.

"You see, monsieur," cried Marguerite, supporting him in "that I am still necessary to you.”

her arms,

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"Oh, yes!" murmured la Mole, as the air I breatheas the light of heaven."

At this moment three knocks were heard at the outer door. "Do you hear, madame?" cried Gillonne, alarmed. Already!" exclaimed Marguerite.

"Shall I open?"

"Wait! it is the king of Navarre, perhaps."

"Oh, madame!” cried la Mole, recalled to himself by these words, which the queen hoped had been heard by Gillonne alone, "I implore-I entreat you, let me depart. Oh! you do not answer. I will tell you all, and then you will drive me away, I hope."

"Be silent," said Marguerite, who found an indescribable charm in the reproaches of the young man- "be silent."

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Madame," replied la Mole, who did not find that anger he expected in the voice of the queen-" madame, I tell you again, I hear everything from this cabinet. Oh, do not make me perish by tortures more cruel than the executioner could inflict

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"Silence! silence!" said Marguerite.

"Oh, you are merciless! you will not understand me. Know, then, that I

"

"Silence! I tell you," said Marguerite, placing on his mouth her white and perfumed hand, which he seized, and pressed eagerly to his lips.

"But-" murmured he.

"Be silent, child!-who is this rebel that refuses to obey his queen?"

Then hastily quitting the cabinet, she pressed her hand to her heart, as if to control it.

"And now, open, Gillonne."

Gillonne left the apartment, and an instant after the fine, intellectual, but at present somewhat anxious countenance of the king of Navarre appeared.

"You have sent for me, madame?"

"Yes, sir. Your majesty received my letter?"

"And not without some surprise, I confess," said Henry, Looking round with a distrust, which, however, almost instantly vanished from his mind.

"And not without disquiet," added Marguerite.

"I confess it! But still surrounded as I am by deadly enemies, by friends still more dangerous, perhaps, than my open foes, I recollected that one evening I had seen a noble generosity radiant in your eyes-'twas the night of our marriage: that one other evening I had seen high courage glance from them-'twas yesterday, the day fixed for my death."

"Well, monsieur!" said Marguerite, smiling, whilst Henry seemed striving to read her heart.

"Well, madame," returned the king, "thinking of these things, I said to myself, when I read your letter: Without friends, for he is a disarmed prisoner, the king of Navarre has but one means of dying nobly, of dying a death that will be recorded in history. It is to die betrayed by his wife; and I am come·

"Sire," replied Marguerite, "you will change your tone when you learn that all this is the work of a woman who loves you, and whom you love."

Henry started back at these words, and his piercing grey eyes were fixed on the queen with earnest curiosity.

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Oh, re-assure yourself, sire," said the queen, smiling; “I am not that person."

"But, madame," said Henry, "you sent me this key, and this is your writing."

"It is my writing, I confess; but the key is a different matter: content you with knowing that it has passed through the hands of four women before it reached you."

"Of four women?"

"Yes," said Marguerite; "those of queen Catherine, madame de Sauve, Gillonne, and myself."

Henry pondered over this enigma.

"Let us speak plainly," said Marguerite. "Report says your majesty has consented to abjure.

Is that true?"

Report is somewhat premature; I have not yet consented."

"But your mind is made up?"

"That is to say, I am deliberating.

At twenty, and

almost a king, there are many things that are well worth a

"You do not tell me all," said the queen.

"I have reservations for my allies; and you know we are but allies as yet; if indeed, you were both my ally and——” "And your wife, sire?"

"Ma foi! yes, and my wife--"

"What then?"

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Why, then, it might be different, and I perhaps might resolve to remain king of the huguenots, as they call me. But, as it is, I must be content to live."

Marguerite looked at her husband in so peculiar a manner, that it would have awakened suspicion in a less acute mind than his.

"And are you quite sure of retaining even that?" asked she.

Why, almost; but, you know, in this world, nothing is certain."

"Truly, your majesty shows such moderation, such disinterestedness, that after having renounced your crown, your religion, you may be expected to satisfy the hopes of some people, and renounce your alliance with a daughter of France!"

There was a significance in these words that sent a thrill through Henry's whole frame: repressing the emotion, he said:

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'Recollect, mádame, that at this moment I am not my own master: I shall therefore do what the king of France orders me. As to myself, were I consulted the least in the world on this question, affecting as it does my throne, my honour, and my life, rather than build my future hopes on this forced marriage of ours, I would enter a cloister or turn gamekeeper."

This calm resignation, this renunciation of the world, alarmed Marguerite. She thought, perhaps this rupture of the marriage had been arranged between Charles IX., Catherine, and her husband, and the young queen felt her ambition attacked.

"Your majesty," said Marguerite, with a sort of disdainful raillery, "has no confidence in the star that shines over the head of every king!"

"Ah," said Henry, "I cannot see mine; it is hidden by the storm that now threatens me!"

"And suppose the breath of a woman were to dispel this

I