"Of the proof I give you," retorted Marguerite, with a slight tone of vexation in her voice, "that I belong to a man, who, on the very night of his marriage, makes me of such small importance that he does not even come to thank me for the honour I have done him, not in selecting, but in accepting him for my husband."

"Oh! madame," said the duke, sorrowfully, "be assured he will come if you desire it."

"And is it you who say that, Henry?" cried Marguerite; "you, who better than any know the contrary of what you say. If I had that desire, should I have asked you to come to the Louvre?"

"You have asked me to come to the Louvre, Marguerite, because you are anxious to destroy every vestige of the past, and because that past lives not only in my memory, but in this silver casket which I bring to you."

"Henry, shall I say one thing to you?" replied Marguerite; "it is that you are more like a schoolboy than a prince. I deny that I have loved you! I desire to quench a flame which will die, perhaps, but whose reflection will never die! No, no, duke! you may keep the letters of your Marguerite, and the casket she has given you. From these letters she asks but one, and that only, because it is as dangerous for you as for herself."

"It is all yours," said the duke.

Marguerite searched anxiously in the open casket, and with a tremulous hand took, one after the other, a dozen letters, of which she examined the addresses only, as if by the inspection alone of these she could recal to her memory what the letters themselves contained; but after a close scrutiny, she looked at the duke, pale and agitated:

"Sir," she said, "what I seek is not here. Have you lost it, by any accident?"

"What letter do you seek, madame?"

"That in which I told you to marry without delay." "As an excuse for your infidelity?"

Marguerite shrugged her shoulders.

"No; but to save your life. That one in which I say to you that the king, seeing our love and my exertions to break off your proposed espousals with the infanta of Portugal, had sent for his brother, the Bastard of Angoulême,

and said to him, pointing to two swords, 'With this slay Henry de Guise this night, or with the other I will slay thee in the morning.' Where is that letter?"

66 Here," said the duke, drawing it from his breast.

Marguerite snatched it from his hands, opened it anxiously, assured herself that it was really that which she desired, uttered an exclamation of joy, and applying the lighted candle to it, the flames instantly consumed the paper: then, as if Marguerite feared that her imprudent words might be read in the very ashes, she trampled them under foot.

During all this, the duke de Guise had watched his mistress attentively.

"Well, Marguerite," he said, when she had finished, "are you satisfied now?"

66

Yes, for now you have wedded the princess de Porcian, my brother will forgive me your love: whilst he never would have pardoned me for revealing a secret such as that which my weakness for you I had not the strength to conceal from you."

in

"True," replied de Guise, "then, you loved me.”

"And I love you still, Henry, as much-more than ever!" "You....?"

"I do; for never more than at this moment did I need a sincere and devoted friend. Queen, I have no throne: wife, I have no husband!"

The young prince shook his head sorrowfully.

"I tell you, I repeat to you, Henry, that my husband not only does not love me, but hates-despises me; besides, methinks, your presence in the chamber in which he ought to be is full proof of this hatred, this contempt."

"It is not yet late, madame, and the king of Navarre requires time to dismiss his gentlemen; and if he has not already come, he will not be long first."

"And I tell you," cried Marguerite, with increasing vexation-"I tell you that he will not come!"

"Madame!" exclaimed Gillonne, suddenly entering-"the king of Navarre is just leaving his apartment!"

"Oh, I knew he would come!" exclaimed the duke de Guise.

"Henry," said Marguerite, in a quick tone, and seizing the

duke's hand, "Henry, you shall see if I am a woman of my word, and if I may be relied on. Henry, enter that closet."

"Madame, allow me to go whilst it is yet time, for reflect that the first mark of love you bestow on him, I shall quit the cabinet, and then woe to him!"

66 Are you mad? go in-go in, I say, and I will be responsible for all." And she pushed the duke into the closet.

It was time. The door was scarcely closed behind the prince, than the king of Navarre, escorted by two pages, who carried eight flambeaux of pink wax in two candelabras, appeared, smiling, on the threshold of the chamber.

Marguerite concealed her trouble, and made a very low courtesy.

"You are not yet in bed, madame," observed the Béarnais, with his frank and joyous look. "Were you by chance waiting for me?"

"No, sir," replied Marguerite; "for yesterday you repeated to me that our marriage was a political alliance, and that you would never thwart my wishes."

66

Assuredly; but that is no reason why we should not confer a little together. Gillonne, close the door, and leave us." Marguerite, who was sitting, then rose and extended her hand, as if to desire the pages to remain.

"Must I call your women?" inquired the king. "I will do so if such be your desire, although I confess that what I have to say to you would make me prefer our being alone."

And the king of Navarre advanced towards the closet.

"No!" exclaimed Marguerite, hastily going before him; "no-there is no occasion for that; I am ready to hear you."

The Béarnais had learned what he desired to know-he threw a rapid and penetrating glance towards the cabinet, as if, in spite of the thick curtain which hung before it, he would dive into its obscurity, and then turning his looks to his lovely wife, pale with terror, he said, with the utmost composure:

"In that case, madame, let us confer for a few moments." "As your majesty pleases," said the lady, falling into, rather than sitting upon, the seat which her husband pointed out to her.

The Béarnais placed himself beside her.

"Madame," he continued, "whatever many persons may have said, I think our marriage is a good marriage. I stand well with you-you stand well with me."

"But" said Marguerite, alarmed.

"Consequently, we ought," observed the king of Navarre, "to act to each other like good allies, since we were to-day allied in the presence of God. Don't you think so?"

"Unquestionably, sir."

“I know, madame, how great your penetration is; I know how the ground at court is intersected with dangerous abysses; now I am young, and although I never injured any person, I nave a great many enemies. In which camp, madame, ought I to range her who bears my name, and who has vowed her affection to me at the foot of the altar?"

"I think nothing, madame; I hope, and I am anxious to know that my hope is well founded. It is quite certain that our marriage is merely a pretext or a snare.'

Marguerite started, for perchance the same thought had occurred to her own mind.

"Now, then, which of the two?" continued 'Henry of Navarre. "The king hates me, the duke of Anjou hates me, the duke of Alençon hates me, Catherine de Medicis hated my mother too much not to hate me."

"Oh, sir, what are you saying?"

"The truth, madame," replied the king; "and I wish, in order that it may not be supposed that I am the dupe of the assassination of M. de Mouy and the poisoning of my mother, that some one were here who could hear me.'

"Oh, sir," replied Marguerite, with an air as calm and smiling as she could assume, "you know very well that there is no person here but you and myself."

"It is for that very reason that I thus give vent to my thoughts; this it is that emboldens me to declare that I am not the dupe of the caresses showered on me by the house of France or the house of Lorraine."

"Sire, sire!" exclaimed Marguerite.

"Well, what is it, ma mie?" inquired Henry, smiling in his turn.

"Why, sir, such remarks are very dangerous."

"Not when we are alone," observed the king. "I was saying

Marguerite was evidently distressed; she desired to stoy every word the king uttered, but he continued, with his apparent indifference

"I was telling you, that I was menaced on all sides; menaced by the king, menaced by the duke d'Alençon, menaced by the duke d'Anjou, menaced by the queen-mother, menaced by the duke de Guise, by the duke de Mayenne, by the cardinal de Lorraine menaced, in fact, by everybody. One feels that instinctively, as you know, madame. Well, against all these menaces, which must soon become attacks, I can defend myself by your aid, for you are beloved by all the persons who detest me."

"I?" said Marguerite.

66

"Yes, you," replied Henry, with the utmost easiness of manner; 'yes, you are beloved by king Charles, you are beloved (he laid strong emphasis on the word) by the duke d'Alençon, you are beloved by queen Catherine, and you are beloved by the duke de Guise."

"Sir!" murmured Marguerite.

"Yes; and what is there astonishing in the fact of all the world loving you? All I have mentioned are your brothers or relatives. To love one's brothers and relatives is to live according to the heart of God."

"But what, then," asked Marguerite, greatly overcome"what would you have?"

“I would say, that if you will-I will not ask you to love me-but if you will be my ally, I could brave everything; whilst, on the other hand, if you become my enemy, I am lost."

"Oh, your enemy!-never, sir!" exclaimed Marguerite. "And my love-never either?"

"Perhaps

"And my ally?"

"Most decidedly."

And Marguerite turned round, and presented her hand to the king.

Henry took it, kissed it gallantly, and retaining it in his own, more from a desire of investigation than from any sentiment of tenderness, said: