"I think," replied the Piedmontese, "that it is some intrigue of the court."

"And are you disposed to play a part in it?"

My dear fellow!" returned Coconnas, "listen to what I shall say, and give heed thereunto. In all these royal manoeuvrings, we are, and should be, but shadows: where the king of Navarre would only lose the end of his feather, or the duke d'Alençon the skirt of his cloak, you and I should lose our lives. Go crazy in love, if you please, but do not meddle in politics."

"But I love the queen, Hannibal; I love her with all my soul; 'tis folly, I admit; but you, Coconnas, who are prudent, must not suffer by my folly. Seek our master, and do not compromise yourself."

Coconnas reflected an instant, then shaking his head—

My dear fellow!" said he, "what you say is very just; you are in love, and you act like a lover; I am ambitious, and think life worth more than the smile of a woman. When I risk my life, I will make my own terms, and do you, on your part, do the same."

So saying, Coconnas pressed la Mole's hand, and left him. About ten minutes after, the door opened cautiously, and Marguerite appeared. Without speaking a word, she led la Mole into her apartment, closing the doors with a care that showed the importance of the conversation she was about to

open.

Arrived in her chamber, she sat down in her ebony chair, and taking la Mole's hands in hers

"Now that we are alone, my friend," said she, "we will talk seriously."

66

Seriously, madame?" said la Mole.

"Or confidentially, if you like the word better.

There

may be serious things in confidential conversations, especially in those of a queen.'

"Let us speak seriously, then; but on condition that your majesty be not offended with what I shall say."

"I shall only be offended at one thing, la Mole, and that is, if you call me 'madame' or 'your majesty;' for you, I am only Marguerite."

"Yes, Marguerite! yes, Marguerite!" cried the young man, gazing passionately at the queen.

"That is well," said Marguerite; "and so you are jealous,

my fair sir?”

"Oh, madly!"

"Ah! and of whom?"

First, of the king."

"I thought, after what you had seen and heard, you were easy on that score.'

"Of this M. de Mouy, whom I saw this morning, for the first time, and whom I find this evening on such intimate terms with you."

"And what makes you jealous of de Mouy?"

"I recognised him by his air, his figure; by a natural feeling of hate: it is he who was with M. d'Alençon this morning."

"Well, what has he to do with me?"

"That I know not. But in default of any other return, a love like mine is entitled to frankness on your part. See, madame, at your feet I implore you! If what you have felt for me is but a temporary inclination, I give you back your faith and your promises; I will resign my post to M. d'Alençon, and go and seek death at the siege of Rochelle, if love does not kill me before I arrive there!"

Marguerite listened with a smile to these tender reproaches, then, leaning her head on his burning hand

"You love me?" she said.

"Oh, yes, madame, more than life! But you do not love me."

"Silly fellow!" murmured she; "and so the sole interest of life with you is your love?"

"It is, indeed, madame."

"You love me, then, and would fain remain with me?” "My only prayer is, that I may never part from you."

"Were I to tell you I love you, should you be wholly de

voted to me?"

"Am I not so already?"

66

Yes; but you still doubt."

"Oh, I am an ingrate, or rather, I am mad; but tell me, why was M. de Mouy this morning with the duke d'Alençon?

why here to-night? what meant the white plume, the cherrycoloured mantle, the imitating my walk and manner?"

"Can you not guess? The duke d'Alençon would kill you with his own hand, did he know you were here at my feet; and that, instead of ordering you to quit my presence, I said to you then as I now say, stay where you are, for I love you.'

"All gratitude to you for the word," murmured la Mole. "Listen," continued the queen; "it was not for me that M. de Mouy came here in your hat and cloak; it was for M. d'Alençon; but I mistook him for you; I spoke to him, thinking it was you; I led him hither, thinking it was you. He possesses our secret, la Mole, and must be managed cautiously."

“I had rather kill him,” said la Mole; "'tis the shortest and safest way."

"And I," said the queen, "had rather he should live, and that you should know all. Now answer me truly, la Mole; do you love me enough to rejoice if I were to become really queen?"

"Alas, madame," said la Mole, "I love you enough to desire whatever you desire, though it involved myself in utter misery!"

"Will you, then, aid me to realize this object?"

"Oh, I shall lose you!" cried la Mole, burying his face in his hands.

"No: only, instead of being the first of my servants, you will become the first of my subjects."

"Oh, speak not of interest, of ambition! Do not dishonour the sentiment I have for you!-my devotion, my ardent, my unmixed devotion!"

"Noble nature!" said the queen; "I will accept your devotion, and be assured, will repay it."

And she held out her hands, which la Mole pressed in his

own.

"Well!" said she.

"Well, yes,” replied la Mole; "I now begin to understand the project spoken of by the huguenots before the Bartholomew; the project, to aid in which, I, with so many others, came to Paris. De Mouy conspires with you; but what has the duke d'Alençon to do with all this? Is he sufficiently

your friend to aid you, without demanding anything in return?"

"The duke conspires for himself. way; his life answers for ours."

Let him go on his own

"But how can I, who am in his service, betray him?" "Betray him! how so? What has he intrusted to you? Has he not betrayed you by giving de Mouy your mantle and hat, to enable him to come here? Were you not in my service before you were in his? Has he given you a greater proof of his friendship than I have of love?"

La Mole rose, pale and agitated.

"Coconnas was right," murmured he; "I am becoming entangled in the net of intrigue, and it will destroy me." "Well," said Margaret.

"This is my answer," returned la Mole. "Even at the extremity of France, where the reputation of your beauty reached me, and gave me my first desire to visit Paris, that I might see you, I have heard it said, that you have often loved, and that your love has always been fatal to its objects; death, doubtless jealous of their happiness, removed them from you. Do not interrupt me, Marguerite. It is added, that you have ever with you the embalmed hearts of these departed ones, and that, at times, you bestow on these sad remains a piteous sigh, perchance a tear. You sigh, my queen, your eyes are lowered to the ground; it is true, then? Well; let me be favoured as these were, only with this difference; swear that if (as a sombre presentiment assures me I shall,) I perish beneath the executioner's stroke in your service, you will preserve that head which I shall forfeit, and will sometimes look upon it. Swear this, and the prospect of such a reward shall make me be, or do, whatever you command me.' "Oh, gloomy foreboding!" said the queen.

"Swear!" "Swear?"

"Yes, on this cross-surmounted coffer."

"I swear," said Marguerite, "that if your sombre presentiment be realized, you shall be near me, living or dead, so long as I myself shall live; if I cannot save you, you shall have the poor consolation you ask, and which you will have so well merited."

66

One word more, Marguerite-I can now die happily;

but I may live; we may triumph, and not fall. The king of Navarre may become king, you will then be queen; he will take you hence; the vow of separation between you may one day be broken, and lead to my separation from you. Oh! dearest Marguerite, re-assure me also on this point.”

"Fear not," cried Marguerite, placing her hand on the cross; "if I go, you shall accompany me; if the king refuses to take you, I myself will not depart."

"But you will not dare resist him."

"Dear Hyacinthe," said Marguerite, "you do not know the king; Henry thinks but of one thing, that of becoming a king, and to that he would sacrifice all; and now, farewell!"

From this evening la Mole was no longer a common favourite, and he could proudly hold up that head, for which, living or dead, so high a destiny was reserved. Yet sometimes his eyes were fixed on the ground, his cheek grew pale, and deep meditation drew furrows on the brow of the young man, once so gay, now so happy.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE.

As Henry left madame de Sauve, he said to her:— "Charlotte, confine yourself to your bed; pretend to be exceedingly ill, and do not receive any person during the day under any pretext whatsoever.”

Charlotte, knowing that Henry had secrets which he revealed to no one, complied with all his directions, certain that his conduct was based on some good and sufficing grounds.

Thus, in the evening, she complained to her attendant Dariole of a heaviness in the head, accompanied with faintness, these being the symptoms Henry had requested her to feign.

The next morning she seemed desirous of rising, but scarcely had she placed her foot on the floor than she complained of general weakness, and returned to her bed.