Henry took his tablets from the pocket of his doublet, tore out a page of the paper, and beneath the name Marie Touchet he wrote Je charme tout (I charm all), and then handed the leaf to the young girl.

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Really," she exclaimed, "it is impossible!"

"What has he found?" inquired Charles.

"Sire, I dare not repeat it."

"Sire," said Henry, "in the name of Marie Touchet there is letter for letter, only changing the I into J, which is customary, the words Je charme tout."

"So it does," cried Charles, "exactly-beautifully! This shall be your device, Marie, and never was device better merited. Thanks, Harry! Marie, I will give it to you set in diamonds."

The supper finished as it struck two o'clock by Notre Dame.

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Now, Marie," said Charles, "in recompense for the compliment, give him an arm-chair, in which he may sleep till daybreak-a long way off from us though, for he snores fearfully. If, Harry, you wake before me, rouse me, for we must be at the Bastille by six o'clock. Good nightmake yourself as comfortable as you can. But," added the king, placing his hand on Henry's shoulder, "on your life, Harry, on your life, do not leave this house without me."

Henry had suspected too much, to feel any desire of despising this caution.

Charles IX. went to his chamber, and Henry, the hardy mountaineer, soon made himself quite comfortable in his armchair, and speedily justified the precaution his brother-in-law had taken in keeping him at a distance. In the morning, Charles aroused him, and as he was dressed, his toilette did not occupy him very long.

They both passed through the bedchamber, where the young girl was sleeping in her bed, and the baby in its cradle. They both were smiling as they slept. Charles looked at them very tenderly, and turning to the king of Navarre, said to him

Harry, if you should ever learn what service I have this night rendered you, and any misfortune should happen to me, remember this child which rests here in its cradle." Then

kissing them both, he said, "Adieu, my angels!" and left the apartment. Henry followed, buried deeply in thought.

Two horses, held by his gentlemen, awaited them at the Bastille; Charles made a sign to Henry to mount, and going by the garden of the Arbalète, they went towards the exterior Boulevards. When they reached the Marais, where they were sheltered by the palisades, Charles directed Henry's attention, through the thick haze of the morning, to some men wrapped in long mantles and wearing fur caps, who were on horseback beside a wagon heavily laden.

"Ah, ah!" said Charles, smiling, "I thought so."

"Eh, sire," observed Henry, "is not one of them the duke d'Anjou?"

Himself," said Charles. "Keep back, Harry! don't let them see us.'

"And who are the other men, and what is in the wagon?" "The men are the Polish ambassadors, and in the wagon is a crown; and now," he added, putting his horse to a gallop, "come, Harry, for I have seen all I wished to discover."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE RETURN TO THE LOUVRE.

WHEN Catherine believed all was arranged in the king of Navarre's chamber, that the dead soldiers were removed, Maurevel conveyed away, and the carpets washed, she dismissed her maids, for it was nearly midnight, and attempted to go to sleep; but the shock had been too severe, the deception too great. The detested Henry eternally escaped her plots, well-laid and deadly as they were; he seemed protected by some invisible power, which Catherine persisted in calling chance, although in the depths of her heart a voice told her that the real name of this power was destiny. Sleep came not to her eyes, and her brain filled with fresh projects, she rose at break of day, dressed herself, and went towards Charles's apartments, where she found his nurse in the antechamber.

"Nurse, I desire to see my son."

“Madame, I will not open the door, except on the formal order of your majesty."

"Open, nurse, I command you.”

The nurse at this voice, more respected and more dreaded than that of Charles himself, presented the key to Catherine; but Catherine had no need of it, drawing from her pocket a key of her own, which opened her son's door in an instant.

The chamber was unoccupied; Charles's couch was undisturbed; and his two greyhounds, lying down on a bearskin, rose, and coming to Catherine, licked her hands.

"Ah!” said the queen, "he has gone out; I will await him."

And she seated herself gloomily in the recess of a window which looked into the principal court of the Louvre. For two hours she remained there, pale and immovable as a marble statue, when at length she saw a troop of cavaliers enter the gate, at the head of whom she beheld Charles and Henry of Navarre.

Then she comprehended all. Charles, instead of debating with her as to the arrest of his brother-in-law, had carried him off, and thus saved him.

"Blind, blind, blind!" she murmured; and she waited where she was.

A moment afterwards she heard footsteps without, and Charles, lifting the tapestry, found himself in the presence of

his mother.

Behind him, and looking over his shoulder, was the pale and uneasy countenance of the Béarnais.

"Ah! you here, madame?" said Charles IX., frowning. "Yes, my son; I wish to speak with you."

"To me?"

"You, and alone."

"Well, well," said Charles, turning towards his brother-inlaw, "since it cannot be avoided, the sooner the better." "I leave you, sir," said Henry.

"Yes, yes, do," replied Charles; "and since you are a catholic, Harry, go and hear mass on my behalf; as for me, I shall stay and hear the sermon."

Henry bowed, and left the apartment.

Charles IX. anticipating the questions which his mother

would address to him, said, trying to turn the affair into a jest " Well, madame, pardieu! you are going to scold me, are you not? I made your little plot fail most signally. Well, mort d'un diable! I really could not allow to be arrested and conveyed to the Bastille the man who had just saved my life; so forgive me, and confess that the joke was a capital one.” "Sire," replied Catherine, "your majesty is mistaken; it was not a joke."

"Yes, yes, and so you will say, or the devil take me!" "Sire, you have by your own fault caused the failure of a plan which would have led us to a grand discovery."

"Come," said the king, "come, let us know all about it. What have you to complain of against Harry?" "Why, that he is in a conspiracy."

"Yes, of course; that is your everlasting accusation." "Listen," said Catherine, "listen, and you will find a means of proving whether or no I am wrong."

Well, how, mother?"

"Inquire from Henry who was in his chamber last night; and if he tells you, I am ready to confess that I was wrong.' "But suppose it was a woman, we cannot suppose

"A woman who killed two of your guards, and has wounded, perhaps mortally, M. de Maurevel!"

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Ah, ah!" said the king-" this grows serious. There has been blood spilt, then?"

"Three men were levelled with the earth."

"And he who left them in this condition

Escaped, safe and sound."

"By Gog and Magog!" cried Charles, "he was a gallant fellow, and you are right, mother. I should like to know him." "Well, I tell you beforehand you will not learn who it is, at least from Henry."

"But from you, mother. This man did not flee without leaving some traces,-without some portion of his dress being remarked."

"Nothing was observed but the elegant cherry-coloured mantle which he wore."

"Ah, ah! a cherry-coloured mantle!" said Charles; "I know but one at court so remarkable."

"Precisely," said Catherine.

"Well!" replied Charles.

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Well," answered Catherine, "await me here, my son, whilst I go to see if my orders have been executed." Catherine went out, leaving Charles alone, and he paced up and down thoughtfully, whistling a hunting air, with one hand in his doublet, and letting the other hang down for his dogs to lick every time he paused.

As to Henry, he had left his brother-in-law's apartments very uneasy, and instead of going along the usual corridor, he had ascended the small private staircase we have before referred to, and which led to the second story, but scarcely had he gone up four steps than he saw a shadow: he stopped, and put his hand to his dagger, but immediately recognised a female, and a charming voice familiar to his ear, said:

"Heaven be praised, sire! you are safe and sound. I was in great alarm about you, but Heaven has heard my prayer.' "What, then, has happened?" inquired Henry.

"You will know when you reach your apartments. Do not be uneasy about Orthon; I have taken care of him."

And the young lady descended the stairs rapidly, passing Henry as if she had met him accidentally.

"This is very strange," said Henry to himself; “what can have happened?-what has occurred to Orthon?"

The question, unfortunately, could not reach madame de Sauve, for madame de Sauve was already out of hearing. At the top of the staircase Henry saw another shadow; it was that of a man.

"Go into your rooms, and you will see; then go quictly into the corridor, look carefully about that no one sees you, and come to me-my door will be ajar."

And he disappeared, in his turn, down the staircase, like a ghost in a theatre down a trap.

"Ventre-saint-gris!" muttered the Béarnais, "the mystery grows thicker, but as the solution is to be found in my apartment, let us go thither."

He reached the door, and listened; there was not a sound.

T