LITMIR.BIZ

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was going to say – to say" —

      "Well?"

      "I was going to say," continued the queen, laughing, "if the stone my brother spoke of be a fact, I should resist."

      "Ah!" cried Henriette, "so you have chosen a Huguenot, have you? Well, to reassure your conscience, I promise you that I will choose one myself on the first opportunity."

      "Ah, so you have chosen a Catholic, have you?"

      "Mordi!" replied the duchess.

      "I see, I see."

      "And what is this Huguenot of yours?"

      "I did not choose him. The young man is nothing and probably never will be anything to me."

      "But what sort is he? You can tell me that; you know how curious I am about these matters."

      "A poor young fellow, beautiful as Benvenuto Cellini's Nisus, – and he came and took refuge in my room."

      "Oho! – of course without any suggestion on your part?"

      "Poor fellow! Do not laugh so, Henriette; at this very moment he is between life and death."

      "He is ill, is he?"

      "He is grievously wounded."

      "A wounded Huguenot is very disagreeable, especially in these times; and what have you done with this wounded Huguenot, who is not and never will be anything to you?"

      "He is in my closet; I am concealing him and I want to save him."

      "He is handsome! he is young! he is wounded. You hide him in your closet; you want to save him. This Huguenot of yours will be very ungrateful if he is not too grateful."

      "I am afraid he is already – much more so than I could wish."

      "And this poor young man interests you?"

      "From motives of humanity – that's all."

      "Ah, humanity! my poor queen, that is the very virtue that is the ruin of all of us women."

      "Yes; and you understand: as the King, the Duc d'Alençon, my mother, even my husband, may at any moment enter my room" —

      "You want me to hide your little Huguenot as long as he is ill, on condition I send him back to you when he is cured?"

      "Scoffer!" said Marguerite, "no! I do not lay my plans so far in advance; but if you could conceal the poor fellow, – if you could preserve the life I have saved, – I confess I should be most grateful. You are free at the Hôtel de Guise; you have neither brother-in-law nor husband to spy on you or constrain you; besides, behind your room there is a closet like mine into which no one is entitled to enter; so lend me your closet for my Huguenot, and when he is cured open the cage and let the bird fly away."

      "There is only one difficulty, my dear queen: the cage is already occupied."

      "What, have you also saved somebody?"

      "That is exactly what I answered your brother with."

      "Ah, I understand! that's why you spoke so low that I could not hear you."

      "Listen, Marguerite: it is an admirable story – is no less poetical and romantic than yours. After I had left you six of my guards, I returned with the rest to the Hôtel de Guise, and I was watching them pillage and burn a house separated from my brother's palace only by the Rue des Quatre Fils, when I heard the voices of men swearing and of women crying. I went out on the balcony and the first thing I saw was a sword flashing so brilliantly that it seemed to light up the whole scene. I was filled with admiration for this fiery sword. I am fond of fine things, you know! Then naturally enough I tried to distinguish the arm wielding it and then the body to which the arm belonged. Amid sword-thrusts and shouts I at last made out the man and I saw – a hero, an Ajax Telamon. I heard a voice – the voice of a Stentor. My enthusiasm awoke – I stood there panting, trembling at every blow aimed at him, at every thrust he parried! That was a quarter hour of emotion such as I had never before experienced, my queen; and never believed was possible to experience. So there I was panting, holding my breath, trembling, and voiceless, when all of a sudden my hero disappeared."

      "How?"

      "Struck down by a stone an old woman threw at him. Then, like Cyrus, I found my voice, and screamed, 'Help! help!' my guards went out, lifted him up, and bore him to the room which you want for your protégé."

      "Alas, my dear Henriette, I can better understand this story because it is so nearly my own."

      "With this difference, queen, that as I am serving my King and my religion, I have no reason to send Monsieur Annibal de Coconnas away."

      "His name is Annibal de Coconnas!" said Marguerite, laughing.

      "A terrible name, is it not? Well, he who bears it is worthy of it. What a champion he is, by Heaven! and how he made the blood flow! Put on your mask, my queen, for we are now at the palace."

      "Why put on my mask?"

      "Because I wish to show you my hero."

      "Is he handsome?"

      "He seemed magnificent to me during the conflict. To be sure, it was at night and he was lighted up by the flames. This morning by daylight I confess he seemed to me to have lost a little."

      "So then my protégé is rejected at the Hôtel de Guise. I am sorry for it, for that is the last place where they would look for a Huguenot."

      "Oh, no, your Huguenot shall come; I will have him brought this evening: one shall sleep in the right-hand corner of the closet and the other in the left."

      "But when they recognize each other as Protestant and Catholic they will fight."

      "Oh, there is no danger. Monsieur de Coconnas has had a cut down the face that prevents him from seeing very well; your Huguenot is wounded in the chest so that he can't move; and, besides, you have only to tell him to be silent on the subject of religion, and all will go well."

      "So be it."

      "It's a bargain; and now let us go in."

      "Thanks," said Marguerite, pressing her friend's hand.

      "Here, madame," said the duchess, "you are again 'your majesty;' suffer me, then, to do the honors of the Hôtel de Guise fittingly for the Queen of Navarre."

      And the duchess, alighting from the litter, almost knelt on the ground in helping Marguerite to step down; then pointing to the palace door guarded by two sentinels, arquebuse in hand, she followed the queen at a respectful distance, and this humble attitude she maintained as long as she was in sight.

      As soon as she reached her room, the duchess closed the door, and, calling to her waiting-woman, a thorough Sicilian, said to her in Italian,

      "Mica, how is Monsieur le Comte?"

      "Better and better," replied she.

      "What is he doing?"

      "At this moment, madame, he is taking some refreshment."

      "It is always a good sign," said Marguerite, "when the appetite returns."

      "Ah, that is true. I forgot you were a pupil of Ambroise Paré. Leave us, Mica."

      "Why do you send her away?"

      "That she may be on the watch."

      Mica left the room.

      "Now," said the duchess, "will you go in to see him, or shall I send for him here?"

      "Neither the one nor the other. I wish to see him without his seeing me."

      "What matters it? You have your mask."

      "He may recognize me by my hair, my hands, a jewel."

      "How cautious she is since she has been married, my pretty queen!"

      Marguerite smiled.

      "Well," continued the duchess, "I see only one way."

      "What is that?"

      "To look through the keyhole."

      "Very well! take me to the door."

      The

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