THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas

give me the opportunity to begin also.”

      “I am glad to find you of this mind, madame, and I trust that you have not for one instant doubted that I would lose sight of the plan I resolved to carry out the very day when, thanks to your brave intervention, I was almost sure of being safe.”

      “Monsieur, I think that your carelessness is nothing but a mask, and I have faith not only in the predictions by the astrologers, but in your good genius as well.”

      “What should you say, madame, if someone were to upset our plans and threaten to reduce us to an ordinary position?”

      “I should say that I was ready to fight with you, either openly or in secret, against this someone, whoever he might be.”

      “Madame,” continued Henry, “it is possible for you, is it not, to gain immediate admission into the room of your brother, Monsieur d’Alençon? You are in his confidence and he is very friendly to you; might I venture to beg you to find out if he is at present holding a secret conference with someone?”

      Marguerite gave a start.

      “With whom, monsieur?” she asked.

      “With De Mouy.”

      “Why?” asked Marguerite, repressing her emotion.

      “Because if such is the case, madame, farewell to all our projects, or to all mine, at least.”

      “Sire, speak softly,” said Marguerite, making a sign with her eyes and lips, and pointing to the cabinet.

      “Oh! oh!” said Henry, “still someone? Indeed, that cabinet is so often occupied that it makes your room uninhabitable.”

      Marguerite smiled.

      “Is it still Monsieur de la Mole?” asked Henry.

      “No, sire, it is Monsieur de Mouy.”

      “He?” cried Henry with surprise mingled with joy. “He is not with the Duc d’Alençon, then? Oh! have him come in, that I may talk to him.”

      Marguerite stepped to the cabinet, opened it, and taking De Mouy by the hand led him without preamble to the King of Navarre.

      “Ah! madame,” said the young Huguenot, in a tone of reproach more sad than bitter, “you have betrayed me in spite of your promise; that is wrong. What should you do if I were to avenge myself by saying”—

      “You will not avenge yourself, De Mouy,” interrupted Henry, pressing the young man’s hand, “or at least you will listen to me first. Madame,” continued Henry, turning to the queen, “be kind enough, I beg you, to see that no one overhears us.”

      Scarcely had Henry uttered these words when Gillonne entered, frightened, and whispered a few words to Marguerite, which caused the latter to spring from her seat. While she hastened to the antechamber with Gillonne, Henry, without troubling himself as to why she had left the room, examined the bed, the side of it, as well as the draperies, and sounded the wall with his fingers. As to Monsieur de Mouy, frightened at all these preparations, he first of all made sure that his sword was out of its sheath.

      Leaving her sleeping-room, Marguerite hastened to the antechamber and came face to face with La Mole, who in spite of all the protests of Gillonne had forced his way into Marguerite’s room.

      Coconnas was behind him, ready to urge him forward or sustain a retreat.

      “Ah! it is you, Monsieur la Mole!” cried the queen; “but what is the matter, and why are you so pale and trembling?”

      “Madame,” said Gillonne, “Monsieur de la Mole knocked at the door so that, in spite of your majesty’s orders, I was forced to open it.”

      “What is the meaning of this?” said the queen, severely; “is this true, Monsieur de la Mole?”

      “Madame, I wanted to warn your majesty that a stranger, a robber perhaps, had gained admittance to your rooms with my cloak and my hat.”

      “You are mad, monsieur,” said Marguerite, “for I see your cloak on your shoulders, and, God forgive me, I think I see your hat on your head, even though you are speaking to a queen.”

      “Oh! pardon me, madame, pardon me!” cried La Mole, quickly uncovering; “but God is my witness, it is not my respect which is lacking.”

      “No, it is your trust, is it not?” said the queen.

      “What can you expect?” cried La Mole, “when a man is in your majesty’s rooms; when he gains admittance by assuming my clothes, and perhaps my name, who knows”—

      “A man!” cried Marguerite, softly pressing her poor lover’s arm; “a man! You are modest, Monsieur de la Mole. Look through the opening of the portière and you will see two men.”

      Marguerite drew back the velvet portière embroidered in gold, and La Mole saw Henry talking with the man in the cherry-colored cloak. Coconnas, as though he himself were concerned, looked also, saw, and recognized De Mouy. Both men stood amazed.

      “Now that you are reassured, or at least now that I hope you are,” said Marguerite, “take your stand outside my door, and for your life, my dear La Mole, let no one enter. If any one even approaches the stairs, warn me.” La Mole, weak and obedient as a child, withdrew, glancing at Coconnas, who looked at him. Both found themselves outside without having thoroughly recovered from their astonishment.

      “De Mouy!” cried Coconnas.

      “Henry!” murmured La Mole.

      “De Mouy with your cherry-colored cloak, your white plume, and your swinging arm.”

      “Ah!” went on La Mole, “the moment it is not a question of love, it is a question of plot.”

      “By Heaven! here we are in the midst of politics,” said Coconnas grumbling. “Fortunately I do not see Madame de Nevers mixed up in it.”

      Marguerite returned and sat down by the two speakers. She had been gone only a moment, but had made the most of her time. Gillonne, on guard in the secret passage, and the two gentlemen on duty at the main entrance, assured perfect safety for her.

      “Madame,” said Henry, “do you think it would be possible for us to be overheard in any way?”

      “Monsieur,” said Marguerite, “the walls of this room are wadded, and a double wainscoting deadens all sound.”

      “I depend on you,” replied Henry smiling. Then turning to De Mouy:

      “Now,” said the king, in a low tone, as if in spite of the assurance of Marguerite his fears were not wholly overcome, “what are you here for?”

      “Here?” said De Mouy.

      “Yes, here, in this room,” repeated Henry.

      “He had nothing to do here,” said Marguerite; “I induced him to come.”

      “You?”

      “I guessed everything.”

      “You see, De Mouy, we can discover what is going on.”

      “This morning,” continued Marguerite, “Monsieur de Mouy was with Duc François in the apartment of two of his gentlemen.”

      “You see, De Mouy,” repeated Henry, “we know everything.”

      “That is true,” said De Mouy.

      “I was sure,” said Henry, “that Monsieur d’Alençon had taken possession of you.”

      “That is your fault, sire. Why did you so persistently refuse what I offered you?”

      “You refused!” exclaimed Marguerite. “The refusal I feared, then, was real?”

      “Madame,” said Henry, shaking his head, “and you, my brave De Mouy, really, you make me laugh with your exclamations. What! a man enters my chamber, speaks to me of