apartment, Mary and her attendants were suddenly alarmed by an
extraordinary movement in a small closet or wardrobe, in which was kept
the clothes the queen was in the habit of daily using. The maids would
have screamed out and fled from the apartment, but were checked in both
these feminine resorts by observing the calm and collected manner of
their mistress, in which there was not the slightest appearance of
perturbation.

"Ladies, ladies," she exclaimed, laughingly, as her attendants were
about to rush out of the room, "what a pretty pair of heroines ye are!
Shame, shame! ye surely would not leave your mistress alone, in the
midst of such a perilous adventure as this. Come hither," she added, at
the same time stepping towards her toilet, and taking up a small silver
lamp that burned on it, "and let us see who this intruder is--whether
ghost or gallant."

Saying this--her maids having returned, reassured by her
intrepidity--she proceeded, with steady step, towards the suspected
closet, seized the door by the handle, flung it boldly open, and
discovered, to the astonished eyes of her attendants, and to her own
inexpressible amazement, the poet Chatelard, armed with sword and
dagger. For some seconds the queen uttered not a syllable; but a flush
of indignation and of insulted pride suffused her exquisitely lovely
countenance.

"Chatelard," she at length said, in a tone of calm severity, and with a
dignity of manner becoming her high state and lineage, "come forth and
answer for this daring and atrocious conduct, this unheard-of insolence
and presumption." Chatelard obeyed, and was about to throw himself at
her feet, when she sternly forbade him.

"I want no apologies, presumptuous man," she said--"no craving of
forgiveness. I want explanation of this infamous proceeding, and that I
demand of you in the presence of my attendants here. Know ye not, sir,"
she went on, "that your head is forfeited by this offence, and that I
have but to give the word, and the forfeit will be exacted?"

"I know it, I know it," exclaimed Chatelard, persisting in throwing
himself on his knees; "but the threat has no terrors for me. It is your
displeasure alone--fairest, brightest of God's creatures--that I fear.
It is----"

"Peace, Chatelard," interrupted Mary, peremptorily. "What mean ye by
this language, sir? Would ye cut yourself off from all hope of pardon,
by adding offence upon offence? Rise, sir, and leave this apartment
instant