But when she had lost all hope, after the scene in the chapel, after,
out of a last feeling of piety for that love, the greatest and the
deepest she had ever known, she had been present at the execution, she
resolved that neither prayers nor threats should force her to attend a
joyous festival at the Louvre the same day on which she had witnessed so
terrible a scene at the Greve.

That day King Charles had given another proof of the will power which no
one perhaps carried as far as he. In bed for a fortnight, weak as a
dying man, pale as a corpse, yet he rose about five o'clock and donned
his most beautiful clothes, although during his toilet he fainted three
times.

At eight o'clock he asked what had become of his sister, and inquired if
any one had seen her and what she was doing. No one could tell him, for
the queen had gone to her apartments about eleven o'clock and had
absolutely refused admittance to every one.

But there was no refusal for Charles. Leaning on the arm of Monsieur de
Nancey, he went to the queen's rooms and entered unannounced by the
secret corridor.

Although he had expected a melancholy sight, and had prepared himself
for it in advance, that which he saw was even more distressing than he
had anticipated.

Marguerite, half dead, was lying on a divan, her head buried in the
cushions, neither weeping nor praying, but moaning like one in great
agony; and this she had been doing ever since her return from the Greve.
At the other end of the chamber Henriette de Nevers, that daring woman,
lay stretched on the carpet unconscious. On coming back from the Greve
her strength, like Marguerite's, had given out, and poor Gillonne was
going from one to the other, not daring to offer a word of consolation.

In the crises which follow great catastrophes one hugs one's grief like
a treasure, and any one who attempts to divert us, ever so slightly, is
looked on as an enemy. Charles IX. closed the door, and leaving Nancey
in the corridor entered, pale and trembling.

Neither of the women had seen him. Gillonne alone, who was trying to
revive Henriette, rose on one knee, and looked in a startled way at the
King.

The latter made a sign with his hand, whereupon the girl rose,
courtesied, and withdrew.

Charles then approached Marguerite, looked at her a moment in silence,
and in a tone of which his harsh voice was supposed to be incapable,
said:

"Margot! my sister!"

The young woman started and sat up.