On the floor of the cellar lay two human
forms covered with a wide cloth of black serge.

Caboche raised a corner of it, and, lowering the torch:

"See, madame," said he.

In their black clothes lay the two young men, side by side, in the
strange symmetry of death. Their heads had been placed close to their
bodies, from which they seemed to be separated only by a bright red
circle about the neck. Death had not disunited their hands, for either
from chance or the kind care of the hangman the right hand of La Mole
rested in Coconnas's left hand.

There was a look of love under the lids of La Mole, and a smile of scorn
under those of Coconnas.

Marguerite knelt down by the side of her lover, and with hands that
sparkled with gems gently raised the head she had so greatly loved.

The Duchesse de Nevers leaned against the wall, unable to remove her
eyes from that pale face on which so often she had gazed for pleasure
and for love.

"La Mole! Dear La Mole!" murmured Marguerite.

"Annibal! Annibal!" cried the duchess, "so beautiful! so proud! so
brave! Never again will you answer me!"

And her eyes filled with tears.

This woman, so scornful, so intrepid, so insolent in happiness; this
woman who carried scepticism as far as absolute doubt, passion to the
point of cruelty; this woman had never thought of death.

Marguerite was the first to move.

She put into a bag, embroidered with pearls and perfumed with finest
essences, the head of La Mole, more beautiful than ever as it rested
against the velvet and the gold, and the beauty of which was to be
preserved by a special preparation, used at that time in the embalming
of royal personages.

Henriette then drew near and wrapped the head of Coconnas in a fold of
her cloak.

And both women, bending beneath their grief more than beneath their
burdens, ascended the stairs with a last look at the remains which they
left to the mercy of the hangman in that sombre abode of ordinary
criminals.

"Do not fear, madame," said Caboche, who understood their look, "the
gentlemen, I promise you, shall be buried in holy ground."

"And you will have masses said for them with this," said Henriette,
taking from her neck a magnificent necklace of rubies, and handing it to
the hangman.

They returned to the Louvre by the same road by which they had gone. At
the gate the queen gave her name; at the foot of her private stairway
she descended and, returning to her rooms, laid her s