se of some other Huguenot residents in the Louvre.

After glancing round to assure herself that she was really alone, she
again went to the "ruelle" of her bed, lifted the damask covering which
had concealed La Mole from the Duc d'Alencon, and drawing the apparently
lifeless body, by great exertion, into the middle of the room, and
finding that the victim still breathed, sat down, placed his head on her
knees, and sprinkled his face with water.

Then as the water cleared away the mask of blood, dust, and gunpowder
which had covered his face, Marguerite recognized the handsome cavalier
who, full of life and hope, had three or four hours before come to ask
her to look out for his interests with her protection and that of the
King of Navarre; and had gone away, dazzled by her beauty, leaving her
also impressed by his.

Marguerite uttered a cry of terror, for now what she felt for the
wounded man was more than mere pity--it was interest. He was no longer a
mere stranger: he was almost an acquaintance. By her care La Mole's fine
features soon reappeared, free from stain, but pale and distorted by
pain. A shudder ran through her whole frame as she tremblingly placed
her hand on his heart. It was still beating. Then she took a
smelling-bottle from the table, and applied it to his nostrils.

La Mole opened his eyes.

"Oh! _mon Dieu!_" murmured he; "where am I?"

"Saved!" said Marguerite. "Reassure yourself--you are saved."

La Mole turned his eyes on the queen, gazed earnestly for a moment, and
murmured,

"Oh, how beautiful you are!"

Then as if the vision were too much for him, he closed his lids and drew
a sigh.

Marguerite started. He had become still paler than before, if that were
possible, and for an instant that sigh was his last.

"Oh, my God! my God!" she ejaculated, "have pity on him!"

At this moment a violent knocking was heard at the door. Marguerite half
raised herself, still supporting La Mole.

"Who is there?" she cried.

"Madame, it is I--it is I," replied a woman's voice, "the Duchesse de
Nevers."

"Henriette!" cried Marguerite. "There is no danger; it is a friend of
mine! Do you hear, sir?"

La Mole with some effort got up on one knee.

"Try to support yourself while I go and open the door," said the queen.

La Mole rested his hand on the floor and succeeded in holding himself
upright.

Marguerite took one step toward the door, but suddenly stopped,
shivering with terror.

"Ah, you