eak frankly. You have
come to an agreement a score of times; you cannot raise yourself or even
hold your own except by mutual help. This alliance"--

"Has now become impossible, sister," interrupted the Duc d'Alencon.

"And why so?"

"Because the King has designs on your husband! Pardon me, when I said
_your husband_, I erred; I meant Henry of Navarre. Our mother has seen
through the whole thing. I entered into an alliance with the Huguenots
because I believed the Huguenots were in favor; but now they are killing
the Huguenots, and in another week there will not remain fifty in the
whole kingdom. I gave my hand to the King of Navarre because he
was--your husband; but now he is not your husband. What can you say to
that--you who are not only the loveliest woman in France, but have the
clearest head in the kingdom?"

"Why, I have this to say," replied Marguerite, "I know our brother
Charles; I saw him yesterday in one of those fits of frenzy, every one
of which shortens his life ten years. I have to say that unfortunately
these attacks are very frequent, and that thus, in all probability, our
brother Charles has not very long to live; and, finally, I have to say
that the King of Poland has just died, and the question of electing a
prince of the house of France in his stead is much discussed; and when
circumstances are thus, it is not the moment to abandon allies who, in
the moment of struggle, might support us with the strength of a nation
and the power of a kingdom."

"And you!" exclaimed the duke, "do you not act much more treasonably to
me in preferring a foreigner to your own brother?"

"Explain yourself, Francois! In what have I acted treasonably to you?"

"You yesterday begged the life of the King of Navarre from King
Charles."

"Well?" said Marguerite, with pretended innocence.

The duke rose hastily, paced round the chamber twice or thrice with a
bewildered air, then came back and took Marguerite's hand.

It was cold and unresponsive.

"Good-by, sister!" he said at last. "You will not understand me; do not,
therefore, complain of whatever misfortunes may happen to you."

Marguerite grew pale, but remained motionless in her place. She saw the
Duc d'Alencon go away, without making any attempt to detain him; but he
had scarcely more than disappeared down the corridor when he returned.

"Listen, Marguerite," he said, "I had forgotten to tell you one thing;
that is, that by this time to-morrow the King o