ews to tell you. Now, then,
finish your story, Marguerite."

"I was going to say--to say"--

"Well?"

"I was going to say," continued the queen, laughing, "if the stone my
brother spoke of be a fact, I should resist."

"Ah!" cried Henriette, "so you have chosen a Huguenot, have you? Well,
to reassure your conscience, I promise you that I will choose one myself
on the first opportunity."

"Ah, so you have chosen a Catholic, have you?"

"_Mordi_!" replied the duchess.

"I see, I see."

"And what is this Huguenot of yours?"

"I did not choose him. The young man is nothing and probably never will
be anything to me."

"But what sort is he? You can tell me that; you know how curious I am
about these matters."

"A poor young fellow, beautiful as Benvenuto Cellini's Nisus,--and he
came and took refuge in my room."

"Oho!--of course without any suggestion on your part?"

"Poor fellow! Do not laugh so, Henriette; at this very moment he is
between life and death."

"He is ill, is he?"

"He is grievously wounded."

"A wounded Huguenot is very disagreeable, especially in these times; and
what have you done with this wounded Huguenot, who is not and never will
be anything to you?"

"He is in my closet; I am concealing him and I want to save him."

"He is handsome! he is young! he is wounded. You hide him in your
closet; you want to save him. This Huguenot of yours will be very
ungrateful if he is not too grateful."

"I am afraid he is already--much more so than I could wish."

"And this poor young man interests you?"

"From motives of humanity--that's all."

"Ah, humanity! my poor queen, that is the very virtue that is the ruin
of all of us women."

"Yes; and you understand: as the King, the Duc d'Alencon, my mother,
even my husband, may at any moment enter my room"--

"You want me to hide your little Huguenot as long as he is ill, on
condition I send him back to you when he is cured?"

"Scoffer!" said Marguerite, "no! I do not lay my plans so far in
advance; but if you could conceal the poor fellow,--if you could
preserve the life I have saved,--I confess I should be most grateful.
You are free at the Hotel de Guise; you have neither brother-in-law nor
husband to spy on you or constrain you; besides, behind your room there
is a closet like mine into which no one is entitled to enter; so lend me
your closet for my Huguenot, and when he is cured open the cage and let
the bird fly away."

"There is