at length thought she detected Catharine's plan.

She took pen and ink, and wrote:

"_Instead of going to Madame de Sauve to-night, come to the Queen
of Navarre._"

"_MARGUERITE._"

She rolled up the paper, put it in the hollow of the key, and ordered
Gillonne to slip the key under the king's door as soon as it was dark.

This first duty having been attended to, Marguerite thought of the
wounded man, closed all the doors, entered the closet, and, to her great
surprise, found La Mole dressed in all his clothes, torn and
blood-stained as they were.

On seeing her he strove to rise, but, still dizzy, could not stand, and
fell back upon the sofa which had served for his bed.

"What is the matter, sir?" asked Marguerite; "and why do you thus
disobey your physician's orders? I recommended you rest, and instead of
following my advice you do just the contrary."

"Oh, madame," said Gillonne, "it is not my fault; I have entreated
Monsieur le Comte not to commit this folly, but he declares that nothing
shall keep him any longer at the Louvre."

"Leave the Louvre!" said Marguerite, gazing with astonishment at the
young man, who cast down his eyes. "Why, it is impossible--you cannot
walk; you are pale and weak; your knees tremble. Only a few hours ago
the wound in your shoulder was still bleeding."

"Madame," said the young man, "as earnestly as I thanked your majesty
for having given me shelter, as earnestly do I pray you now to suffer me
to depart."

"I scarcely know what to call such a resolution," said Marguerite; "it
is worse than ingratitude."

"Oh," cried La Mole, clasping his hands, "think me not ungrateful; my
gratitude will cease only with my life."

"It will not last long, then," said Marguerite, moved at these words,
the sincerity of which it was impossible to doubt; "for your wounds will
open, and you will die from loss of blood, or you will be recognized for
a Huguenot and killed ere you have gone fifty yards in the street."

"Nevertheless I must leave the Louvre," murmured La Mole.

"Must," returned Marguerite, fixing her serene, inscrutable eyes upon
him; then turning rather pale she added, "ah, yes; forgive me, sir, I
understand; doubtless there is some one outside the Louvre who is
anxiously waiting for you. You are right, Monsieur de la Mole; it is
natural, and I understand it. Why didn't you say so at first? or
rather, why didn't I think of it