not dare"--

"Simply because it in no way concerned me," answered Marguerite. "But
explain yourself to the king--explain!"

"Well, what was the vow?" asked the king.

"Sire," said La Mole, "when pursued by assassins, myself unarmed, and
almost expiring from my two wounds, I fancied I beheld my mother's
spirit holding a cross in her hands and guiding me to the Louvre. Then I
vowed that if my life were preserved I would adopt the religion of my
mother, who had been permitted to leave her grave to direct me to a
place of safety during that horrible night. Heaven conducted me here,
sire. I find myself here under the protection of a princess of France
and of the King of Navarre; my life was miraculously saved, therefore I
must fulfil my vow. I am ready to become a Catholic."

Henry frowned. Sceptic that he was, he could well understand a change of
religion from motives of interest, but he distrusted abjuration through
faith.

"The king does not want to take charge of my _protege_," thought
Marguerite.

La Mole still remained mute and awkward between the two opposing wills.
He felt, without being able to define why, that he was in a ridiculous
position. Marguerite's womanly tact came to his relief.

"Sire," said she, "we forget that the poor wounded gentleman has need of
repose. I myself am half asleep. Ah, see!"

La Mole did indeed turn pale; but it was at Marguerite's last words,
which he had interpreted according to his own ideas.

"Well, madame," answered Henry, "nothing can be simpler. Can we not
leave Monsieur de la Mole to take his repose."

The young man fixed a supplicating look on Marguerite, and, in spite of
the presence of the two majesties, sunk upon a chair, overcome with
fatigue and pain.

Marguerite understood all the love in his look, all the despair in his
weakness.

"Sire," said she, "your majesty is bound to confer on this young man,
who imperilled his life for his king, since he received his wounds while
coming hither to inform you of the admiral's death and Teligny's,--your
majesty is bound, I repeat, to confer on him an honor for which he will
be grateful all his life long."

"What is it, madame?" asked Henry. "Command me, I am ready."

"Monsieur de la Mole must sleep to-night at your majesty's feet, while
you, sire, can sleep on this couch. With the permission of my august
spouse," added Marguerite, smiling, "I will summon Gillonne and return
to bed, for I assure you I am not the lea