one is ambitious, and has the misfortune to be only third in the
succession to the throne."

Then she put her finger on her lip, to intimate to Francois that in
spite of the initiation she still kept secret an important part of her
idea.

"Perhaps," she added, "you may differ from Henry, in considering it not
befitting that this young gentleman should remain so immediately in the
vicinity of my apartments."

"Sister," replied Francois, eagerly, "if it meet your wishes, Monsieur
de la Mole shall, in half an hour, be installed in my quarters, where, I
think, he can have no cause to fear any danger. Let him love me and I
will love him."

Francois was untruthful, for already in the very depths of his heart he
detested La Mole.

"Well, well! So then I was not mistaken," said Marguerite to herself,
seeing the King of Navarre's scowling face. "Ah, I see that to lead you
two, one must lead the other."

Then finishing her thought:

"There! 'then you are doing well, Marguerite,' Henriette would say."

In fact, half an hour later La Mole, having been solemnly catechised by
Marguerite, kissed the hem of her gown and with an agility remarkable in
a wounded man was mounting the stairs that led to the Duc d'Alencon's
quarters.

* * * * *

Two or three days passed, during which the excellent understanding
between Henry and his wife seemed to grow more and more firmly
established.

Henry had obtained permission not to make a public renunciation of his
religion; but he had formally recanted in the presence of the king's
confessor, and every morning he listened to the mass performed at the
Louvre. At night he made a show of going to his wife's rooms, entered by
the principal door, talked a few minutes with her, and then took his
departure by the small secret door, and went up to Madame de Sauve, who
had duly informed him of the queen mother's visit as well as the
unquestionable danger which threatened him. Warned on both sides, Henry
redoubled his watchfulness against the queen mother and felt all
distrust of her because little by little her face began to unbend, and
one morning Henry detected a friendly smile on her bloodless lips. That
day he had the greatest difficulty to bring himself to eat anything else
than eggs cooked by himself or to drink anything else than water which
his own eyes had seen dipped up from the Seine.

The massacres were still going on, but nevertheless were diminishi