Etoile_ is not poor
enough to have so completely turned my head. I tell you that I have just
seen your cherry-colored cloak and your white plume under the gate of
the Louvre, that I followed both to the foot of the stairway, and that
your cloak, your plume, everything, to your swinging arm, was expected
here by a lady whom I greatly suspect to be the Queen of Navarre, and
who led you through that door, which, unless I am mistaken, is that of
the beautiful Marguerite."

"By Heaven!" cried La Mole, growing pale, "could there be treason?"

"Very good!" said Coconnas, "swear as much as you please, but do not
tell me I am mistaken."

La Mole hesitated an instant, pressing his head between his hands,
deterred by respect and jealousy. His jealousy conquered him, however,
and he hastened to the door, at which he knocked with all his might.
This caused a somewhat unusual hubbub considering the dignity of the
place in which it occurred.

"We shall be arrested," said Coconnas, "but no matter, it is very funny.
Tell me, La Mole, are there ghosts in the Louvre?"

"I know nothing about it," said the young man as pale as the plume which
shaded his brow; "but I have always wanted to see one, and as the
opportunity presents itself I shall do my best to come face to face with
this one."

"I shall not prevent you," said Coconnas, "only knock a little less
fiercely if you do not wish to frighten it away."

La Mole, exasperated as he was, felt the justice of the remark, and
began to knock more gently.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE CHERRY-COLORED CLOAK.

Coconnas was not mistaken. The lady who had stopped the cavalier of the
cherry-colored cloak was indeed the Queen of Navarre. As to the
cavalier, our reader has already guessed, I presume, that he was no
other than brave De Mouy. Upon recognizing the Queen of Navarre the
young Huguenot realized that there was some mistake; but he dared not
speak, fearing a cry from Marguerite would betray him. He preferred to
let himself be led to her apartments, and when once there to say to his
beautiful guide:

"Silence for silence, madame."

Marguerite had gently pressed the arm of him whom in the semi-darkness
she had mistaken for La Mole, and leaning toward him whispered in Latin:

"_Sola sum; introito, carissime._"[9]

De Mouy without answering let her lead him along; but scarcely was the
door closed behind him and he found himself in the antechamber, which
was better lighted than the