e, oh, my well-loved Margarita, for they add that you
preserve the hearts of these faithful friends in gold boxes[10], and
that occasionally you bestow a melancholy thought, a pious glance on the
sad remains. You sigh, my queen, your eyes droop; it is true. Well! make
me the dearest and the happiest of your favorites. You have pierced the
hearts of others, and you keep their hearts. You do more with me, you
expose my head. Well, Marguerite, swear to me before the image of the
God who has saved my life in this very place, swear to me, that if I die
for you, as a sad presentiment tells me I shall do, swear to me that you
will keep my head, which the hangman will separate from my body; and
that you will sometimes press your lips to it. Swear, Marguerite, and
the promise of such reward bestowed by my queen will make me silent,
and, if necessary, a traitor and a coward; this is being wholly devoted,
as your lover and your accomplice should be."

"Oh! what ghastly foolishness, dear heart!" said Marguerite. "Oh! fatal
thought, sweet love."

"Swear"--

"Swear?"

"Yes, on this silver chest with its cross. Swear."

"Well!" said Marguerite, "if--and God forbid!--your gloomy presentiment
is realized, my fine gentleman, on this cross I swear to you that you
shall be near me, living or dead, so long as I live; and if I am unable
to rescue you from the peril which comes to you through me, through me
alone, I will at least give to your poor soul the consolation for which
you ask, and which you will so well have deserved."

"One word more, Marguerite. I can die now. I shall not mind death; but I
can live, too, for we may succeed. The King of Navarre, king, you may be
queen, in which case he will take you away. This vow of separation
between you will some day be broken, and will do away with ours. Now,
Marguerite, my well-beloved Marguerite, with a word you have taken away
my every fear of death; now with a word keep up my courage concerning
life."

"Oh, fear nothing, I am yours, body and soul!" cried Marguerite, again
raising her hand to the cross on the little chest. "If I leave, you
follow, and if the king refuses to take you, then I shall not go."

"But you dare not resist!"

"My well-beloved Hyacinthe," said Marguerite, "you do not know Henry. At
present he is thinking of only one thing, that is, of being king. For
this he would sacrifice everything he owns, and, still more, what he
does not own. Now, adieu!"

"Madame,"