s where he went."

"By Heaven!" cried the Piedmontese, again growing pale, "had he gone to
hell I should at least have known where he is."

"Listen," said D'Alencon, who, although for different reasons, was as
anxious as Coconnas to know La Mole's whereabouts, "I will give you the
advice of a friend."

"Give it, my lord," said Coconnas, eagerly.

"Go to Queen Marguerite. She must know what has become of the friend you
mourn."

"I will confess to your highness," said Coconnas, "that I had thought of
going to her, but I scarcely dared. Madame Marguerite has a way of
making me feel somewhat uncomfortable at times, and besides this, I
feared that I might find her in tears. But since your highness assures
me that La Mole is not dead and that her majesty knows where he is I
will take heart and go to her."

"Do so, my friend," said Francois. "And when you find out where La Mole
is, let me know, for really I am as anxious as you are. But remember one
thing, Coconnas"--

"What?"

"Do not say you have come at my suggestion, for if you do you will learn
nothing."

"Monseigneur," said Coconnas, "since your highness recommends secrecy on
this point, I shall be as silent as a tench or as the queen mother."

"What a kind, good, generous prince he is!" murmured Coconnas as he set
out to find the Queen of Navarre.

Marguerite was expecting Coconnas, for the report of his despair had
reached her, and on hearing by what exploits his grief had showed itself
she almost forgave him for his somewhat rude treatment of her friend
Madame la Duchesse de Nevers, to whom he had not spoken for two or
three days, owing to some misunderstanding between them. Therefore as
soon as he was announced to the queen he was admitted.

Coconnas entered the room, unable to overcome the constraint which he
had mentioned to D'Alencon, and which he had always felt in the presence
of the queen. It was caused more by her superior intellect than by her
rank. But Marguerite received him with a smile which at once put him at
his ease.

"Ah, madame," said he, "give me back my friend, I beg you, or at least
tell me what has become of him, for without him I cannot live. Imagine
Euryalus without Nisus, Damon without Pythias, or Orestes without
Pylades, and pity my grief for the sake of one of the heroes I have just
mentioned, whose heart, I swear, was no more tender than mine."

Marguerite smiled, and having made Coconnas promise not to reveal the
secret,