"Well?"
"Well, I told."
"Whom did you tell?"
"My mother."
"And Queen Catharine"--
"Queen Catharine knows that I love you."
"Oh, madame! after having done so much for me, you can demand anything from your servant. Ah, Marguerite, truly, what you did was n.o.ble and beautiful. My life is yours, Marguerite."
"I hope so, for I have s.n.a.t.c.hed it from those who wanted to take it from me. But now you are saved."
"And by you!" cried the young man; "by my adored queen!"
At that instant a sharp noise made them start. La Mole sprang back, filled with a vague terror. Marguerite uttered a cry, and stood with her eyes riveted on the broken gla.s.s of one of the window-panes.
Through this window a stone the size of an egg had entered and lay on the floor.
La Mole saw the broken pane, and realized the cause of the noise.
"Who dared to do this?" he cried, springing to the window.
"One moment," said Marguerite. "It seems to me that something is tied around the stone."
"Yes," said La Mole, "it looks like a piece of paper."
Marguerite went to the strange projectile and removed the thin sheet which, folded like a narrow band, encircled the middle of the stone.
The paper was attached to a cord, which came through the broken window.
Marguerite unfolded the letter and read.
"Unfortunate man!" she cried, holding out the paper to La Mole, who stood as pale and motionless as a statue of Terror.
With a heart filled with gloomy forebodings he read these words:
"_They are waiting for Monsieur de la Mole, with long swords, in the corridor leading to the apartments of Monsieur d"Alencon. Perhaps he would prefer to escape by this window and join Monsieur de Mouy at Mantes_"--
"Well!" asked La Mole, after reading it, "are these swords longer than mine?"
"No, but there may be ten against one."
"Who is the friend who has sent us this note?" asked La Mole.
Marguerite took it from the young man"s hand and looked at it attentively.
"The King of Navarre"s handwriting!" she cried. "If he warns us, the danger is great. Flee, La Mole, flee, I beg you."
"How?" asked La Mole.
"By this window. Does not the note refer to it?"
"Command, my queen, and I will leap from the window to obey you, if I broke my head twenty times by the fall."
"Wait, wait," said Marguerite. "It seems to me that there is a weight attached to this cord."
"Let us see," said La Mole.
Both drew up the cord, and with indescribable joy saw a ladder of hair and silk at the end of it.
"Ah! you are saved," cried Marguerite.
"It is a miracle of heaven!"
"No, it is a gift from the King of Navarre."
"But suppose it were a snare?" said La Mole. "If this ladder were to break under me? Madame, did you not acknowledge your love for me to-day?"
Marguerite, whose joy had dissipated her grief, became ashy pale.
"You are right," said she, "that is possible."
She started to the door.
"What are you going to do?" cried La Mole.
"To find out if they are really waiting for you in the corridor."
"Never! never! For their anger to fall on you?"
"What can they do to a daughter of France? As a woman and a royal princess I am doubly inviolable."
The queen uttered these words with so much dignity that La Mole understood she ran no risk, and that he must let her do as she wished.
Marguerite put La Mole under the protection of Gillonne, leaving to him to decide, according to circ.u.mstances, whether to run or await her return, and started down the corridor. A side hall led to the library as well as to several reception-rooms, and at the end led to the apartments of the King, the queen mother, and to the small private stairway by which one reached the apartments of the Duc d"Alencon and Henry.
Although it was scarcely nine o"clock, all the lights were extinguished, and the corridor, except for the dim glimmer which came from the side hall, was quite dark. The Queen of Navarre advanced boldly. When she had gone about a third of the distance she heard whispering which sounded mysterious and startling from an evident effort made to suppress it. It ceased almost instantly, as if by order from some superior, and silence was restored. The light, dim as it was, seemed to grow less. Marguerite walked on directly into the face of the danger if danger there was. To all appearances she was calm, although her clinched hands indicated a violent nervous tension. As she approached, the intense silence increased, while a shadow like that of a hand obscured the wavering and uncertain light.
At the point where the transverse hall crossed the main corridor a man sprang in front of the queen, uncovered a red candlestick, and cried out:
"Here he is!"
Marguerite stood face to face with her brother Charles. Behind him, a silken cord in hand, was the Duc d"Alencon. At the rear, in the darkness, stood two figures side by side, reflecting no light other than that of the drawn swords which they held in their hands. Marguerite saw everything at a glance. Making a supreme effort, she said smilingly to Charles:
"You mean, here _she_ is, sire!"
Charles recoiled. The others stood motionless.