ps be the least of my dangers, of which,
however, you think little."

The coolness of Anne of Austria, and this last severe observation,
however, restored a little calm to this beautiful personage, who rose
in confusion, and perceiving the disordered state of her toilet, went to
repair it as she best could in a closet near by.

"Dona Stefania," said the Queen to one of her women, the only Spaniard
whom she had retained, "go seek the captain of the guards. It is time
that I should see men at last, and hear something reasonable."

She said this in Spanish, and the mystery of this order, spoken in
a tongue which the ladies did not understand, restored those in the
chamber to their senses.

The waiting-woman was telling her beads, but she rose from the corner
of the alcove in which she had sought refuge, and hastened to obey her
mistress.

The signs of revolt and the evidences of terror became meantime more
distinct. In the great court of the Louvre was heard the trampling of
the horses of the guards, the orders of the chiefs, the rolling of the
Queen's carriages, which were being prepared, should it be necessary to
fly. The rattling of the iron chains dragged along the pavement to form
barricades in case of an attack, hurried steps in the corridor, the
clash of arms, the confused cries of the people, which rose and fell,
went and came again, like the noise of the waves and the winds. The door
once more opened, and this time it was to admit a very charming person.

"I expected you, dear Marie," said the Queen, extending her arms to the
Duchesse de Mantua. "You have been more courageous than any of us; you
are attired fit to be seen by all the court."

"I was not in bed, fortunately," replied the young Princesse de Gonzaga,
casting down her eyes. "I saw all these people from the windows. O
Madame, Madame, fly! I implore you to escape by the secret stairway, and
let us remain in your place. They might take one of us for the Queen."
And she added, with tears, "I have heard cries of death. Fly, Madame! I
have no throne to lose. You are the daughter, the wife, and the mother
of kings. Save yourself, and leave us here!"

"You have more to lose than I, 'm'amaie', in beauty, youth, and, I hope,
in happiness," said the Queen, with a gracious smile, giving the Duchess
her beautiful hands to kiss. "Remain in my alcove and welcome; but we
will both remain there. The only service I accept from you, my sweet
child, is to bring t