w crying unrestrainedly, he went quietly
out of the hut and left her to herself; glad that tears had come to
her relief, for the first time.

An hour later the door opened behind him, and Claire called him in.

"I am better now," she said, "I have been able to cry. It seemed
that my heart was frozen, and I was like one in a terrible
nightmare. Now I know that it is all true, and that my dear father
is dead.

"As for Monsieur de Pascal, I am sorry that a brave soldier has
been killed; but that is all. You know that I received him, as my
affianced husband, simply in obedience to my father's commands; and
that my heart had no part in it. God has broken the tie, and for
that, even in this time of sorrow, I cannot but feel relief."

At this moment there was a knock at the door. Then the latch was
lifted, and Pierre entered.

"What is the news, Pierre?"

"It is bad, sir. The king has, in truth, put himself at the head of
the massacre; and even in the Louvre, itself, several Huguenot
gentlemen have been slain, though I could not learn their names. It
is said that some of them were slain in the presence of the young
Queen of Navarre, in spite of her entreaties and cries. The young
king and his cousin Conde are close prisoners; and it is said that
they, too, will be slain, unless they embrace the Catholic faith.

"The massacre has spread to all parts of the town, and the
Huguenots are everywhere being dragged from their homes and killed,
together with their wives and children. It is said that the bodies
of Coligny, and other Huguenot leaders, have been taken to the
Louvre; and that the king and the queen mother and the ladies, as
well as the gentlemen of the court, have been down to view them and
make a jest of them.

"Truly, sir, Paris seems to have gone mad. It is said that orders
have been sent, to all parts of France, to exterminate the
Huguenots."

Philip made a sign to Pierre to leave the hut.

"This is terrible news," he said to Claire, "and it is now clear
that the Louvre will afford you no protection. In these days, no
more mercy is shown to women than to men; and at best, or at worst,
you could but save your life by renouncing your faith."

"I had already decided," she said quietly, "that I would not go to
the Louvre. The death of Monsieur de Pascal has altered everything.
As his affianced wife, with the consent of my father, the king
would hardly have interfered to have forced me into another
marriage;