going by, stopped.

"Where is Henry of Navarre?"

"Faith," he replied, in a loud voice, "I believe he is somewhere in the
city with the Messieurs d'Alencon and de Conde."

And then he added, in a tone so low that the queen alone could hear:

"Your majesty, if you would see him,--to be in whose place I would give
my life,--go to the king's armory."

"Thanks, Tavannes, thanks!" said Marguerite, who, of all that Tavannes
had said, had heard only the chief direction; "thank you, I will go
there."

And she went on her way, murmuring:

"Oh, after all I promised him--after the way in which he behaved to me
when that ingrate, Henry de Guise, was concealed in the closet--I cannot
let him perish!"

And she knocked at the door of the King's apartments; but they were
encompassed within by two companies of guards.

"No one is admitted to the King," said the officer, coming forward.

"But I"--said Marguerite.

"The order is general."

"I, the Queen of Navarre!--I, his sister!"

"My orders admit of no exception, madame; I pray you to pardon me."

And the officer closed the door.

"Oh, he is lost!" exclaimed Marguerite, alarmed at the sight of all
those sinister faces, which even if they did not breathe vengeance,
expressed sternness of purpose. "Yes, yes! I comprehend all. I have been
used as a bait. I am the snare which has entrapped the Huguenots; but I
will enter, if I am killed in the attempt!"

And Marguerite ran like a mad creature through the corridors and
galleries, when suddenly, as she passed by a small door, she heard a
sweet song, almost melancholy, so monotonous it was. It was a
Calvinistic psalm, sung by a trembling voice in the next room.

"My brother the king's nurse--the good Madelon--she is there!" exclaimed
Marguerite. "God of the Christians, aid me now!"

And, full of hope, Marguerite knocked at the little door.

* * * * *

Soon after the counsel which Marguerite had conveyed to him, after his
conversation with Rene, and after leaving the queen mother's chamber, in
spite of the efforts of the poor little Phoebe,--who like a good
genius tried to detain him,--Henry of Navarre had met several Catholic
gentlemen, who, under a pretext of doing him honor, had escorted him to
his apartments, where a score of Huguenots awaited him, who had rallied
round the young prince, and, having once rallied, would not leave
him--so strongly, for some hours, had the presentiment o