red Margaret to herself. "But
yes--her tears--her agony! Oh! it is true! And he must love her well,
that she should thus, at the hazard of her life"----

The Queen-mother smiled with satisfaction, as she saw that mistrust had
entered Margaret's mind; but to make her purpose sure, she remained
long, to comfort and console her daughter, as she said, with words of
false sympathy, and hypocritical advice.

When at last she saw Margaret thus convinced of La Mole's utter
unworthiness, and knew that injured pride and offended dignity had
usurped in her heart the place, where, so shortly before, love alone had
throned, Catherine de Medicis rose and retired.

Margaret did not weep. She was one lightly moved by the more violent as
the tenderer feelings of a woman's heart, and she was proud. She sat
still, unmoved, with her hands clenched before her, when a slight
movement in the apartment startled her. Upon raising her head she saw
Jocelyne before her.

"You here, my mistress?" she exclaimed in anger.

"They would have bid me begone," said Jocelyne timidly; "but I concealed
myself; and when her majesty the Queen-mother had gone forth, I returned
unperceived."

"And you again dare to affront my presence?" said Margaret rising. "This
is unheard of insolence."

"Alas, madam!" replied Jocelyne trembling, "I did but seek a last
assurance that you would save him."

"Away with you, mistress," continued the princess, her eyes flashing
with anger. "La Mole is but a traitor, as are men all. Let him meet his
deserts. But I wonder at myself that I should bandy words with you. Go
to your lover, girl, and comfort him as best you may."

"My lover! he!" murmured Jocelyne; "alas! he never loved me!"

Overwhelmed with the rude reception she had so unexpectedly received
from the princess, who, but a short time before, had listened to her
with so much eager interest, the poor girl moved with unsteady step
towards the door.

"He loved you not, say you?" burst forth Margaret as to recall her.
"Speak! He loved you not--this--young Count?"

"Madam," said Jocelyne, turning her head, but with downcast eyes, "in
this dreadful moment, when he lies a prisoner, his life in danger, I can
avow, what I could scarcely dare avow even to myself, that I loved him
with a passionate and unrequited love. I loved him with an eager and
devoted affection, although his heart was not mine--poor simple
uncourtly girl as I am--although it was another's. He too