'Poor Navarre! He will be sad this night. You have heard that he has been playing tricks which we shall have to punish. think it might be a charming idea if you enlivened his captivity this night.'

Charlotte grew pale. 'Madame . . . I . . .'

'What! Another engagement! I promise you you need have no fear. I will see that the Baton, your husband, is kept busy and that he asks no embarrassing questions.'

'Madame,' faltered Charlotte, 'could I not? . . .'

Catherine burst out laughing. 'What! An assignation with a gentleman not your husband!'

Charlotte was silent.

'Tell me, Charlotte, is it Monsieur de Guise? He is so charming, and from the way in which he is pursued by you women it appears he must be an adequate lover. But I have always made you understand, have I not, that duty comes before pleasure?'

'Yes, Madame.'

'Well, tonight you must make it your duty to enliven the poor captive King of Navarre. Now . . . no more. I have spoken. You may go, Charlotte.'

When Charlotte was at the door, Catherine called her back. 'And come to me tomorrow, Charlotte. I shall have further instructions for you then.'

Charlotte ran along to her own apartments, and when she reached her bedchamber she drew her curtains about her bed, upon which she lay down and began to weep bitterly. For the first time in her life she was disgusted with the Escadron and wished to escape from it. She lay weeping for some time, lost in her wretched thoughts until, uncannily conscious that she was being watched, she turned her head and shrank in startled horror from the parted bed-curtains. Catherine stood there, looking at her, and her gaze seemed diabolical; but when she spoke her voice was almost tender and belied the cruel glitter of her eyes. 'You should not grieve, Charlotte. Monsieur de Guise must learn to understand as readily as does Monsieur de Sauves. And by night one man is very like another-so they tell me.'

The curtains were drawn together again, and Catherine went away as silently as she had come.

Margot looked down at her husband, who was lying sprawled across his bed. The door was locked and outside it were members of the King's Guard. Margot felt angry with him. He looked so inelegant lying there; he had no grace; his hair, which looked none too clean, would doubtless stain that beautiful cushion.

'You should not be allowed to use beautiful things,' she told him. 'You should live in a stable.'

'Stables can be very comfortable,' he said reflectively, 'and a horse is often a more amiable companion than a wife.'

She lifted her head haughtily. 'Not only are you coarse and crude-that I accept; that I forgive-but your folly is beyond forgiveness.'

'I was certainly a fool not to realize I had a spying wife.'

'It was for your own good, you fool, that I stopped your folly.'

'You call it folly because it failed. If it had succeeded it would have been very clever. And but for you, it would not have failed. Ventre de biche! I have a mind to thrash you for this.'

'You would find yourself in a less comfortable prison if you were as foolish as that.'

'Have no fear. I am far too lazy. To thrash such a spitfire as you, would take a good deal of energy, and I am not inclined to spend mine on you.'

'Pray keep your coarse manners for your peasant women.'

'I will, if you will allow me to. Why do you not take yourself off to a more comfortable apartment?'

'Because I wish to talk to you.'

'I am expecting a visitor.'

'A wife of one of the gardeners, or one of the kitchen wenches?'

'Guess again,' he said.

'I am not inclined to waste my energy on that! Gardener's wife or kitchen woman, it matters not to me. I am not interested in your crude amours. What angers me is that you should have entered into such a plot as this and told me nothing of it.'

'It did not concern you.'

'It concerns Navarre, of which I am Queen.'

'Only as long as I allow you to be.'

'How dare you!'

'Madame, you astonish me. You play the spy; you place your husband and his kingdom in jeopardy, and then you come here and tell me that my kingdom is yours.'

'I had thought that we two had decided to be allies.'

'We had, but you show yourself to be a very doubtful ally.'

'And you plot such things without consulting me!'

'If I had been successful, I should have come back for you. And how can you talk of our being allies when you so callously betray me?'

'You are indolent as well as foolish. You do not seem to know what forces would be brought into action against you.'

'You overrate Monsieur de Guise,' said Navarre. 'We who would pit ourselves against him and his Catholics do not hold him in the same reverence as you do. You involve yourself too deeply in your love affairs, my dear. You look upon your lover as a god. He is but a man. Why, is it not for that very reason that you love him? You will never be happy in love until you learn to love as I do. I have had a hundred love affairs and never a pang of remorse or wretchedness on account of any of them. Yet you . . . you are all passion, all hate, all desire. When we have more leisure you and I must compare experiences, but tonight I am expecting a visitor.'

'You are a provincial boor,' she cried, 'and as for discussing my love affairs with you, I would as soon discuss them with a stable boy.'

'Or a kitchen wench, or a gardener's wife?' he taunted.

She went to him and, taking his stiff hair in her hands, shook him angrily. He was almost apoplectic with laughter, and to her annoyance she found herself laughing with him.

'There, you see,' he said, 'we cannot be bad friends. You betray me and I forgive you. Why, I even forgive you for spoiling the set of my hair which, although not elegant like that of your brothers, or softly curling like that of one whom it would be provincial, boorish, coarse and crude to mention at this point . . .'

She gave him a stinging blow on his cheek, which delighted him.

'Oh, Margot,' he cried, catching her by the arms suddenly and holding her so tightly that she cried out, 'I almost wish that I had not this visitor coming to me tonight, for I find you extremely attractive in this fighting mood.'

He released her and she stood up, for she had heard a movement in his closet.

'Who is there?' she asked.

'No one,' he answered; and turning to look at him she believed that he was as surprised and startled by that sound as she was. There followed immediately a light tap on the door of the closet.

'May I come in?' said a voice which both of them recognized.

'This is my visitor,' said Navarre. 'I did not expect her to have secreted herself in my closet. She must have had a key to come in that way, no doubt from your mother. Come in!' he called.

Margot stepped back so that the curtains of the bed hid her.

Charlotte de Sauves walked to the bed. She was holding a key. 'I managed to acquire a key to the small chamber,' she said. 'It seemed better to come in that way.'

Navarre said: 'Her Majesty is most helpful, and so generous with her personal keys. But, my dear, it matters not how you come, as long as you come.'

Margot stepped out, and Charlotte stared at her in dismay.

'Do not be afraid of me, Madame de Sauves,' said Margot. 'I was just about to leave.'

Charlotte looked from the husband to the wife. 'I . . . I did not know that Your Majesty would be here . . . If I had . . .'

Margot waved a hand. 'You must obey the royal command, must you not?' she said; and she threw a contemptuous glance at Navarre, which implied that she despised him since, know- ing this woman was her mother's spy, he could yet receive her. 'I was just about to go,' she added. 'I wish you joy, Madame. A very goodnight to you both.'

'And a very goodnight to you, my dear wife,' said Navarre, smiling at her cynically. Margot walked out, aware that he scarcely waited for her to reach the door before pulling Charlotte down beside him.

Margot was angry. One did not expect a husband to be faith. ful; but one expected a certain show of good manners.

She was bored; the monotony of her life was more than she could endure. She decided that, for the want of something better to do, she would go and make her peace with her brother; for he, like her husband, would be annoyed with her, and lacking the humour of Navarre, would not be so inclined to find humour in the situation.

She went into his apartments, and the King's Guards made way for her. In an ante-chamber, a tall slim young man was sitting, and as Margot approached he leaped to his feet and bowed low.

Margot smiled at him charmingly, for she noticed immediately that he was an exceptionally handsome young man, and it was obvious from his expression that he was as impressed by her charms as she was by his. Indeed, this kind of adoration was just what Margot needed most at this moment. She was at once enchanted by this young man.

She studied him closely. He was, she guessed, in his mid-twenties, a few years older than herself; his hair was dark and he wore it long and curling; his eyes were a deep shade of blue, and Margot found the contrast of eyes and hair striking. His moustache could not hide the sensitive lips, and if his expression was one of melancholy, although somewhat relieved by his delight in looking at her, it was such a contrast to the crude boisterousness of the man she had just left, that it was enchanting. Bowing, he had placed a white hand on his velvet doublet which was a deep shade of blue that matched his eyes and was decorated with black jet.

'I do not know you, Monsieur?' she said.

His voice was low and melodious. 'There, Madame, I have the advantage of Your Majesty.'

'So you are in no doubt as to my identity?'

'Madame, who does not know the Queen of Navarre?' 'You must have seen me when I have not seen you.'

'Yes, Madame; and, having seen you, could never banish your image from my mind.'

Margot was excited. 'And, Monsieur, why should there be need for such banishment?'

His melancholy eyes, of such a startling blue, supplied the answer she expected, and his lips endorsed it. 'That, Madame, I could not tell you. I beg of you not to embarrass me by commanding me to answer.'

'I see you are in my brother's service. I should therefore have no power to command you.'

'Madame, any request of yours would be a command.'

She smiled. 'You are from Provence,' she said. 'I realize that, for you have the soft speech. But you have learned to flatter like a Parisian.'

'You are mistaken, Madame. There was no flattery.'

'What is your name?' asked Margot.

'La Mole, Madame.'

'La Mole? Just that . . . nothing more?'

'Count Boniface de la Mole, Madame, at your service.'

'You mean at the service of the Duke of Alencon?'

'If I could find some means of serving his sister, I should be completely happy.'

'Well, you may do so at once. I wish to see my brother.'

'He is engaged at the moment, Madame, and is likely to be for some hours.'

'It would seem that he is gallantly engaged.'

'That is so, Madame.'

'In that case I shall not disturb him. It would go ill with you if you interrupted him merely to tell him his sister wished to see him.'

'Madame,' he said, bowing and laying his hand on the hilt of his sword, 'if you were to command me, I would willingly face death.'

She laughed lightly. 'Nay, Monsieur le Comte, I would not have you face death. I think I should find you more amusing alive than dead.'

She extended her hand for him to kiss; he did this with a mingling of reverence and passion which delighted Margot. 'Adieu, Monsieur.'

'You will think me bold, Madame, but I will say what is in my heart. Au revoir, Madame. I shall live for our next meeting.'

Margot turned and left the chamber. She was smiling, for she had ceased to be bored.

Catherine summoned Charlotte de Sauves to her presence. 'Well, Charlotte, I trust Navarre pleased you?'

Charlotte was silent.

'You must not mind,' said Catherine softly, 'that I witnessed your grief yesterday. I thought how sad you looked when you left me, so I followed. Never try to lock your door against your Queen, Charlotte. It is useless. I do not like to see you looking so sad. I hope you were not sad when with Navarre. Poor man! He has waited so long. I should not have wished him to be disappointed.'

'Madame,' said Charlotte, 'I have done what you commanded.'

'That is well. I trust there was not too great a quarrel with Monsieur de Guise? However, it will do that young man good to learn that he is only about half as important as he imagines himself to be. You see, Charlotte, my dear, when you joined the Escadron, you agreed, did you not, to put aside all sentimentality. But let us not go into that. You have done well with Navarre. I do not wish your love affair with him to progress too rapidly. Navarre must not expect you to give all your spare time to him. There are others on whom you must bestow your smiles.'

Charlotte waited apprehensively.

'I was not referring to Monsieur de Guise. If you patch up your quarrel with him, he must be made to understand that he can only gladden your leisure hours. You have serious work to do, and this does not include dalliance with the charming Duke. No, Charlotte! For there is another who needs your attention. I refer to my little son-my youngest, poor little Alencon.'

'But, Madame, he has never looked my way.'

'Whose fault is that? None but your own. He is susceptible to female beauty. You have only to smile on him a little, to flatter him a good deal, and he will be your slave.'

'I am not sure, Madame. He is deeply enamoured of . . .'