She turned to Navarre. That insolent young man was more likely to see reason; already she noticed the shrewd look on his face. He had grasped her intentions. Here is a way out of trouble, said Navarre's twinkling eyes; let us seize it!

'False reports have been circulated about you,' said Catherine.

Navarre bowed. 'Yes, Madame. False reports have been circulated about us.'

'I see that you at least are not without sense, Monsieur,' said Catherine, 'and for that I am thankful. I have with me a document, and I wish you both to put your names to it. It disavows your connexion with any plot, if plot there was. You will sign it here. Come, my son, you also.'

Navarre took the document and studied it.

'We should sign,' he said to Alencon at length, 'for if a plot fails, the wiser course is to disown it.'

Margot was suffering acute anxiety.

The realization of what was happening had been the more terrible because it had come upon her suddenly. The rumours of the plot which Alencon and Navarre had made against the crown had spread too much to be ignored, and there had had to be an inquiry. Navarre had come out of this with ease, thanks to the clever defence which his wife had prepared for him. All Margot's frivolity could be banished on occasions, disclosing the bright intelligence which it obscured. But for her intense preoccupation with her lovers, she would have made as shrewd a statesman as most at court. But always she was governed by her emotions; and when she had penned that most lucid document-she was always most clever when her pen was in her hands-she had done so, not for love of her husband, whom she knew her mother would not at this time wish to see out of the way, but of the handsome Count with whom she was in love.

Navarre and Alencon had been cleared, but were still kept in semi-confinement. Margot had therefore expected the immediate release of her lover.

But this had not happened; and to her horror she had learned that La Mole and Coconnas were to be tried on another charge. What other charge, Margot could not imagine; but she was very quickly to discover, for the whole court was soon ringing with the news. La Mole and Coconnas were accused of conspiring against the life of the King.

They were tried and condemned to death. They had, it was declared, made a waxen image of him which they had pierced to the heart with a red-hot pin; and all knew that this meant that they had employed the Devil's aid to bring about Charles' death. This was treason of the worst kind.

It had been impossible to keep the maker of the image out of the case, and Cosmo Ruggieri, primed by Catherine, when arrested admitted that he had made the image for La Mole and Coconnas. He said that it was an image of the King.

'They came to me,' he said, 'and begged me to make an image of a royal person.'

'And you guessed who this royal person was intended to be?'

Cosmo bowed assent.

'Did you ask for what purpose the image was made?' asked his judges.

Cosmo said that he had not asked.

'You must have guessed that it was for some evil purpose since you supplied also the pins with which to pierce the heart.'

La Mole and Coconnas swore that the image did not represent the King, but a lady of whom the former had become enamoured.

'A lady in royal cloak and crown! Come, sir, you must think that we are a little foolish. It is clearly an effigy of His Majesty.'

'It is the image of the lady whom I love, and whom I wished to win,' insisted La Mole.

'The name of the lady?'

Catherine had been right when she had guessed it would be safe for such a question to be asked. La Mole, with his ideas of chivalry and gallantry, would never allow scandal to touch his mistress.

He sighed and said it was a lady whom he had met when he was travelling in another country.

'What country? And the name of the lady . . . this royal lady?'

But he would not mention her name. He was stubborn and said his judges-as Catherine had known they would-his inability to answer betrayed his guilt. He was, therefore, with his accomplice Coconnas, sentenced to be taken from his prison to the Place de Greve, there to die the traitor's death of decapitation; while for his part in the affair Cosmo Ruggieri was condemned to the galleys for life.

Margot appealed to the King. She flung herself on her knees before him.

'Sire, I beg of you to listen to me. The Comte de la Mole is being wrongly accused. I can tell you all you wish to know about that image. Oh, Sire, dearest brother, it was not meant to be of you, but of myself.'

The King was in the throes of that hysteria which always resulted from fear of assassination. He did not trust his sister. He knew that La Mole had been her lover; and he knew that previously she had worked for Henry of Guise against himself. Now he believed that her only thought was to save her lover, and that she cared not how many lies she told in order to do so.

He demanded that she leave him before he put her under arrest. He shouted that he did not trust her.

In desperation, Margot went to her mother. 'You know the truth of this. You must. You must help me.'

Catherine smiled sadly. 'If I could help you, my daughter, I would do so. But you know how deeply enamoured you become of certain men. You do not see in them any villainy while you desire their persons. It was thus with Monsieur de Guise. Do you remember?' Catherine laughed. 'Well, so it is with Monsieur de la Mole. You do not consider the important fact that these men are traitors, for all that matters to you is that their beauty pleases you.'

'La Mole is not a traitor.'

'What! Is not a man a traitor who conspires against the life of his King?'

'He did not. The waxen image was of me. I swear it. Como Ruggieri knew it was of me. Why did he lie?' Margot looked at her mother with terrible suspicion. She said softly: 'He is a great favourite of yours, this Ruggieri. It was a stupid pretence, that trial. You allowed Ruggieri to be sentenced, yet you assured him that he would never see the galleys as a slave. You have had him pardoned; you have sent him back to his brother to work for you. You could save those two men as you saved the liar Ruggieri.'

'If I could be convinced of their innocence . . .'

'Do not pretend to me! You know they are innocent! Involved in a plot with my husband and brother they may have been. But they are my brother's men. How could they help being involved if they were chosen to obey certain orders? But you know that they are innocent of this other charge of conspiring against the life of the King.'

'They did not seem so at their trial, alas! La Mole said the image was of a lady, and he would not give her name. That was a little stupid of him.'

'He is a chivalrous fool! As if I cared whether he mentioned my name! What is my reputation compared with his life!'

'You shock me, daughter. Your reputation as Daughter of France and Queen of Navarre is of the utmost importance. Moreover, you should choose less chivalrous lovers.'

'It is true then that you know the image was of myself?'

Catherine lifted her shoulders. 'We must abide by the judges' verdict, my dear.'

When Margot had gone, Catherine summoned Madalenna.

'See that the Queen of Navarre is closely watched,' she told Madalenna. 'See that all her letters are brought to me . . . without fail . . . let nothing pass. See that all her actions are reported the instant they occur.'

Margot took Henriette to her ruelle and there they wept together.

'But it is no use weeping, Henriette,' cried Margot. 'We must do something. I will not stand by and let this terrible thing happen to our darlings.'

'But, Margot, what can we do?'

'I have thought of something we might try.'

'Margot! What is this?'

'You know how we ride about unchallenged. The guards never look into my coach when they recognize the royal arms it bears. Henriette, I believe we could do this. We will dress ourselves in two gowns and two cloaks apiece; and masked, we will ride in my coach to Vincennes.'

'Yes?' cried Henriette. 'Yes?'

'I will first of all make sure that I can bribe the jailers.' Margot's eyes began to sparkle in spite of her tears. This was an adventure such as she loved. 'That should not be difficult. I think I can do it. And then we shall visit our lovers. You shall go to the dungeon of Annibale and I to that of Boniface. When we are there we will, with all speed, take off our top cloaks and one of our dresses. La Mole shall get into mine and Coconnas into yours.'

Henriette said: 'They will not fit very well.'

'We will find the most voluminous in our wardrobes. We have something suitable, I am sure. They shall put the cloaks right over their heads; and they shall wear the masks which we shall take for them. And then quickly, and with the utmost assurance, we shall simply walk out of the dungeons, out of the castle, to the coach. It should be easy because it will be thought that the men are women we have taken with us. We will all ride away . . . out of Paris . . . and we shall be gone before they know what has happened. We must make sure of our jailers. The rest will be easy, providing we are calm.'

'I am eager to begin,' said Henriette nervously. 'I cannot wait.'

'You must curb your impatience. There must be no carelessness. First we have to talk to the jailers. We shall have to offer a large bribe, as it will be necessary for them to escape afterwards.'

'A bribe?' said Henriette. 'How can we come by as much money as will be necessary?'

'We have our jewels. What are a few diamonds and emeralds compared with the lives of our beloved!'

'You are right,' said Henriette.

'Perhaps tomorrow,' said Margot. 'Yes, we will do it tomorrow; and this: afternoon I will ride to Vincennes in my coach and you will come with me. You will warn Coconnas of our plan while I whisper it to La Mole. It will be a rehearsal for our great adventure. But first I will see the jailers, and if they are the men I think they may be, it will be easy. Henriette, we must succeed tomorrow.'

'If we do not,' said Henriette, 'I shall die of a broken heart.'

Inside the coach which rumbled along the road to Vincennes sat the two young women, tense and nervous. Henriette pulled her cloaks about her and shivered; she felt in the bag she was carrying for the mask which would hide the features of her lover.

Margot also trembled with excitement.

'If only we succeed!' murmured Henriette for the sixth time through her chattering teeth.

'Don't say "If", Henriette. We shall. We must. You must look distrait or it will be known as soon as we enter the castle that we are planning something of this sort. All is arranged. The horses stand ready saddled for the jailers. You have your jewels; I have mine. It is quite simple. I do not think this will be the first time men have walked out of their prisons in the dress of women. In less than an hour we shall be on our way.' Margot talked continually, for she found it stemmed her own nervousness to talk. 'Now, Henriette, there must be no delay in the dungeon. Immediately the door has closed on you, you must remove your cloak and top dress. It must not take more than a few minutes for you and Coconnas to be ready. We will meet outside the dungeons and walk quickly out of the castle. Oh, do not be foolish! Of course we shall do it. It is so simple.'

The coach had drawn up.

'Now, Henriette, pull yourself together. Look sad. Remember you are going to see your lover for the last time . . . so they think . . . for tomorrow he is to be executed. Think how you would be feeling if it were not for our plan . . . and look like that. Look at me. Like this . . . you see? I declare I want to laugh aloud when I think how we are going to fool them all. Come, Henriette. Ready? All we need is courage and calm.'

The coachman held open the door for them. His face was grave. He had his orders: two ladies were leaving the coach; four would return, and no sooner were they inside than he was to gallop with all speed to a certain inn where fresh horses were waiting.

It was all carefully planned; and in the service of the Queen of Navarre one was called upon to do strange things.

It seemed very cold within the thick stone walls of the castle. The guards saluted the Queen and her friend with sombre gallantry. They knew of their relationship with the prisoners in the dungeons below, and in their romantic chivalry they shed a tear for the sorrowing ladies. There were many of them who would have been ready to risk punishment in order to allow the beautiful Queen and Duchess to say a last farewell to their condemned lovers. Gallic sympathy for all lovers showed itself in their eyes as they watched the heartbroken and charming ladies.

The door of the cell was opened by a silent jailer, who looked sadly at Margot. How frightened they all are! she thought. All except myself.

And as she stepped into the cell she felt nothing but the joy of the adventure and the sure hope of success; she felt that the suspense and misery of the last weeks were almost worthwhile, since through them she could enjoy this supreme moment, this intense pleasure of offering his life to her lover.

The door shut behind her.

'My darling,' whispered Margot. 'My Hyacinth . . .'

Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light, and she could see what looked like a bundle on the floor.

'Where are you? Where are you?' she cried in alarm.

The bundle seemed to stir slightly. She went to it and knelt down.

'My love . . . my darling . . .' she muttered; and she drew back the rough blanket. There he lay, his face deathlike, his black curls damp on his forehead.

Margot cried in anguish: 'What ails you? What has happened?'

In silence he gazed at her.

'Oh, God!' she whispered. 'Blood . . . blood on the floor on the blanket . . . blood everywhere . . . his blood . . .'

With the utmost gentleness she lifted the blanket further; she cried out as she saw those broken bleeding legs and feet.

She understood. They had applied the Torture of the Boot; they had broken his beautiful limbs and he would never walk again. Her magnificent plan to save him had been foiled.

'Oh, my darling,' she cried, 'what can I do? What can I do to help you!'

He was now aware of her, for she saw the faint smile on his lips.

He was murmuring something and she had to bend over him to catch his words. 'You came . . .' he said. 'Dearest . . . that will suffice. It is all. I ask . . . You did not forget . . .'

She put her face against his and he tried to raise a hand to touch her, but the effort brought an agonized groan to his lips and the sweat to his forehead.

'You must not move,' she said. 'Oh, my darling, what can I do? Why did I come too late?'

Again he spoke. 'You came . . . That . . . is enough.' The jailer came silently into the cell.

'Madame, you must go. Oh, Madame, most deeply I regret. The order came, Madame, and there was nothing I could do to prevent its being carried out. There was nothing I could do . . . nothing She nodded. 'The order came,' she repeated; and she seemed to see her mother's smiling face. 'I understand,' she said. 'I understand.'

Henriette was waiting in the corridor; she was holding a kerchief to her eyes.

'Annibale also?' murmured Margot.

Henriette nodded.

And together they walked out to the coach. There was no need to act the part of two broken-hearted women who had said a last farewell to their lovers.

Before the Hotel de Ville in the Place de Greve the crowd had assembled to see the execution of the two men who had conspired against the life of the King. This execution had attracted a good deal of attention because it was said that the two men who were to die had been great lovers-one the lover of no less a person than the Queen of Navarre, the other of another lady of quality, the Duchess of Nevers.

The crowd grumbled. It was the wicked Queen Mother who was responsible. All the ills and sorrows of France came through her. There had been books written about her. Some said she was jealous of her daughter, and that was why she had cruelly tortured Margot's lover and had decided to destroy him. Nothing too bad could be said about the Queen Mother. At all public ceremonies other emotions gave way to hatred of her.

'He made a waxen image of the King . .

'Ah! It is time he was dead, that madman.'

'Hush! You know not who listens. And what if he dies? Who follows? Our elegant gentleman from Poland? Little Alencon? They are a swarm of vipers.'

The sounds of tumbril wheels were heard and for a while silence descended upon the crowd.