CHAPTER X.
DEATH, MASS, OR THE BASTILLE.
Marguerite, as we have said, had shut the door and returned to her chamber. But as she entered, panting, she saw Gillonne, who, terror-struck, was leaning against the door of the closet, staring at the traces of blood on the bed, the furniture, and the carpet.
"Ah! madame!" she cried when she saw the queen. "Oh! madame! tell me, is he dead?"
"Silence!" said Marguerite in that tone of voice which gives some indication of the importance of the command.
Gillonne was silent.
Marguerite then took from her purse a tiny gilded key, opened the closet door, and showed the young man to the servant. La Mole had succeeded in getting to his feet and making his way to the window. A small poniard, such as women at that time were in the habit of carrying, was at hand, and when he heard the door opening he had seized it.
"Fear nothing, sir," said Marguerite; "for, on my soul, you are in safety!"
La Mole sank on his knees.
"Oh, madame," he cried, "you are more than a queen—you are a goddess!"