"And you!" exclaimed the duke, "do you not act much more treasonably to me in preferring a foreigner to your own brother?"
"Explain yourself, François! In what have I acted treasonably to you?"
"You yesterday begged the life of the King of Navarre from King Charles."
"Well?" said Marguerite, with pretended innocence.
The duke rose hastily, paced round the chamber twice or thrice with a bewildered air, then came back and took Marguerite's hand.
It was cold and unresponsive.
"Good-by, sister!" he said at last. "You will not understand me; do not, therefore, complain of whatever misfortunes may happen to you."
Marguerite grew pale, but remained motionless in her place. She saw the Duc d'Alençon go away, without making any attempt to detain him; but he had scarcely more than disappeared down the corridor when he returned.
"Listen, Marguerite," he said, "I had forgotten to tell you one thing; that is, that by this time to-morrow the King of Navarre will be dead."
Marguerite uttered a cry, for the idea that she was the instrument of assassination caused in her a terror she could not subdue.