"And you will not prevent his death?" she said; "you will not save your best and most faithful ally?"
"Since yesterday the King of Navarre is no longer my ally."
"Who is, pray?"
"Monsieur de Guise. By destroying the Huguenots, Monsieur de Guise has become the king of the Catholics."
"And does a son of Henry II. recognize a duke of Lorraine as his king?"
"You are in a bad frame of mind, Marguerite, and you do not understand anything."
"I confess that I try in vain to read your thoughts."
"Sister, you are of as good a house as the Princesse de Porcian; De Guise is no more immortal than the King of Navarre. Now, then, Marguerite, suppose three things, three possibilities: first, suppose monsieur is chosen King of Poland; the second, that you loved me as I love you; well, I am King of France, and you are—queen of the Catholics."
Marguerite hid her face in her hands, overwhelmed at the depth of the views of this youth, whom no one at court thought possessed of even common understanding.
"But," she asked after a moment's silence, "I hope you are not jealous of Monsieur le Duc de Guise as you were of the King of Navarre!"