"When?"
"To-morrow."
"Oh, poor little friend! and is it necessary?"
"Absolutely."
"Mordi! as an acquaintance of mine says, this is very sad."
"And so you know some one who says mordi?" asked Marguerite, with a smile.
"Yes."
"And who is this some one?"
"You keep asking me questions when I am talking to you. Finish and I will begin."
"In two words, it is this: The King of Navarre is in love, and not with me; I am not in love, but I do not want him, yet we must both of us change, or seem to change, between now and to-morrow."