"Oh, yes!" he whispered, "like the air I breathe, like the light I see!"
At this moment three knocks were heard at Marguerite's door.
"Do you hear, madame?" cried Gillonne, alarmed.
"Already!" exclaimed Marguerite.
"Shall I open?"
"Wait! perhaps it is the King of Navarre."
"Oh, madame!" cried La Mole, recalled to himself by these words, which the queen had spoken in such a low tone that she hoped Gillonne only had heard them, "on my knees I entreat you, let me depart. Yes, dead or alive! madame, have pity on me! Oh! you do not answer. I will tell you all, and then you will drive me away, I hope."
"Be silent," said Marguerite, who found an indescribable charm in the young man's reproaches; "be silent."
"Madame," replied La Mole, who did not find that anger he expected in the voice of the queen, "madame, I tell you again, everything is audible in this closet. Oh, do not make me perish by tortures more cruel than the executioner could inflict"—
"Silence! silence!" said Marguerite.