THE SECOND MARRIAGE NIGHT.
The queen mother cast a marvellously rapid glance around her. The velvet slippers at the foot of the bed, Marguerite's clothes scattered over the chairs, the way she rubbed her eyes as if to drive away her sleepiness, all convinced Catharine that she had awakened her daughter.
Then she smiled as a woman does when she has succeeded in her plans, and drawing up an easy chair, she said:
"Let us sit down, Marguerite, and talk."
"Madame, I am listening."
"It is time," said Catharine, slowly shutting her eyes in the characteristic way of people who weigh each word or who deeply dissimulate, "it is time, my daughter, that you should know how ardently your brother and myself desire to see you happy."
This exordium for one who knew Catharine was alarming.
"What can she be about to say?" thought Marguerite.
"To be sure," continued La Florentine, "in giving you in marriage we fulfilled one of those acts of policy frequently required by important interests of those who govern; but I must confess, my poor child, that we had no expectation that the indifference manifested by the King of Navarre for one so young, so lovely, and so fascinating as yourself would be so obstinate."
Marguerite arose, and folding her robe de chambre around her, courtesied with ceremonious respect to her mother.