"Madame," said De Mouy, "might I venture to remark to your majesty that if the King of Navarre sees me at this hour and in this costume in the Louvre, I am lost?"
Marguerite seized De Mouy and pushed him towards the famous cabinet.
"Step in here, monsieur," said she; "you will be as safe and as well protected as if you were in your own house; I give you my word of honor."
De Mouy entered hastily. Scarcely was the door closed when Henry appeared.
This time Marguerite had no anxiety to hide—she was merely gloomy, and love was far from her thoughts.
As to Henry, he entered with that mistrust which in the most dangerous moments caused him to notice the smallest details; whatever the circumstances, Henry was an acute observer. Therefore he at once saw the cloud on Marguerite's brow.
"You are busy, madame?" said he.
"I? Why, yes, sire, I was dreaming."
"You do well, madame. Dreaming is becoming to you. I too was dreaming; but contrary to you who seek solitude, I have come on purpose to share my dreams, with you." Marguerite gave the king a gesture of welcome, and indicating an armchair to him, seated herself on a chair of sculptured ebony, as delicate and as strong as steel. There was an instant's silence; then Henry broke it.
"I remembered, madame," said he, "that my dreams as to the future corresponded with yours in so far as although separated as husband and wife, nevertheless we both desire to unite our fortune."