"Gillonne," cried Marguerite when the door was closed behind the last, "Gillonne, see that no one interrupts us."
"Yes," said the duchess, "for we have matters of grave importance to discuss."
Taking a chair she seated herself without ceremony in the best place near the fire and in the sunlight, sure that no one would interrupt the pleasant intimacy between herself and the Queen of Navarre.
"Well," said Marguerite, with a smile, "what about our famous slaughterer?"
"My dear queen," said the duchess, "he is a mythological creature, upon my word. He is incomparable, so far as his mind is concerned, and never dries up. He makes witty remarks that would make a saint in her shrine die of laughing. In other respects he is the maddest heathen who ever walked in the skin of a Catholic! I dote on him! And you, what are you doing with your Apollo?"
"Alas!" said Marguerite with a sigh.
"Oh, how that 'alas!' frightens me, dear queen! Is the gentle La Mole too respectful or too sentimental? In that, I am forced to admit he would be exactly the opposite of his friend Coconnas."
"Oh, no, he has his moments," said Marguerite, "but this 'alas!' concerned only myself."
"What does it mean, then?"
"It means, dear duchess, that I am terribly afraid I am actually in love."