"Oh! the anagram from this name, sire," said Henry, "is so easy that there is no great merit in finding it."
"Ah! ah! it is already found," said Charles. "You see—Marie."
Henry drew his tablets from the pocket of his doublet, tore out a paper, and below the name Marie Touchet wrote Je charme tout. Then he handed the paper to the young woman.
"Truly," she cried, "it is impossible!"
"What has he found?" asked Charles.
"Sire, I dare not repeat it."
"Sire," said Henry, "in the name Marie Touchet there is, letter for letter, by changing the 'i' into a 'j,' as is often done, Je charme tout." (I charm all.)
"Yes," exclaimed Charles, "letter for letter. I want this to be your motto, Marie, do you hear? Never was one better deserved. Thanks, Henriot. Marie, I will give it to you written in diamonds."
The supper over, two o'clock struck from Notre-Dame.
"Now," said Charles, "in return for this compliment, Marie, you will give the king an armchair, in which he can sleep until daybreak; but let it be some distance from us, because he snores frightfully. Then if you waken before I do, you will rouse me, for at six o'clock we have to be at the Bastille. Good-night, Henriot. Make yourself as comfortable as possible. But," he added, approaching the King of Navarre and laying his hand on his shoulder, "for your life, Henry,—do you hear? for your life,—do not leave here without me, especially to return to the Louvre."