"No, Marguerite, thank you, I am going to bed immediately." Marie added, after a moment's reflection: "My shutters are closed, are they not?"
"Yes, madame."
"And those of my son's chamber also?"
"Yes, madame."
"Good night, Marguerite, come to me to-morrow at the break of day."
"Madame has need of nothing else?"
"No, thank you."
"Good night, madame."
Marguerite went out.
Marie locked her door, went to see if her shutters were closed, and slowly undressed, a prey to the most poignant anxiety, thinking of the various events of the evening, the mysterious words uttered by the bailiff, Bridou on the subject of Frederick, and especially of those words which passed between Jacques and his friend, which Marguerite had overheard: