Part 170 (2/2)
Marguerite had never been so beautiful.
She looked at herself in a mirror.
”My brother is right,” said she; ”a human being is indeed a miserable creature.”
At that moment Gillonne returned.
”Madame,” said she, ”a man is asking for you.”
”For me?”
”Yes.”
”Who is he?”
”I do not know, but he is terrible to look at; the very sight of him makes me shudder.”
”Go and ask him his name,” said Marguerite, turning pale.
Gillonne withdrew, and returned in a few moments.
”He will not give his name, madame, but he begged me to give you this.”
Gillonne handed to Marguerite the reliquary she had given to La Mole the previous evening.
”Oh! bring him in, bring him in!” said the queen quickly, growing paler and more numb than before.
A heavy step shook the floor. The echo, indignant, no doubt, at having to repeat such a sound, moaned along the wainscoting. A man stood on the threshold.
”You are”--said the queen.
”He whom you met one day near Montfaucon, madame, and who in his tumbril brought back two wounded gentlemen to the Louvre.”
”Yes, yes, I know you. You are Maitre Caboche.”
”Executioner of the provosts.h.i.+p of Paris, madame.”
These were the only words Henriette had heard for an hour. She raised her pale face from her hands and looked at the man with her sapphire eyes, from which a double flame seemed to dart.
”And you come”--said Marguerite, trembling.
”To remind you of your promise to the younger of the two gentlemen, who charged me to give you this reliquary. You remember the promise, madame?”
”Yes, yes,” exclaimed the queen, ”and never has a n.o.ble soul had more satisfaction than his shall have; but where is”--
”At my house with the body.”
”At your house? Why did you not bring it?”
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