“That comes very apropos, just as we were speaking of the crown of Poland.”

Marie, who was listening, could not hear this, and said to Madame de Guemenee, who was at her side: 

“Is Monsieur de Chabot, then, King of Poland?”

The Queen heard that, and was delighted at this touch of pride.  In order to develop its germ, she affected an approving attention to the conversation that ensued.

The Princesse de Guemenee exclaimed: 

“Can you conceive such a marriage?  We really can’t get it out of our heads.  This same Mademoiselle de Rohan, whom we have seen so haughty, after having refused the Comte de Soissons, the Duc de Weimar, and the Duc de Nemours, to marry Monsieur de Chabot, a simple gentleman!  ’Tis really a sad pity!  What are we coming to?  ’Tis impossible to say what it will all end in.”

“What! can it be true?  Love at court! a real love affair!  Can it be believed?”

All this time the Queen continued opening and shutting and playing with the new crown.

“Diamonds suit only black hair,” she said.  “Let us see.  Let me put it on you, Marie.  Why, it suits her to admiration!”

“One would suppose it had been made for Madame la Princesse,” said the Cardinal.

“I would give the last drop of my blood for it to remain on that brow,” said the Prince-Palatine.

Marie, through the tears that were still on her cheek, gave an infantine and involuntary smile, like a ray of sunshine through rain.  Then, suddenly blushing deeply, she hastily took refuge in her apartments.

All present laughed.  The Queen followed her with her eyes, smiled, presented her hand for the Polish ambassador to kiss, and retired to write a letter.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE WORK

One night, before Perpignan, a very unusual event took place.  It was ten o’clock; and all were asleep.  The slow and almost suspended operations of the siege had rendered the camp and the town inactive.  The Spaniards troubled themselves little about the French, all communication toward Catalonia being open as in time of peace; and in the French army men’s minds were agitated with that secret anxiety which precedes great events.

Yet all was calm; no sound was heard but that of the measured tread of the sentries.  Nothing was seen in the dark night but the red light of the matches of their guns, always smoking, when suddenly the trumpets of the musketeers, of the light-horse, and of the men-at-arms sounded almost simultaneously, “boot and saddle,” and “to horse.”  All the sentinels cried to arms; and the sergeants, with flambeaux, went from tent to tent, along pike in their hands, to waken the soldiers, range them in lines, and count them.  Some files marched in gloomy silence along the streets of the camp, and took their position in battle array.  The sound of the mounted squadrons announced that the heavy cavalry were making the same dispositions.  After half an hour of movement the noise ceased, the torches were extinguished, and all again became calm, but the army was on foot.