’It is too hard to deny thee aught to-night, sweetheart, but judge for thyself.  Think of the perils, and decide.’

Before Eustacie could answer, a rough voice came near, the King making noisy sport with the Count de Rochefoucauld and others.  He was louder and ruder than Berenger had ever yet seen him, almost giving the notion of intoxication; but neither he nor his brother Henry ever tasted wine, though both had a strange pleasure in being present at the orgies of their companions:  the King, it was generally said, from love of the self-forgetfulness of excitement—­ the Duke of Anjou, because his cool brain there collected men’s secrets to serve afterwards for his spiteful diversion.

Berenger would willingly have escaped notice, but his bright face and sunny hair always made him conspicuous, and the King suddenly strode up to him:  ’You here, sir?  I thought you would have managed your affairs so as to be gone long ago!’ then before Berenger could reply, ’However, since here you are, come along with me to my bedchamber!  We are to have a carouse there to-night that will ring through all Paris!  Yes, and shake Rochefoucauld out of his bed at midnight!  You will be one of us, Ribaumont?  I command it!’

And without waiting for reply he turned away with an arm round Rochefoucauld’s neck, and boisterously addressed another of the company, almost as wildly as if he were in the mood that Scots call ‘fey.’

‘Royalty seems determined to frustrate our plans,’ said Berenger, as soon as the King was out of hearing.

’But you will not go!  His comrades drink till—­oh! two, three in the morning.  We should never get away.’

’No, I must risk his displeasure.  We shall soon be beyond his reach.  But at least I may make his invitation a reason for remaining in the Louvre.  People are departing!  Soon wilt thou be my own.’

’As soon as the Queen’s COUCHER is over!  I have but to change to a traveling dress.’

‘At the foot of the winding stair.  Sweetest be brave!’

‘I fear nothing with thee to guard me.  See, the Queen is rising.’

Elizabeth was in effect rising to make her respectful progress to the rooms of the Queen-mother, to bid her good night; and Eustacie must follow.  Would Diane be there?  Oh that the command to judge between her heart and her caution had not been given!  Cruel kindness!

Diane was there, straight as a poplar, cold as marble, with fixed eyes.  Eustacie stole up to her, and touched her.  She turned with a start.  ‘Cousin, you have been very good to me!’ Diane started again, as if stung.  You will love me still, whatever you hear?’

‘Is this meant for farewell?’ said Diane, grasping her wrist.

‘Do not ask me, Diane.  I may not.’

‘Where there is no trust there is no treason,’ said Diane, dreamily.  ’No, answer me not, little one, there will be time for that another day.  Where is he?’