Glad to be freed from importunity, and left to her own thoughts, she replied nothing to the good mother's words; and, as soon as she was gone, gave up her whole mind to the recollection of the interview which she had just had with him she loved. To her, too, that interview was a source of deep gratification; every memory of it was dear to her; every word that Charles of Montsoreau had spoken came back to her heart like the voice of hope, and giving way to the suggestions of that bright enchantress, she flattered herself with the expectation of seeing him again and again, even if the presence of the Duke of Guise in Paris failed to restore them both to liberty. Previously to that period, she had been accustomed to see the Queen almost every day, and indeed more than once during the day; but, during the whole of that evening she saw her not again, and though she eagerly asked the next morning to be admitted to the presence of Catherine de Medici, the only answer that she obtained was, that though the Princess was expected again in the evening, she had not yet returned from the palace. The second day passed as the first had done, but during the morning of the third the excitement of the city had communicated itself even to the inmates of the convent. The portress, the lay sisters, the visiters, obtained the news of the hour from those without, and communicated it to the nuns within. Nor did two of those nuns, who had entered into some degree of intimacy with the fair prisoner, fail to bring her, every half-hour, intelligence of what was passing without. The first news brought was that the guards in the streets of Paris had been all changed and doubled during the preceding night, and that the Holy League and the Court were in continual agitation, watching each other's movements. One of the nuns whispered that people said, it had been proposed by the Duke of Epernon, to murder the Duke of Guise at the very door of that convent, as he came to visit the Queen-mother; and others declared, she added, that the Duke had vowed he would not rest till he had taken the crown off Henry's head, and put it on that of the Cardinal de Bourbon. Then came intelligence that a large body of the Swiss guards had just entered Paris, and were seen marching rapidly down the Rue St. Honoré, with their fifes silent, and their drums still. Hourly after that came the news of fresh troops entering the city, and fresh rumours of manifold designs and purposes against the life of the Duke of Guise. His house was to be attacked by the French and Swiss guards, and his head to be struck off in the Place de Grève: he was to be shot by an assassin, placed at one of the windows of an opposite house, the first time he came out; and some said that Villequier had found means to bribe Lanecque, his cook, to poison him that night at supper, as well as all who were with him.