“But I shall ask for nothing. The only favor I want is an opportunity to serve the king, and die for him, if that will do him good.” “But it wont. Running away and dying isn’t likely to help either the king or queen. It wants brains, brains for that.” Here Dame Tillery tapped her forehead with one finger, and nodded significantly. “All you want is a guide, and one is always at hand.” Marguerite drew a deep breath, and uttered a silent thanksgiving that her way to the queen promised to be made so smooth. Having thus given vent to the self-importance that consumed her, Dame Tillery took off her outer garments, and, seating herself in the cosiest chair the little room contained, watched the young girl. Then Dame Doudel came in from the market, light, sharp, and active as a bird. She saw the landlady of The Swan leaning back in her chair, flew towards her, and in an instant was buried in her bosom. “Sister, my dear, dear sister!” At first the good landlady forgot her dignity, and gave her sister a hearty embrace; but remembering herself, she put the little woman gently away. “Dame Doudel, I love you dearly; but you are a Jacobin.” “Sister Tillery, you are a royalist.” “Yes, heart, soul, and body; but one of the people, too.” “Carrying water on both shoulders is dangerous in these days,” answered Dame Doudel, sharply. “It is just that which will yet unite the people with their king. These cries of fraternity, equality, liberty, are an insult to us of the court.” “But the court itself must adopt them before the people will be satisfied, I can tell you that.” “Dame Tillery—Dame Doudel, why are you talking so sharply? This has never happened before. It makes my heart sore to hear you. Forgive me, I cannot help speaking.” Both women turned from the heat of their dispute and looked kindly on that girl, who sat like a troubled angel amid her flowers, regarding them with tears in her eyes. “Why should dissension have crept in here?” she said, gently. “We all love each other.” “True!” said Doudel, reaching forth her hand. “True!” answered Tillery, forgetting her dignity, in an honest burst of affection, in which the smaller woman was gathered up in a cordial embrace. “We both love the people!” “And the royal family. Our blessed Lady give them wisdom!” said Doudel, yielding a little on her part. “Heaven forbid that their enemies should increase!” Marguerite arose, wiped her eyes, and kissing them both with angelic fervor, went away, leaving the sisters together. They were not so far apart, after all. The very last persons who gave up their love for the king were the _Dames de la Halle_, to whom Doudel belonged.