Monsieur Jacques broke off in confusion; words were upon his lips which he would not have dared to utter for the whole world. He looked around, and made a motion to unclasp his arms from around that inanimate girl; but that instant her eyelids began to quiver, and her lips parted with a struggling breath. “Look up; do not be afraid to smile. It is a pardon—it is all you want,” whispered the strange man. A smile dawned softly over those pale lips, tinting them like a rose. “Are you sure—are you quite sure?” she murmured, fixing her eyes on the rude face bent above her. “Indeed, he is quite sure,” answered the queen, with tears in her eyes; “The order but now dropped from your hand. It is the king’s gift.” Now the color came back to Marguerite’s face quick and warm. She withdrew herself from Monsieur Jacques’ arms, and stood up trembling with joy, as a rose quivers when the first gush of morning sunshine bursts upon it. “Oh, this is joy!” she said, lifting her eyes to the queen, “this is joy! I never knew what it was before in all my life. Let me go—let me go, that I may tell her! She is waiting; she sits with her hands clasped, holding her breath till I come. Oh, lady, forgive me! joy has made me wild. I forget that it is the queen to whom I speak, or that this is the king, at whose feet I should throw myself. I only know this, the happiest mortal that ever drew breath is prostrate before you, overwhelmed with gratitude for which she has no words.” Marguerite was on her knees, her face uplifted, beaming with smiles and glistening with tears. The queen bent down and kissed her. Good-hearted little Madame Campan sobbed aloud, at which the mistress of ceremonies drew herself up and frowned darkly. In all her experience it had not been considered etiquette for a Queen of France to shed tears in her audience-chamber. No wonder the pillars of state were tottering under such innovations. After the first ecstacy of her gratitude had subsided, Marguerite arose and retreated toward the door, drawing close to Monsieur Jacques. Dame Tillery followed, and seeing her flushed face, opened the green expanse of her fan, and shed its cool air upon her, whispering, “Hush! hush, my child! do not weep any more—remember, I am here to protect you. See, her majesty smiles; that is because she knows that Dame Tillery is caring for you. Why, there goes monsieur up to the king—what confidence, what audacity. I, who have so much greater right, hesitated and lost the opportunity, being modest.” True enough, Monsieur Jacques had respectfully approached the king, but not before he was informed by the young duke that her majesty desired it. Up to this time Louis had not looked directly at the man. His attention had been completely taken up by that beautiful girl and he gave little heed to anything else. But as Jacques came slowly toward him he remembered the features, and a slight frown contracted his brows.