"It is true, sire, and I ask your pardon," said Marguerite, smiling. "Ma mie, you are right, public report often lies, and we sovereigns have great reason to establish this theory;" and he laughed ironically. "Well; and Fosseuse?" said Marguerite. "She is ill, ma mie, and the doctors do not understand her malady." "That is strange, sire. Fosseuse, who you say is a pearl of purity, ought to allow the doctors to penetrate into the secret of her illness." "Alas! it is not so." "What!" cried the queen; "is she not a pearl of purity?" "I mean that she persists in hiding the cause of her illness from the doctors." "But to you, sire, her confidant, her father." "I know nothing, or at least wish to know nothing." "Then, sire," said Marguerite, who now believed that she had to confer instead of asking a pardon; "then, sire, I do not know what you want; and wait for you to explain." "Well, then, ma mie, I will tell you. I wish you--but it is asking a great deal." "Speak on, sire." "To have the goodness to go to Fosseuse." "I go to visit this girl whom every one says has the honor of being your mistress; a thing which you do not deny." "Gently, gently, ma mie. On my word you will make a scandal with your exclamations; and really I believe that will rejoice the court of France, for in the letter from my brother-in-law that Chicot repeated to me, there was these words, 'Quotidie scandalurn,' which must mean 'daily scandal.' It is not necessary to know Latin to understand that: it is almost French." "But, sire, to whom did these words apply?" "Ah! that is what I want to know, but you, who know Latin, can help me to find out." Marguerite colored up to her ears. "Well, monsieur," said she, "you wish me to take a humiliating step for the sake of peace, and therefore I will comply." "Thanks, ma mie, thanks." "But what is the object of this visit?" "It is very simple, madame." "Still, you must tell me, for I am not clever enough to guess it." "Well! you will find Fosseuse among the ladies of honor, sleeping in their room; and they, you know, are so curious and indiscreet that one cannot tell to what extremity Fosseuse may be reduced." "But then she fears something," cried Marguerite, with a burst of anger and hatred; "she wishes to hide herself." "I do not know; all I do know is, that she wishes to quit the room of the maids of honor." "If she wishes to hide, let her not count on me. I may shut my eyes to certain things, but I will never be an accomplice," said Marguerite. Henri seemed not to have heard, but he stood for a minute in a thoughtful attitude, and then said, "Margota cum Turennio. Ah! those were the names, madame--'Margota cum Turennio.'" Marguerite grew crimson. "Calumnies, sire!" cried she.