It was, as Gabriel had told the queen, an imitation of the "Eunuchus" of Terence, written in lines of eight syllables, and translated with all the pedantic simplicity of the time. We will abstain from criticising the play. It would be, moreover, an anachronism, for criticism had not yet been invented at that barbarous epoch. It will suffice for us to remind our readers that the principal character is a braggart, a swaggering soldier who allows himself to be duped and bullied by a sycophant. Now, from the very beginning of the play, the many partisans of the Guises who were in the hall could see in the absurd old bully only the Constable de Montmorency, while the Montmorency faction chose to recognize the ambitious views of the Duc de Guise in the bluster of the swaggering soldier. And so every scene was a piece of satire, and every sally a pointed hit. The two factions laughed uproariously, and pointed at one another with their fingers; and, truth to tell, this comedy which was being enacted in the hall was no less entertaining than that which the actors were performing on the platform. Our lovers took advantage of the interest which the two rival camps took in the performance to speak quietly and calmly of their love amid the shouts and laughter. In the first place, each pronounced the other's name in a low voice. It was the sacred invocation. "Diane!" "Gabriel!" "Are you really going to marry François de Montmorency?" "You have made rapid strides in the queen's good graces, haven't you?" "But you heard her call me." "And you know that the king wishes this marriage." "But have you not consented to it, Diane?" "But haven't you listened to Catherine, Gabriel?" "One word, just one!" replied Gabriel. "But you still feel some interest, do you, in the feeling which may be aroused in me by another than yourself? Then you must care something for what is passing in my heart." "I care as much for it," said Madame de Castro, "as you do for what is passing in mine." "Oh! then let me tell you, Diane, that if you are like me, you are jealous; if you are like me, you love me to distraction." "Monsieur d'Exmès," said Diane, who tried for an instant to be severe, poor child!--"Monsieur d'Exmès, I am called Madame de Castro." "But are you not a widow, Madame? Are you not free?" "Free, alas!" "Oh, Diane, you sigh. Tell me, Diane, that your childish affection, which made our early years so sweet, has left some trace in the maiden's heart. Oh, tell me, Diane, that you still love me a little! Don't fear that any one will hear you, for everybody near us is taken up with the jokes of that sycophant; they have no tender words to listen to, so they are laughing. Oh, Diane, smile upon me and answer me; do you love me, Diane?" "Hush! Don't you see that the act is coming to an end?" said the roguish damsel. "Wait at least till the play begins again."