"You have asked me, Diane, and you shall know the whole," said Gabriel. "You shall share equally with me in my awful secret. And, indeed, I shall be glad to know what you think of what I am about to disclose to you,--whether, after you have heard it you will still persist in your clemency, and whether your tone and your features and your movements will not in any event belie the words of forgiveness which may come to your lips.--Listen." "I listen in fear and trembling, Gabriel." Thereupon, Gabriel, in a breathless, quivering voice, told Madame de Castro the whole sombre story: of the king's reception of him, and how Henri had again reaffirmed his promise; the remonstrances which Madame de Poitiers and the constable had seemed to be making to him; of the night of feverish anguish that he had passed; of his second visit to the Châtelet, his descent into the bowels of the pestilence-laden prison, and the lugubrious narrative of Monsieur de Sazerac,--in short, everything. Diane listened without interrupting him, without an exclamation or a movement, as mute and rigid as a statue, her eyes fixed in their sockets, and her very hair fairly standing on end. There was a long pause when Gabriel had finished his gloomy story. Then Diane tried to speak, but could not, for her tongue refused to perform its office. Gabriel seemed to feel a dreadful species of pleasure as he observed her anguish and her terror. At last, she succeeded in ejaculating,-- "Mercy for the king!" "Ah!" cried Gabriel, "do you ask for mercy for him? Then you, too, must judge him guilty! Mercy? Ah, your very appeal is a condemnation! Mercy? He deserves death, does he not?" "Oh, I did not say that," replied Diane, in dismay. "Indeed you did say it, in effect! I see that you agree with me, Diane. You think and feel as I do. But we come to different conclusions in accordance with the difference in our natures. The woman pleads for mercy, and the man demands justice!" "Ah!" cried Diane, "rash, insane creature that I am! Why did I tempt you to come to the Louvre?" As she said these words some one rapped softly at the door. "Who is there? What is wanted? _Mon Dieu_!" exclaimed Madame de Castro. André partially opened the door. "Excuse me, Madame," said he, "a message from the king." "From the king!" echoed Gabriel, whose face lighted up. "Why do you bring me this letter now, André?" "Madame, they told me it was urgent." "Very well, give it me. What does the king want of me? You may go, André. If there is any reply, I will call you." André left the room. Diane broke the seal of the king's letter, and read in a low tone, and with increasing terror, what follows:-- MY DEAR DIANE,--I am told that you are at the Louvre; do not go out, I beg you, until I have visited you in your apartments. I am at a sitting of the council which is likely to end at any moment. When I leave the council-chamber I will come immediately to you. Expect me very soon.