came again, like the noise of the waves and the winds. The door once
more opened, and this time it was to admit a very charming person.

"I expected you, dear Marie," said the Queen, extending her arms to the
Duchesse de Mantua. "You have been more courageous than any of us; you
are attired fit to be seen by all the court."

"I was not in bed, fortunately," replied the young Princesse de Gonzaga,
casting down her eyes. "I saw all these people from the windows.
O Madame, Madame, fly! I implore you to escape by the secret stairway,
and let us remain in your place. They might take one of us for the
Queen." And she added, with tears, "I have heard cries of death.
Fly, Madame! I have no throne to lose. You are the daughter, the wife,
and the mother of kings. Save yourself, and leave us here!"

"You have more to lose than I, 'm'amaie', in beauty, youth, and, I hope,
in happiness," said the Queen, with a gracious smile, giving the Duchess
her beautiful hands to kiss. "Remain in my alcove and welcome; but we
will both remain there. The only service I accept from you, my sweet
child, is to bring to my bed that little golden casket which my poor
Motteville has left on the ground, and which contains all that I hold
most precious."

Then, as she took it, she whispered in Marie's ear:

"Should any misfortune happen to me, swear that you will throw it into
the Seine."

"I will obey you, Madame, as my benefactress and my second mother," Marie
answered, weeping.