"Certainly," I replied, still under the excitement of Marguerite's last words, my eyes fixed ardently upon her.
"Good," said she; "put it all on the little table, and draw it up to the bed; we will help ourselves. This is the third night you have sat up, and you must be in want of sleep. Go to bed. I don't want anything more."
"I should think so! And above all, tell them not to admit anybody before midday."
At five o'clock in the morning, as the light began to appear through the curtains, Marguerite said to me: "Forgive me if I send you away; but I must. The duke comes every morning; they will tell him, when he comes, that I am asleep, and perhaps he will wait until I wake."
I took Marguerite's head in my hands; her loosened hair streamed about her; I gave her a last kiss, saying: "When shall I see you again?"
"Listen," she said; "take the little gilt key on the mantelpiece, open that door; bring me back the key and go. In the course of the day you shall have a letter, and my orders, for you know you are to obey blindly."
"Yes; but if I should already ask for something?"
"What you ask is a thing I have never done for any one."