iancy of a dagger
starting from its sheath. "And you have done nothing in favor of our
love?" asked the girl, after a silence of a moment.

"Ah! mademoiselle, how could you believe that? I threw myself at the
feet of my mother; I begged her, I implored her; I told her all my hopes
of happiness were in you, I even threatened----"

"Well?" asked Marie, eagerly.

"Well? the queen-mother wrote to the court of Rome, and received as
answer, that a marriage between us would have no validity, and would be
dissolved by the holy father. At length, finding there was no hope for
us, I requested to have my marriage with the infanta at least delayed."

"And yet that does not prevent your being on the road to meet her?"

"How can I help it? To my prayers, to my supplications, to my tears, I
received no answer but reasons of state."

"Well, well?"

"Well, what is to be done, mademoiselle, when so many wills are leagued
against me?"

It was now Marie's turn to hang her head. "Then I must bid you adieu for
ever," said she. "You know that I am being exiled; you know that I am
going to be buried alive; you know still more that they want to marry me
off, too."

Louis became very pale, and placed his hand upon his heart.

"If I had thought that my life only had, been at stake, I have been so
persecuted that I might have yielded; but I thought yours was concerned,
my dear sire, and I stood out for the sake of preserving your happiness."

"Oh, yes! my happiness, my treasure!" murmured the king, more gallantly
than passionately, perhaps.

"The cardinal might have yielded," said Marie, "if you had addressed
yourself to him, if you had pressed him. For the cardinal to call the
king of France his nephew! do you not perceive, sire? He would have made
war even for that honor; the cardinal, assured of governing alone, under
the double pretext of having brought up the king and given his niece
to him in marriage--the cardinal would have fought all antagonists,
overcome all obstacles. Oh, sire! I can answer for that. I am a woman,
and I see clearly into everything where love is concerned."

These words produced a strange effect upon the king. Instead of
heightening his passion, they cooled it. He stopped, and said hastily,--

"What is to be said, mademoiselle? Everything has failed."

"Except your will, I trust, my dear sire?"

"Alas!" said the king, coloring, "have I a will?"

"Oh!" said Mademoiselle de Mancini mournfully, wounded b