yself further. What will the grand ecuyer do? The King, as he rightly
anticipated, has gone to consult the Cardinal. To consult him is to
yield to him; but the treaty of Spain is signed. If it be discovered,
what can Monsieur de Cinq-Mars do? Do not tremble thus. We will save
him; we will save his life, I promise you. There is yet time, I hope."

"Ah, Madame, you hope! I am lost!" cried Marie, half fainting.

"Let us sit down," said the Queen; and, placing herself near Marie, at
the entrance to the chamber, she continued:

"Doubtless Monsieur will treat for all the conspirators in treating
for himself; but exile will be the least punishment, perpetual exile.
Behold, then, the Duchesse de Nevers and Mantua, the Princesse Marie
de Gonzaga, the wife of Monsieur Henri d'Effiat, Marquis de Cinq-Mars,
exiled!"

"Well, Madame, I will follow him into exile. It is my duty; I am
his wife!" exclaimed Marie, sobbing. "I would I knew he were already
banished and in safety."

"Dreams of eighteen!" said the Queen, supporting Marie. "Awake, child,
awake! you must. I deny not the good qualities of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars.
He has a lofty character, a vast mind, and great courage; but he may no
longer be aught for you, and, fortunately, you are not his wife, or even
his betrothed."

"I am his, Madame-his alone."

"But without the benediction," replied Anne of Austria; "in a word,
without marriage. No priest would have dared--not even your own; he told
me so. Be silent!" she added, putting her two beautiful hands on Marie's
lips. "Be silent! You would say that God heard your vow; that you can
not live without him; that your destinies are inseparable from his; that
death alone can break your union? The phrases of your age, delicious
chimeras of a moment, at which one day you will smile, happy at not
having to lament them all your life. Of the many and brilliant women
you see around me at court, there is not one but at your age had some
beautiful dream of love, like this of yours, who did not form those
ties, which they believed indissoluble, and who did not in secret take
eternal oaths. Well, these dreams are vanished, these knots broken,
these oaths forgotten; and yet you see them happy women and mothers.
Surrounded by the honors of their rank, they laugh and dance every
night. I again divine what you would say--they loved not as you love,
eh? You deceive yourself, my dear child; they loved as much, and wept no
less.

"And here I m