k as minister, come back surrounded with guards who will defend
you, with servants who will watch over you, and then I shall no longer
fear for your days, and I shall be happy in seeing you."

"Oh, is this true what you say?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then, some pledge of your indulgence, some object which came from
you, and may remind me that I have not been dreaming; something you have
worn, and that I may wear in my turn--a ring, a necklace, a chain."

"Will you depart--will you depart, if I give you that you demand?"

"Yes."

"This very instant?"

"Yes."

"You will leave France, you will return to England?"

"I will, I swear to you."

"Wait, then, wait."

Anne of Austria re-entered her apartment, and came out again almost
immediately, holding a rosewood casket in her hand, with her cipher
encrusted with gold.

"Here, my Lord, here," said she, "keep this in memory of me."

Buckingham took the casket, and fell a second time on his knees.

"You have promised me to go," said the queen.

"And I keep my word. Your hand, madame, your hand, and I depart!"

Anne of Austria stretched forth her hand, closing her eyes, and leaning
with the other upon Estafania, for she felt that her strength was about
to fail her.

Buckingham pressed his lips passionately to that beautiful hand, and
then rising, said, "Within six months, if I am not dead, I shall have
seen you again, madame--even if I have to overturn the world." And
faithful to the promise he had made, he rushed out of the apartment.

In the corridor he met Mme. Bonacieux, who waited for him, and who, with
the same precautions and the same good luck, conducted him out of the
Louvre.

13 MONSIEUR BONACIEUX

There was in all this, as may have been observed, one personage
concerned, of whom, notwithstanding his precarious position, we
have appeared to take but very little notice. This personage was M.
Bonacieux, the respectable martyr of the political and amorous intrigues
which entangled themselves so nicely together at this gallant and
chivalric period.

Fortunately, the reader may remember, or may not remember--fortunately
we have promised not to lose sight of him.

The officers who arrested him conducted him straight to the Bastille,
where he passed trembling before a party of soldiers who were loading
their muskets. Thence, introduced into a half-subterranean gallery,
he became, on the part of those who had brought him, the object of the
grossest insu