downcast Buckingham who came now to Anne of
Austria as she sat in her coach with the Princesse de Conti for only
companion.

"Madame," he said, "I am come to take my leave."

"Fare you well, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur," she said, and her voice was
warm and gentle, as if to show him that she bore no malice.

"I am come to ask your pardon, madame," he said, in a low voice.

"Oh, monsieur--no more, I beg you." She looked down; her hands were
trembling, her cheeks going red and white by turns.

He put his head behind the curtains of the coach, so that none might see
him from outside, and looking at him now, she beheld tears in his eyes.

"Do not misunderstand me, madame. I ask your pardon only for having
discomposed you, startled you. As for what I said, it were idle to ask
pardon, since I could no more help saying it than I can help drawing
breath. I obeyed an instinct stronger than the will to live. I gave
expression to something that dominates my whole being, and will ever
dominate it as long as I have life. Adieu, madame! At need you know
where a servant who will gladly die for you is to be found." He kissed
the hem of her robe, dashed the back of his hand across his eyes, and
was gone before she could say a word in answer.

She sat pale, and very thoughtful, and the Princesse de Conti, watching
her furtively, observed that her eyes were moist.

"I will answer for the Queen's virtue," she stated afterwards, "but I
cannot speak so positively for the hardness of her heart, since without
doubt the Duke's tears affected her spirits."

But it was not yet the end. As Buckingham was nearing Calais, he was
met by a courier from Whitehall, with instructions for him regarding
the negotiations he had been empowered to carry out with France in the
matter of an alliance against Spain--negotiations which had not
thriven with Louis and Richelieu, possibly because the ambassador was
ill-chosen. The instructions came too late to be of use, but in time to
serve as a pretext for Buckingham's return to Amiens. There he sought an
audience of the Queen-Mother, and delivered himself to her of a futile
message for the King. This chimerical business--as Madame de Motteville
shrewdly calls it--being accomplished, he came to the real matter which
had prompted him to use that pretext for his return, and sought audience
of Anne of Austria.

It was early morning, and the Queen was not yet risen. But the levees at
the Court of France were prec