isely what the word implies, and they were
held by royalty whilst still abed. It was not, therefore, amazing that
he should have been admitted to her presence. She was alone save for her
lady-in-waiting, Madame de Lannoi, who was, we are told, aged, prudent
and virtuous. Conceive, therefore, the outraged feelings of this lady
upon seeing the English duke precipitate himself wildly into the room,
and on his knees at the royal bedside seize the coverlet and bear it to
his lips.

Whilst the young Queen looked confused and agitated, Madame de Lannoi
became a pillar of icy dignity.

"M. le Duc," says she, "it is not customary in France to kneel when
speaking to the Queen."

"I care nothing for the customs of France, madame," he answered rudely.
"I am not a Frenchman."

"That is too obvious, monsieur," snapped the elderly, prudent and
virtuous countess. "Nevertheless, whilst in France perhaps monsieur will
perceive the convenience of conforming to French customs. Let me call
for a chair for Monsieur le Duc."

"I do not want a chair, madame."

The countess cast her eyes to Heaven, as if to say, "I suppose one
cannot expect anything else in a foreigner," and let him kneel as he
insisted, placing herself, however, protectingly at the Queen's pillow.

Nevertheless, entirely unabashed, heeding Madame de Lannoi's presence
no more than if she had been part of the room's furniture, the Duke
delivered himself freely of what was in his mind. He had been obliged to
return to Amiens on a matter of State. It was unthinkable that he should
be so near to her Majesty and not hasten to cast himself at her feet;
and whilst gladdening the eyes of his body with the sight of her
matchless perfection, the image of which was ever before the eyes of
his soul, allow himself the only felicity life now held for him--that of
protesting himself her utter slave. This, and much more of the kind,
did he pour out, what time the Queen, embarrassed and annoyed beyond
utterance, could only stare at him in silence.

Apart from the matchless impudence of it, it was also of a rashness
beyond pardon. Unless Madame de Lannoi were the most circumspect of
women, here was a fine tale for Court gossips, and for the King's ears,
a tale that must hopelessly compromise the Queen. For that, Buckingham,
in his self-sufficiency and arrogance, appears to have cared nothing.
One suspects that it would have pleased his vanity to have his name
linked with the Queen's by