regret Spain. I have lived long, my
lord, very long for a woman, and I confess to you, that not a year has
passed I have not regretted Spain."

"Not one year, madame?" said the young duke coldly. "Not one of those
years when you reigned Queen of Beauty--as you still are, indeed?"

"A truce to flattery, duke, for I am old enough to be your mother." She
emphasized these latter words in a manner, and with a gentleness, which
penetrated Buckingham's heart. "Yes," she said, "I am old enough to be
your mother; and for this reason, I will give you a word of advice."

"That advice being that I should return to London?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, my lord."

The duke clasped his hands with a terrified gesture, which could not
fail of its effect upon the queen, already disposed to softer feelings
by the tenderness of her own recollections. "It must be so," added the
queen.

"What!" he again exclaimed, "am I seriously told that I must
leave,--that I must exile myself,--that I am to flee at once?"

"Exile yourself, did you say? One would fancy France was your native
country."

"Madame, the country of those who love is the country of those whom they
love."

"Not another word, my lord; you forget whom you are addressing."

Buckingham threw himself on his knees. "Madame, you are the source of
intelligence, of goodness, and of compassion; you are the first person
in this kingdom, not only by your rank, but the first person in the
world on account of your angelic attributes. I have said nothing,
madame. Have I, indeed, said anything you should answer with such a
cruel remark? What have I betrayed?"

"You have betrayed yourself," said the queen, in a low tone of voice.

"I have said nothing,--I know nothing."

"You forget you have spoken and thought in the presence of a woman; and
besides--"

"Besides," said the duke, "no one knows you are listening to me."

"On the contrary, it is known; you have all the defects and all the
qualities of youth."

"I have been betrayed or denounced, then?"

"By whom?"

"By those who, at Le Havre, had, with infernal perspicacity, read my
heart like an open book."

"I do not know whom you mean."

"M. de Bragelonne, for instance."

"I know the name without being acquainted with the person to whom it
belongs. M. de Bragelonne has said nothing."

"Who can it be, then? If any one, madame, had had the boldness to notice
in me that which I do not myself wish to behold--"

"What would you