do, duke?"

"There are secrets which kill those who discover them."

"He, then, who has discovered your secret, madman that you are, still
lives; and, what is more, you will not slay him, for he is armed on all
sides,--he is a husband, a jealous man,--he is the second gentleman in
France,--he is my son, the Duc du Orleans."

The duke turned pale as death. "You are very cruel, madame," he said.

"You see, Buckingham," said Anne of Austria, sadly, "how you pass from
one extreme to another, and fight with shadows, when it would seem so
easy to remain at peace with yourself."

"If we fight, madame, we die on the field of battle," replied the young
man, gently, abandoning himself to the most gloomy depression.

Anne ran towards him and took him by the hand. "Villiers," she said, in
English, with a vehemence of tone which nothing could resist, "what
is it you ask? Do you ask a mother to sacrifice her son,--a queen to
consent to the dishonor of her house? Child that you are, do not dream
of it. What! in order to spare your tears am I to commit these crimes?
Villiers! you speak of the dead; the dead, at least, were full of
respect and submission; they resigned themselves to an order of exile;
they carried their despair away with them in their hearts, like a
priceless possession, because the despair was caused by the woman they
loved, and because death, thus deceptive, was like a gift of a favor
conferred upon them."

Buckingham rose, his features distorted, and his hands pressed against
his heart. "You are right, madame," he said, "but those of whom you
speak had received their order of exile from the lips of the one whom
they loved; they were not driven away; they were entreated to leave, and
were not laughed at."

"No," murmured Anne of Austria, "they were not forgotten. But who says
you are driven away, or that you are exiled? Who says that your devotion
will not be remembered? I do not speak on any one's behalf but my own,
when I tell you to leave. Do me this kindness,--grant me this favor; let
me, for this also, be indebted to one of your name."

"It is for your sake, then, madame?"

"For mine alone."

"No one whom I shall leave behind me will venture to mock,--no prince
even who shall say, 'I required it.'"

"Listen to me, duke," and hereupon the dignified features of the queen
assumed a solemn expression. "I swear to you that no one commands in
this matter but myself. I swear to you that, not only shall no