ide all to me," said the king, in a soft voice,--himself
displeased at what he was saying,--"you could not so demean yourself as
to be a spy on the words and actions of others, nor could I desire or
permit you to do so; but it is necessary for me to know how the queen
can be helped out of her present trouble, and, therefore, I ought to be
informed of what is told her, and how matters are discussed here."

"Certainly, Your Majesty," replied Madame Leoni, and, having apologized
for the ugly words, she informed him how the physician had spoken of
the origin of the mud in the highways, how a pure drop from the
heavenly clouds mingles with the dust of the road; and that they had
gone on to talk of sculpture, of _haut relief_ and _bas relief_.

Madame Leoni could only furnish a disconnected statement, but the king
already knew enough.

CHAPTER XVIII.

On the following morning, the king sent word to the queen that he must
see her.

He hastened to her.

They were both alone in the apartment.

The king was about to embrace his wife.

She begged him to be seated.

"As you please," said he, in a gentle voice. He was resolved to win her
back to him, in candor and love.

"Will you speak first, or shall I?" he asked, after a pause.

His voice was clear and distinct, and startled her. She observed his
fresh appearance, and grew still paler. She pressed her hand to her
heart; she could not speak.

"Well, then let me speak. Mathilde, we won each other in sincere love.
I frankly confess that I have sinned deeply against you and others, and
now I beg you to believe in my sincere repentance. Don't judge me
meanly, or in a narrow sense!"

"Not meanly? O yes, I understand! To great minds like yourself,
morality is narrow-mindedness. Yours are the large, the world-embracing
hearts, and I am a bigoted, self-opinionated creature!"

"Mathilde, don't say that; I didn't mean to wound you."

"Oh no! you didn't mean to wound me; certainly not, never!"

"Mathilde, with that tone we shall never arrive at perfect harmony. Ask
anything of me, as a proof of my repentance and conversion. You have
the right to do so; I swear to you--"

"Don't swear. I pity you,--there's nothing left by which you can swear.
Swear by the head of your child--the child at whose cradle you
exchanged adulterous words and glances with her!"

"Let the future efface all recollection of the past!"

"Very well. Issue a roya