n gazed covetously at Mazarin's winnings. She was growing fat,
and the three long curls on each side of her face in no wise diminished
its width; but her throat was still firm and white, and her hands,
saving their plumpness, were yet the envy of many a beautiful woman.
Anne of Austria was now devoted to three things; her prayers, her
hands, and her plays.

As for the other two, Madame de Motteville looked hungry and politely
bored, while the old marechal scowled at his cards.

Near-by, on a pile of cushions, sat Philippe d'Orleans, the king's
brother. He was cutting horses from three-colored prints and was
sailing them up the chimney. At the left of the fireplace, the dark
locks of the girl mingling with the golden curls of the boy, both
poring over a hook filled with war-like pictures, the one interested by
the martial spirit native to his blood, the other by the desire to
please, sat the boy Louis and Mademoiselle de Mancini, Mazarin's niece.
From time to time the cardinal permitted his gaze to wander in their
direction, and there was fatherly affection in his smile. Mazarin
liked to call these gatherings "family parties."

The center of the gallery presented an animated scene. The beautiful
Madame de Turenne, whose husband was the marechal-general of the armies
of France, then engaged in war against Spain, under whose banners the
great Conde was meeting with a long series of defeats, the Comtesse de
Soissons, the Abbe de la Rivre, Madame de Brigy, the Duc and Duchesse
de Montausier,--all were laughing and exchanging badinage with the Duc
de Gramont, who was playing execrably on Mademoiselle de Longueville's
guitar. Surrounding were the younger courtiers and ladies, who also
were enjoying the affair. There are few things which amuse young
people as much as the sight of an elderly, dignified man making a clown
of himself.

"Oh, Monsieur le Duc," cried Mademoiselle de Longueville, springing
from the window-seat from which position she had been staring at the
flambeaux below, "if you fought as badly as you play, you would never
have gained the baton."

"Mademoiselle, each has its time and place, the battle and the
madrigal, Homer and Voiture, and besides, I never play when I fight;"
and De Gramont continued his thrumming.

Just outside the pale of this merry circle the Duc de Beaufort leaned
over the chair of Madame de Montbazon, and carried on a conversation in
low tones. The duchess exhibited at interva