with gold and precious stones, and showing their white teeth in emulation of each other, to please the Lady Henrietta Stuart, grand-daughter of Henry IV., daughter of Charles I., and sister of Charles II., who occupied the seat of honor under the dais of the bark.  We know this young princess, we have seen her at the Louvre with her mother, wanting wood, wanting bread, and fed by the coadjuteur and the parliament.  She had, therefore, like her brothers, passed through an uneasy youth; then, all at once, she had just awakened from a long and horrible dream, seated on the steps of a throne, surrounded by courtiers and flatterers.  Like Mary Stuart on leaving prison, she aspired not only to life and liberty, but to power and wealth.

The Lady Henrietta, in growing, had attained remarkable beauty, which the recent restoration had rendered celebrated.  Misfortune had taken from her the luster of pride, but prosperity had restored it to her.  She was resplendent, then, in her joy and her happiness, — like those hot-house flowers which, forgotten during a frosty autumn night, have hung their heads, but which on the morrow, warmed once more by the atmosphere in which they were born, rise again with greater splendor than ever.  Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, son of him who played so conspicuous a part in the early chapters of this history, — Villiers of Buckingham, a handsome cavalier, melancholy with women, a jester with men, — and Wilmot, Lord Rochester, a jester with both sexes, were standing at this moment before the Lady Henrietta, disputing the privilege of making her smile.  As to that young and beautiful princess, reclining upon a cushion of velvet bordered with gold, her hands hanging listlessly so as to dip in the water, she listened carelessly to the musicians without hearing them, and heard the two courtiers without appearing to listen to them.

This Lady Henrietta — this charming creature — this woman who joined the graces of France to the beauties of England, not having yet loved, was cruel in her coquetry.  The smile, then, — that innocent favor of young girls, — did not even lighten her countenance; and if, at times, she did raise her eyes, it was to fasten them upon one or other of the cavaliers with such a fixity, that their gallantry, bold as it generally was, took the alarm, and became timid.

In the meanwhile the boat continued its course, the musicians made a great noise, and the courtiers began, like them, to be out of breath.  Besides, the excursion became doubtless monotonous to the princess, for all at once, shaking her head with an air of impatience, — “Come gentlemen, — enough of this; — let us land.”

“Ah, madam,” said Buckingham, “we are very unfortunate!  We have not succeeded in making the excursion agreeable to your royal highness.”

“My mother expects me,” replied the princess; “and I must frankly admit, gentlemen, I am bored.”  And whilst uttering this cruel word, Henrietta endeavored to console by a look each of the two young men, who appeared terrified at such frankness.  The look produced its effect — the two faces brightened; but immediately, as if the royal coquette thought she had done too much for simple mortals, she made a movement, turned her back on both her adorers, and appeared plunged in a reverie in which it was evident they had no part.