“What were you doing, then?”

“I thought I was under the ferule of my professor, and developing a subject of amplification.”

“My son,” replied Anne of Austria, shaking her head, “you are wrong not to trust my word; you are wrong not to grant me your confidence.  A day will come, and perhaps quickly, wherein you will have occasion to remember that axiom:  — ’Gold is universal power; and they alone are kings who are all-powerful.’”

“Your intention,” continued the king, “was not, however, to cast blame upon the rich men of this age, was it?”

“No,” said the queen, warmly; “no, sire; they who are rich in this age, under your reign, are rich because you have been willing they should be so, and I entertain against them neither malice nor envy; they have, without doubt, served your majesty sufficiently well for your majesty to have permitted them to reward themselves.  That is what I mean to say by the words for which you reproach me.”

“God forbid, madame, that I should ever reproach my mother with anything!”

“Besides,” continued Anne of Austria, “the Lord never gives the goods of this world but for a season; the Lord — as correctives to honor and riches — the Lord has placed sufferings, sickness, and death; and no one,” added she, with a melancholy smile, which proved she made the application of the funeral precept to herself, “no man can take his wealth or greatness with him to the grave.  It results, therefore, that the young gather the abundant harvest prepared for them by the old.”

Louis listened with increased attention to the words which Anne of Austria, no doubt, pronounced with a view to console him.  “Madame,” said he, looking earnestly at his mother, “one would almost say in truth that you had something else to announce to me.”

“I have absolutely nothing, my son; only you cannot have failed to remark that his eminence the cardinal is very ill.”

Louis looked at his mother, expecting some emotion in her voice, some sorrow in her countenance.  The face of Anne of Austria appeared a little changed, but that was from sufferings of quite a personal character.  Perhaps the alteration was caused by the cancer which had begun to consume her breast.  “Yes, madame,” said the king; “yes, M. de Mazarin is very ill.”

“And it would be a great loss to the kingdom if God were to summon his eminence away.  Is not that your opinion as well as mine, my son?” said the queen.

“Yes, madame; yes, certainly, it would be a great loss for the kingdom,” said Louis, coloring; “but the peril does not seem to me to be so great; besides, the cardinal is still young.”  The king had scarcely ceased speaking when an usher lifted the tapestry, and stood with a paper in his hand, waiting for the king to speak to him.

“What have you there?” asked the king.

“A message from M. de Mazarin,” replied the usher.

“Give it to me,” said the king; and he took the paper.  But at the moment he was about to open it, there was a great noise in the gallery, the ante-chamber, and the court.