The Queen resumed in a more serious tone: 

“God has been more merciful to you than your imprudence perhaps deserved, Marie.  He has saved you from great danger.  You were willing to make great sacrifices, but fortunately they have not been accomplished as you expected.  Innocence has saved you from love.  You are as one who, thinking she has swallowed a deadly poison, has in reality drunk only pure and harmless water.”

“Ah, Madame, what mean you?  Am I not unhappy enough already?”

“Do not interrupt me,” said the Queen; “you will, ere long, see your present position with different eyes.  I will not accuse you of ingratitude toward the Cardinal; I have too many reasons for not liking him.  I myself witnessed the rise of the conspiracy.  Still, you should remember, ‘ma chere’, that he was the only person in France who, against the opinion of the Queen-mother and of the court, insisted upon war with the duchy of Mantua, which he recovered from the empire and from Spain, and returned to the Duc de Nevers, your father.  Here, in this very chateau of Saint-Germain, was signed the treaty which deposed the Duke of Guastalla.—­[The 19th of May, 1632.]—­You were then very young; they must, however, have told you of it.  Yet here, through love alone (I am willing to believe, with yourself, that it is so), a young man of two-and-twenty is ready to get him assassinated.”

“O Madame, he is incapable of such a deed.  I swear to you that he has refused to adopt it.”

“I have begged you, Marie, to let me speak.  I know that he is generous and loyal.  I am willing to believe that, contrary to the custom of our times, he would not go so far as to kill an old man, as did the Chevalier de Guise.  But can he prevent his assassination, if his troops make him prisoner?  This we can not say, any more than he.  God alone knows the future.  It is, at all events, certain that it is for you he attacks him, and, to overthrow him, is preparing civil war, which perhaps is bursting forth at the very moment that we speak—­a war without success.  Whichever way it turns, it can only effect evil, for Monsieur is going to abandon the conspiracy.”

“How, Madame?”

“Listen to me.  I tell you I am certain of it; I need not explain myself further.  What will the grand ecuyer do?  The King, as he rightly anticipated, has gone to consult the Cardinal.  To consult him is to yield to him; but the treaty of Spain is signed.  If it be discovered, what can Monsieur de Cinq-Mars do?  Do not tremble thus.  We will save him; we will save his life, I promise you.  There is yet time, I hope.”

“Ah, Madame, you hope!  I am lost!” cried Marie, half fainting.

“Let us sit down,” said the Queen; and, placing herself near Marie, at the entrance to the chamber, she continued: 

“Doubtless Monsieur will treat for all the conspirators in treating for himself; but exile will be the least punishment, perpetual exile.  Behold, then, the Duchesse de Nevers and Mantua, the Princesse Marie de Gonzaga, the wife of Monsieur Henri d’Effiat, Marquis de Cinq-Mars, exiled!”