“Well, Madame, I will follow him into exile.  It is my duty; I am his wife!” exclaimed Marie, sobbing.  “I would I knew he were already banished and in safety.”

“Dreams of eighteen!” said the Queen, supporting Marie.  “Awake, child, awake! you must.  I deny not the good qualities of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars.  He has a lofty character, a vast mind, and great courage; but he may no longer be aught for you, and, fortunately, you are not his wife, or even his betrothed.”

“I am his, Madame-his alone.”

“But without the benediction,” replied Anne of Austria; “in a word, without marriage.  No priest would have dared—­not even your own; he told me so.  Be silent!” she added, putting her two beautiful hands on Marie’s lips.  “Be silent!  You would say that God heard your vow; that you can not live without him; that your destinies are inseparable from his; that death alone can break your union?  The phrases of your age, delicious chimeras of a moment, at which one day you will smile, happy at not having to lament them all your life.  Of the many and brilliant women you see around me at court, there is not one but at your age had some beautiful dream of love, like this of yours, who did not form those ties, which they believed indissoluble, and who did not in secret take eternal oaths.  Well, these dreams are vanished, these knots broken, these oaths forgotten; and yet you see them happy women and mothers.  Surrounded by the honors of their rank, they laugh and dance every night.  I again divine what you would say—­they loved not as you love, eh?  You deceive yourself, my dear child; they loved as much, and wept no less.

“And here I must make you acquainted with that great mystery which constitutes your despair, since you are ignorant of the malady that devours you.  We have a twofold existence, ‘m’amie’:  our internal life, that of our feelings powerfully works within us, while the external life dominates despite ourselves.  We are never independent of men, more especially in an elevated condition.  Alone, we think ourselves mistresses of our destiny; but the entrance of two or three people fastens on all our chains, by recalling our rank and our retinue.  Nay; shut yourself up and abandon yourself to all the daring and extraordinary resolutions that the passions may raise up in you, to the marvellous sacrifices they may suggest to you.  A lackey coming and asking your orders will at once break the charm and bring you back to your real life.  It is this contest between your projects and your position which destroys you.  You are invariably angry with yourself; you bitterly reproach yourself.”

Marie turned away her head.