“You are as fresh as the roses in this bouquet,” said the Queen.  “Come, ‘ma chere’, are you ready?  What means this pouting air?  Come, let me fasten this earring.  Do you not like these toys, eh?  Will you have another set of ornaments?”

“Oh, no, Madame.  I think that I ought not to decorate myself at all, for no one knows better than yourself how unhappy I am.  Men are very cruel toward us!

“I have reflected on what you said, and all is now clear to me.  Yes, it is quite true that he did not love me, for had he loved me he would have renounced an enterprise that gave me so much uneasiness.  I told him, I remember, indeed, which was very decided,” she added, with an important and even solemn air, “that he would be a rebel—­yes, Madame, a rebel.  I told him so at Saint-Eustache.  But I see that your Majesty was right.  I am very unfortunate!  He had more ambition than love.”  Here a tear of pique escaped from her eyes, and rolled quickly down her cheek, as a pearl upon a rose.

“Yes, it is certain,” she continued, fastening her bracelets; “and the greatest proof is that in the two months he has renounced his enterprise—­you told me that you had saved him—­he has not let me know the place of his retreat, while I during that time have been weeping, have been imploring all your power in his favor; have sought but a word that might inform me of his proceedings.  I have thought but of him; and even now I refuse every day the throne of Poland, because I wish to prove to the end that I am constant, that you yourself can not make me disloyal to my attachment, far more serious than his, and that we are of higher worth than the men.  But, however, I think I may attend this fete, since it is not a ball.”

“Yes, yes, my dear child! come, come!” said the Queen, desirous of putting an end to this childish talk, which afflicted her all the more that it was herself who had encouraged it.  “Come, you will see the union that prevails between the princes and the Cardinal, and we shall perhaps hear some good news.”  They departed.

When the two princesses entered the long galleries of the Palais-Cardinal, they were received and coldly saluted by the King and the minister, who, closely surrounded by silent courtiers, were playing at chess upon a small low table.  All the ladies who entered with the Queen or followed her, spread through the apartments; and soon soft music sounded in one of the saloons—­a gentle accompaniment to the thousand private conversations carried on round the play tables.

Near the Queen passed, saluting her, a young newly married couple—­the happy Chabot and the beautiful Duchesse de Rohan.  They seemed to shun the crowd, and to seek apart a moment to speak to each other of themselves.  Every one received them with a smile and looked after them with envy.  Their happiness was expressed as strongly in the countenances of others as in their own.

Marie followed them with her eyes.  “Still they are happy,” she whispered to the Queen, remembering the censure which in her hearing had been thrown upon the match.