“Sire, it is a family secret.”
“There are no secrets from the king—a father interested in all his subjects, who are his children, although, like unnatural children, they may sometimes attack the honor and safety of their father.”
This speech made the queen tremble anew.
“M. de Charny asked,” replied she, “permission to marry.”
“Really,” cried the king, reassured for a moment. Then, after a pause, he said, “But why should it be impossible for M. de Charny to marry? Is he not noble? Has he not a good fortune? Is he not brave and handsome? Really, to refuse him, the lady ought to be a princess, or already married. I can see no other reason for an impossibility. Therefore, madame, tell me the name of the lady who is loved by M. de Charny, and let me see if I cannot remove the difficulty.”
The queen, forced to continue her falsehood, replied:
“No, sire; there are difficulties which even you cannot remove, and the present one is of this nature.”
“Still, I wish to hear,” replied the king, his anger returning.
Charny looked at the queen—she seemed ready to faint. He made a step towards her and then drew back. How dared he approach her in the king’s presence?
“Oh!” thought she, “for an idea—something that the king can neither doubt nor disbelieve.” Then suddenly a thought struck her. She who has dedicated herself to heaven the king cannot influence. “Sire!” she cried, “she whom M. de Charny wishes to marry is in a convent.”