"Very good. We will sign an agreement to that effect whenever you like. And now, go as quickly as you can to M. Fouquet's friends, obtain an interview with the surintendant; do not be too difficult in making whatever concessions may be required of you; and when once the arrangements are all made—"
"I will press him to sign."
"Be most careful to do nothing of the kind; do not speak of signatures with M. Fouquet, nor of deeds, nor even ask him to pass his word. Understand this, otherwise you will lose everything. All you have to do is to get M. Fouquet to give you his hand on the matter. Go, go."
CHAPTER L.
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN-MOTHER.
The queen-mother was in her bedroom at the Palais Royal, with Madame de Motteville and the Senora Molina. The king, who had been impatiently expected the whole day, had not made his appearance; and the queen, who had grown quite impatient, had often sent to inquire about him. The whole atmosphere of the court seemed to indicate an approaching storm; the courtiers and the ladies of the court avoided meeting in the antechambers and the corridors, in order not to converse on compromising subjects. Monsieur had joined the king early in the morning for a hunting-party; Madame remained in her own apartments, cool and distant to every one: and the queen-mother, after she had said her prayers in Latin, talked of domestic matters with her two friends, in pure Castilian. Madame de Motteville, who understood the language perfectly, answered her in French. When the three ladies had exhausted every form of dissimulation and politeness, as a circuitous mode of expressing that the king's conduct was making the queen and the queen-mother pine away from sheer grief and vexation, and when, in the most guarded and polished phrases, they had fulminated every variety of imprecation against Mademoiselle de la Valliere, the queen-mother terminated her attack by an exclamation indicative of her own reflections and character.
"Estos hijos!" said she to Molina—which means, "These children!" words full of meaning in a mother's lips—words full of terrible significance in the mouth of a queen who, like Anne of Austria, hid many curious and dark secrets in her soul.
"Yes," said Molina, "these children! for whom every mother becomes a sacrifice."
"Yes," replied the queen; "a mother has sacrificed everything, certainly." She did not finish her phrase; for she fancied, when she raised her eyes toward the full-length portrait of the pale Louis XIII., that light had once more flashed from her husband's dull eyes, and that his nostrils were inflated by wrath. The portrait seemed animated by a living expression—speak it did not, but it seemed to menace. A profound silence succeeded the queen's last remark. La Molina began to turn over the ribbons and lace of a large work-table. Madame de Motteville, surprised at the look of mutual intelligence which had been exchanged between the confidante and her mistress, cast down her eyes, like a discreet woman, and, pretending to be observant of nothing that was passing, listened with the utmost attention instead. She heard nothing, however, but a very significant "hum" on the part of the Spanish duenna, who was the perfect representation of extreme caution—and a profound sigh on that of the queen. She looked up immediately.