"Do not praise me too highly, madame," said the duchesse, somewhat anxiously.
"I could never praise you as much as you deserve to be praised."
"And yet, age and misfortune effect a terrible change in people, madame."
"So much the better; for the beautiful, the haughty, the adored duchesse of former days might have answered me ungratefully, 'I do not wish for anything from you.' Heaven be praised! The misfortunes you speak of have indeed worked a change in you, for you will now, perhaps, answer me, 'I accept.'"
The duchesse's look and smile soon changed at this conclusion, and she no longer attempted to act a false part.
"Speak, dearest, what do you want?"
"I must first explain to you—"
"Do so unhesitatingly."
"Well, then, your majesty can confer the greatest, the most ineffable pleasure upon me."
"What is it?" said the queen, a little distant in her manner, from an uneasiness of feeling produced by this remark. "But do not forget, my good Chevreuse, that I am quite as much under my son's influence as I was formerly under my husband's."