Now Mancini was a nephew of Mazarin’s and was as much hated by Louis as the cardinal himself, although placed near his person by the minister.
And the king went out of the room without either embracing his mother or even bowing to the cardinal.
“Good,” said Mazarin, “I am glad to see that his majesty has been brought up with a hatred of dissimulation.”
“Why do you say that?” asked the queen, almost timidly.
“Why, it seems to me that the way in which he left us needs no explanation. Besides, his majesty takes no pains to conceal how little affection he has for me. That, however, does not hinder me from being entirely devoted to his service, as I am to that of your majesty.”
“I ask your pardon for him, cardinal,” said the queen; “he is a child, not yet able to understand his obligations to you.”
The cardinal smiled.
“But,” continued the queen, “you have doubtless come for some important purpose. What is it, then?”
Mazarin sank into a chair with the deepest melancholy painted on his countenance.
“It is likely,” he replied, “that we shall soon be obliged to separate, unless you love me well enough to follow me to Italy.”