"Ah! Your Majesty; I'd rather die than wrong my royal mistress, but what I am doing can't harm her; it is only meant to aid her."
"Confide all to me," said the king, in a soft voice,--himself displeased at what he was saying,--"you could not so demean yourself as to be a spy on the words and actions of others, nor could I desire or permit you to do so; but it is necessary for me to know how the queen can be helped out of her present trouble, and, therefore, I ought to be informed of what is told her, and how matters are discussed here."
"Certainly, Your Majesty," replied Madame Leoni, and, having apologized for the ugly words, she informed him how the physician had spoken of the origin of the mud in the highways, how a pure drop from the heavenly clouds mingles with the dust of the road; and that they had gone on to talk of sculpture, of haut relief and bas relief.
Madame Leoni could only furnish a disconnected statement, but the king already knew enough.
CHAPTER XVIII.
On the following morning, the king sent word to the queen that he must see her.
He hastened to her.
They were both alone in the apartment.
The king was about to embrace his wife.
She begged him to be seated.