“Possibly not—possibly not; but a sovereign must be advised by his ministers. It is indispensable to the prosperity of the State.”
Mademoiselle de Hautefort was silent, but something of the contempt she felt might have been seen in her expressive eyes.
“I do not feel disposed,” continued he, “to face the anger of the Queen-mother when she hears my determination. She would use violent language to me that might make me forget I am her son. Richelieu must break it to her. He can do it while I am away. Agitation injures my health, it deranges my digestion. I have enough to bear from my wife, from whom it is not so easy to escape——”
Again he stopped abruptly, as if he were about to say more than he intended.
Mademoiselle de Hautefort, ever on the lookout for all that concerned her mistress the Queen, glanced at him with sullen curiosity. Her eyes read his thoughts.
“Your Majesty is concealing something from me?” she said.
“Well, yes,”—and he hesitated—“it is a subject too delicate to mention.”
“Have you, then, withdrawn your confidence from me, Sire?” asked she, affecting the deepest concern.
“No, no—never. I tell you everything—yet, I blush to allude to such a subject.”
“What subject, Sire? Does it concern her Majesty?”