“Monsieur—Gaston—let me go.” And she disengages herself with difficulty. Monsieur now rose. “Where is the Duchesse de Chevreuse?” asks Anne, not knowing what to say.
“No fear for her: she is well attended,” replies Monsieur in a voice full of vexation. “Every one is in good luck but me. I never saw a man so madly in love as poor Chalais, and the Duchess returns it.”
The Queen is now walking onwards at as rapid a pace as the uncertain light permitted, along the terrace. Monsieur follows her.
“Yes—in love,”—and Anne laughs her silvery laugh; “but that is not the way I would give my heart if I gave it at all, which I don’t think I am tempted to do.” And she looked back archly at Monsieur, whose countenance fell. “Chalais is one among so many,” continues the Queen, trying to resume her usual manner. “The Duchess is very benevolent.”
“Alas, my poor Henry!” answers Monsieur, “with him it is an overwhelming passion. Louvigni and the others admire and court the Duchess; but they are not like Chalais—he worships her. The Duchess is a coquette who uses him for her own purposes. She is now inciting him to head a dangerous conspiracy against the Cardinal. Chalais has opened the matter to me; but they go far—dangerously far. I cannot pledge myself to them as yet.”
“Oh, Gaston!” exclaims the Queen, stopping, and laying her hand eagerly on his arm; “if you love me as you say you do, join in any conspiracy against the Cardinal.”
The Queen speaks with vehemence. A sudden fire shot into her eyes, as she turns towards Monsieur. Her delicate hand still rests for an instant upon him, and is then withdrawn.
“Fair sister,” replies the Duke, “You cannot pretend to misunderstand me. For your service I would risk anything—how much more a tussle with an arrogant minister, who has outraged me—as much as he has you. Perhaps, Anne, I would risk too much for your sake.” And the enamoured look again comes into his eyes. But the Queen draws back, and turns her head away. “Deign to command me, sister—Queen,” he adds, “only to command me, and I will obey.”
Anne is now walking onwards. For a few moments she does not reply.
“If you would serve me—let Richelieu be banished,” says she at last imperiously. “I care not whither. Nothing is too bad for him. He has dared to insult me. You, Gaston, are safe, even if you fail. My brother will receive you at Madrid; I will take care of that.”