“If I have ventured to intercede for the Queen-mother,” said she with dignity, “it is because she implored me to do so. She wept upon my bosom. Her heart was all but broken. I comforted her as a daughter. I promised her to use such feeble powers as I had, to soften your heart, Sire. It is a sacred pledge I am discharging.”
“You are a couple of hypocrites!” exclaimed Louis with great irritation, facing round upon her. “You hate each other. From my mother I have freed myself; but you—” and he surveyed her savagely from head to foot—“you, Madame Anne of Austria, you remain.”
“Yes, I remain,” returned Anne, “until, as I am told, you crave a dispensation from the Pope and send me back to Madrid.” These last words were spoken slowly and with marked emphasis. “I am a childless queen,” and she shot a bitter glance at Louis, who now stood rooted to the spot and listened to her with an expression of speechless amazement.
“Who told you, Madame, that I sought a dispensation from the Pope, and to send you back to Madrid?” asked Louis sharply. Then, without waiting for an answer, he put his hand to his forehead as if some sudden thought had struck him, knit his brows, and was lost in thought.
“I have heard so, no matter how,” answered the Queen coolly, “and on excellent authority. Sire,” she cried passionately, no longer able to restrain her feelings, “you use me too ill—rather than suffer as I do I will leave France for ever; I will not bear the mockery of being called your wife—I would rather bury myself in a convent at Madrid.”
Louis was so completely abstracted, that although he had asked her a question, he had forgotten to listen to her reply. Now he caught at her last word.
“Madrid? Yes, Madame, I believe it. Your heart is there. I know it but too well. Would you had never left Madrid! Ever since you came into France you have desired my death that you might wed a comelier consort.”
Louis could scarcely articulate, so violently was he excited. Anne did not stir, only her glowing eyes followed, as it were, each word he uttered.
“You talk of the Queen-mother, do you know that she warned me long ago that you were dishonouring me?”
“Oh, Sire, if you forget who I am,” exclaimed the Queen, “remember at least that I am a woman!” and she burst into tears, and for a few moments sobbed bitterly.