"You and I," adds the Queen, in a voice strangely monotonous, "are indeed old friends and comrades as well as cousins."
"You have not a truer friend in whole France than I am," answers the Duke vehemently, and he advances a step or two towards the window, near which the Queen sits, raises his hand to emphasise his words, and lets it fall so heavily on a table near as to make the whole room echo. The Queen still smiles graciously.
"Yes, Madame, I am no courtier; I hate courts; but before you made that Italian facchino your favourite you relied on Beaufort." As he pronounced the Cardinal's name his face hardens and his hands clench themselves; an almost imperceptible shudder passes over the Queen. Then he continues:—
"Was it not to Beaufort that you entrusted the sacred person of his Majesty and your own safety after the death of your husband, before the Regency was settled?"
Anne of Austria bows her head in silence. She is evidently determined not to take offence. If any one else had dared to mention the Cardinal to her in such language she would have ordered him to the Bastille.
Had the Duke been less giddy this knowledge ought to have curbed him, especially after the warning he had received; but his thoughts are now passing into a different channel, and he heeds it not.
"Yes, cousin, I have known you long, and closely," is the Queen's cautious rejoinder. "You have been at Rambouillet, Prince," she continues; "have you had good sport? The canals there are, I am told, full of fat carp. Do you love fishing?"
The Duke stares at her without replying. The Queen, who appears to desire to continue the conversation, yet to avoid all discussion, still speaks—
"My son will grow up to be a keen sportsman, I hope. The royal forests must be better guarded. Did you and the Duc de Nemours find any deer at Rambouillet?"