“I fear me,” answered the Queen, in a low tone, “that the storm is about to burst upon our head. A servant informs me, that riding this morning, shortly after sunrise, near that small open space which separates this, the forest of Laye, from the great wood of Mantes, he saw a large party of the Cardinal’s guard winding along towards the wooden bridge, at which we usually cross the river.”
“Oh I think nothing of that,” replied the Count. “Your Majesty must remember, that this Cardinal has his men scattered all over the country:—but, at all events, we can take the stone bridge farther down. At what time does your Majesty depart? I will but pay my compliments to these ladies, and then go to command the attendance of my train, which will at all events afford some sort of escort.”
During this dialogue, the Queen had looked from time to time towards the group of ladies who remained in conversation at the other end of the apartment; and with that unsteadiness of thought peculiar to her character, she soon forgot all her fears and anxieties, as she saw the dark eye of Pauline de Beaumont wander every now and then with a furtive glance towards De Blenau, and then suddenly fall to the ground, or fix upon vacancy, as if afraid of being caught in such employment.
Easily reading every line expressive of a passion to which she had once been so susceptible, the Queen turned with a playful smile to De Blenau. “Come,” said she, “I will save you the trouble of paying your compliments to more than one of those ladies, and she shall stand your proxy to all the rest. Pauline—Mademoiselle de Beaumont,” she continued, raising her voice, “come hither, Flower! I would speak a word with you.”
Pauline came forward—not unhappy in truth, but with the blood rushing up into her cheeks and forehead, till timidity became actual pain, while the clear cold blue eye of Mademoiselle de Hauteford followed her across the room, as if she wondered at feelings she herself had apparently never experienced.
De Blenau advanced and held out his hand. Pauline instantly placed hers in it, and in the confusion of the moment laid the other upon it also.
“Well,” said the Queen with a smile, “De Blenau, you must be satisfied now. Nay, be not ashamed, Pauline; it is all right, and pure, and natural.”
“I am not ashamed, Madam,” replied Pauline, seeming to gain courage from the touch of her lover; “I have done De Blenau wrong in ever doubting one so good and so noble as he is: but he will forgive me now, I know, and I will never do him wrong again.”
I need not proceed farther with all this. De Blenau and Pauline enjoyed one or two moments of unmingled happiness, and then the Queen reminded them that he had yet to dress for his journey, and to prepare his servants to accompany the carriages. This, however, was soon done, and in less than half an hour De Blenau rejoined the party in the saloon of the Palace.
“Now, De Blenau,” said the Queen, as soon as she saw him, “you are prepared for travelling at all points. For once be ruled, and instead of accompanying me to Chantilly, make the best of your way to Franche Comté, or to Flanders, for I much fear that the Cardinal has not yet done with you. I will take care of your interests while you are gone, even better than I would my own; and I promise you that as soon as you are in safety, Madame De Beaumont and Pauline shall follow you, and you may be happy surely, though abroad, for a few short years, till Richelieu’s power or his life be passed away.”