De Blenau smiled. “Nay, nay,” replied he, “that would not be like a gallant Knight and true, either to desert my Queen or my Lady Love. Besides, I am inclined to believe that this journey to Chantilly bodes us good rather than harm. For near three months past, the King has been there almost alone with Cinq Mars, who is as noble a heart as e’er the world produced, and is well affected towards your Majesty.—So I am looking forward to brighter days.”
“Well, we shall see,” said the Queen, with a doubtful shake of the head. “You are young, De Blenau, and full of hopes—all that has passed away with me.—Now let us go. I have ordered the carriages to wait at the end of the terrace, and we will walk thither:—perhaps it may be the last time I shall ever see my favourite walk; for who knows if any of us will ever return?”
With these melancholy anticipations, the Queen took the arm of Madame de Beaumont, and, followed by the rest, led the way to the terrace, from which was to be seen the vast and beautiful view extending from St. Germain’s over Paris to the country beyond, taking in all the windings of the river Seine, with the rich woods through which it flowed.
The light mists of an autumnal morning still hung about the various dells and slopes, softening, but not obscuring the landscape; and every now and then the sunbeams would catch upon a tower or a spire in the distant landscape, and create a glittering spot amidst the dark brown woods round about.
It is ever a bright scene, that view from St. Germain, and many have been the royal and the fair, and the noble, whose feet have trod the terrace of Henry the Fourth; but seldom, full seldom, has there been there, a group of greater loveliness or honour than that which then followed Anne of Austria from the Palace. The melancholy which hung over the whole party took from them any wish for farther conversation, than a casual comment upon the beauties of the view; and thus they walked on nearly in silence, till they had approached within a few hundred yards of the extremity, where they were awaited by the carriages prepared for the Queen and her ladies, together with the attendants of De Blenau.
At that moment the quick clanging step of armed men was heard following, and all with one impulse turned to see who it was that thus seemed to pursue them.
The party which had excited their attention, consisted of a soldier-like old man, who seemed to have ridden hard, and half-a-dozen chasseurs of the guard, who followed him at about ten or twelve paces distance.
“It is the Count de Thiery,” said De Blenau; “I know him well: as good an old soldier as ever lived.”
Notwithstanding De Blenau’s commendation, Anne of Austria appeared little satisfied with the Count’s approach, and continued walking on towards the carriages with a degree of anxiety in her eye, which speedily communicated feelings of the same kind to her attendants. Pauline, unacquainted with the intrigues and anxieties of the court, saw from the countenances of all around that something was to be apprehended; and magnifying the danger from uncertainty in regard to its nature, she instinctively crept close to De Blenau, as certain of finding protection there.
Judging at once the cause of De Thiery’s coming, De Blenau drew the arm of Pauline through his, and lingered a step behind, while the rest of the party proceeded.