Louis’s object, in the present instance, was to inform the Queen of the journey he was about to make into the neighbourhood of Perpignan, in order to confirm the inhabitants of Roussillon in their new allegiance to the crown of France; and Cinq Mars, who had always sincerely wished the welfare of Anne of Austria, took this opportunity of insinuating to the King, that to show publicly his restored confidence in the Queen, so far from lessening his authority, even in appearance, would be in truth only asserting his own dignity, from which the proceedings of Richelieu had so greatly derogated.
De Blenau and Pauline followed a step or two behind the Queen and Madame de Beaumont, and would willingly have lingered still longer by themselves; but as something must always be sacrificed to appearance, they quickened their pace as Anne of Austria approached the door of the Salle Ronde, and came up with her just as she entered the room in which the principal part of the French court was assembled. The moment she appeared, Louis advanced towards the Queen from the brilliant circle in which he stood, and embraced her affectionately. “Welcome, my fair lady,” said he. “I see you have brought the new returned exile with you.—Monsieur de Blenau, I am glad to see you at court;—this is a pleasanter place than where we met last.”
“I can assure you, Sire,” replied De Blenau, “that I will never be willingly in circumstances to meet your Majesty there again.”
“I do not doubt it, I do not doubt it,” said the King. “You should thank Heaven that delivered you from such peril, Sir Count.—Madam,” he continued, turning to the Queen, “I requested to see you, not only for the pleasure which your presence must always give, but to inform you, that affairs of state will shortly call me to Narbonne, in Languedoc, from whence I shall return with all convenient speed.”
“Your Majesty soon leaves St. Germain’s,” replied the Queen. “I do not think you love it for a sojourn, as in other days.”
“Not so,” answered Louis; “so well do I love it, that I had purposed to have worn out the rest of my days here, had not the duties of my station called me hence: but my return will be speedy if God give me life.—What man can say how long he may remain? and I feel many a warning that my time will be but short in this world.—Ha! what mean those drops in your eyes?—I did not know, Anne, that such were your feelings.” And he pressed the Queen’s hand, which he had continued to retain in his.
“Oh Louis!” replied Anne of Austria, and by that simple exclamation conveyed a more delicate reproach to the heart of her husband than she could have done by any other expression in the range of language. Louis felt it, and drawing her arm kindly through his own, he proposed aloud that the whole party should walk forth upon the terrace. It was the Queen’s favourite spot, and she easily understood that it was meant as some atonement for many a former slight. Those, too, who stood round and saw what had taken place, began to perceive that a new star was dawning in the horizon, and turned their eyes to watch its progress and court its influence.
The King and Queen were followed by the greater part of the court; and during the walk Louis continued to manifest that kindness towards his wife, which had it been earlier shown, might have given him a life of happiness. “Let me beg you, Madam,” said he, as at length they turned to enter the Palace, “not only to be careful of our children, for that I am sure you will be, but also to be careful of their mother, for my sake.”
The Queen’s feelings were overpowering; the tears rolled rapidly down her cheeks, taking from her all power of utterance, and quitting the King, after pressing his hand to her lips, she retired to her own apartments, to indulge in solitude the new and delightful emotions which her husband’s unexpected kindness had excited.