"Mme. Marie, and you—Mme. de Lauraguais—are requested to retire to the apartment which you have occupied since quitting the abbaye. There—later—some one will go to you."
He raised his hand and pointed to the door which led into the antechamber, and so to the corridor. For the shadow of an instant madame hesitated, her eyes passing in a long glance from Richelieu's unreadable face to the great, silent bed. Then, with a slight gesture to her sister, she moved slowly, unsteadily, towards the door which the bishop designated. In silence the five men saw them go. Louis XV., closed in by his curtains, silent, passive, heard all, and guessed the unspoken; surmised Richelieu's loyal treachery, read madame's heart from her steps, realized that his time for repentance approached, deplored the necessity, thought of his dinner, and rather hoped that existence might not be too much prolonged.
While Falconet* was hastily summoned to attend the King, while Monseigneur made humble explanation to his relative, and Richelieu adroitly assisted in carrying out the bishop's ideas for the forthcoming confession, absolution, and unction of his Majesty, the two sisters had gained their apartment. Elise, by this time on the way to hysterics, threw herself desperately on the bed. The sister watched her with pale, silent scorn. Her arms were folded. Her foot tapped nervously on the floor. She said not a word.
* The King's consulting physician.
"Madame," whispered Antoinette, at last, "what shall I do?"
Madame's eyes turned towards her for an instant. "Nothing," she said, shortly.
Elise's woman was busy over her with sal-volatile, tears, entreaties, and a fan. By degrees she grew quieter, forgetting herself sufficiently at last to look at her sister.
"Marie—why do you look so? What are you doing?" she asked.
"I? I am waiting."
"Waiting! For what?"