"Because, Anne, I mean that for me it shall be the beginning."
"Of what?"
"Of freedom—of life—of love."
"Love!"
"Yes."
The Duchess was puzzled. She drew slightly away from him. "Then there is some one—some one of whom I know nothing."
"Yes, Anne, some one of whom you know nothing. Would you hear who it is? No, remain where you are! That some one whom I love, whom I have come to to-day, with whom now I am going to plead for life, is your real self. You have forgotten it in life here, my Anne. You have forgotten, in the midst of your estate, in the midst of the Court ways, what you were before all that was part of you. Listen. We played together, you and I, and Alexandre and Henri, and Louise and Pauline, in the gardens of the old château, by the river-bank, and through the forest. We were the youngest, you and I. Alexandre was our leader, and we obeyed him as our general. I liked you then better than the other girls, though you always mocked at me for a baby, while Louise was gentle, and Pauline always in difficulty. And after—we separated, all of us. You were sent to the Ursulines, I to Languedoc with a tutor, Alexandre to Paris. It was there in the old Hôtel de Mailly, at Alexandre's wedding with Louise, that again we came together. Ah, Anne, Anne, I think you have not forgotten what followed! The first scandal, Alexandre's death, Louise's life in the little apartments, how the King grew weary, how little Pauline was brought from her convent, how she, too, was sacrificed to infamy, and how she died—how she was murdered, Anne, you—"
"Stop, Claude!"
"Not yet. Pauline was murdered, I say—poisoned, in her sickness. And then, Anne, then the way was opened for you by Mme. de Mazarin's death. How should the rest of us have guessed—your father, I, Henri, already unhappy with Mme. de Mailly-Nesle—how should we have guessed that you, too, should have followed in the footsteps of your sisters? Mon Dieu, Anne! In your widowhood, after Maurepas took the Hôtel Mazarin, Henri's house was open to you. Why did you choose instead to put yourself under the protection, not of the Queen, not of Louise, but of his Majesty? And then—the end was so swift. You drove Louise pitilessly away—you ruined d'Agenois with your coquetries—you infatuated the King with your daring and your loftiness; your title was bestowed; you reigned; and then comes the last: my history with you. I know your life, Anne, from its beginning to to-day. You know what my feeling has always been. And now, when I am so nearly at the end of hope, you would have me make no resistance to fate; you would have me acquiesce; you would have me bid you good-bye with de Gêvres' manner, and depart, quietly. I have right to more than that."
"All this is well enough if you wish it, little one. Neither do those long 'recollections' of thine disturb me, save that they are very stupid, my Claude. But now, how shall you continue? Are there yet more of them?" Evidently the Duchess was not overpleased with the interview, so far.