De Launay gazed at her amazedly;—why did she ask of what she knew so well?
“Madam, to answer that is not within my province!”
She was silent, breathing quickly. Great tears gathered on her lashes, but did not fall.
“When saw you his Majesty last?”
“But three hours since, Madam! He bade me leave him alone, saying he would walk a while in the further grounds away from the sight of the sea. He had no mind, he said, to look upon the passing away of Lotys!”
A strange grey pallor crept over the Queen’s face. She stood proudly erect, yet tottered as though about to fall. Teresa de Launay ran to her in terror.
“Dearest Madam!” cried the trembling girl—“Be comforted! Be patient! The King will come!”
“He will never come!” said the Queen in a low choked voice;—“Never again—never, never again! I feel—I know—that I have lost him for ever! He has gone—but where?—O God!—where!”
“Madam!” said Sir Roger, shaken to the soul by the sight of her suppressed agony—“That paper in your hand—”
“This paper,” she said, with a convulsive effort at calmness, “makes me Regent till the return of my son, the Crown Prince—and—at the same time—bids me farewell! Farewell!—and why farewell? Oh, faithless servant!” and she advanced a step, fixing her burning eyes on the stricken De Launay—“I thought you loved me!”