"You are right, Sir," admitted the Tuscan Princess, no longer able or anxious to restrain her resentment; "we were speaking of you, and you had just cause to dread the results of such a conversation. We were expatiating upon your treachery, your ingratitude, and your vices; and the subject was a copious one."
"Ah, Madame!" expostulated Richelieu, as he fell upon his knees before his irritated mistress. "What have I done to forfeit your favour? How have I sacrificed your esteem?"
"Miserabile! miserabile!" cried the Queen-mother; "dare you ask how? But it is idle to bandy words with such as you; teme mia vendetta!"
"At least, Madame, suffer M. le Ministre to justify himself," stammered out Louis; "he may perhaps convince you that you have wronged him."
"Wronged him!" echoed Marie with a contemptuous gesture. "Even his ready eloquence must prove powerless beside the experience of the past. Henceforward there can be no trust or fellowship between the widow of Henry the Great and her discarded servant."
"In that case, Sire," said the Cardinal, rising from his abject posture at the feet of the Queen-mother, and throwing himself at those of the King, "I can no longer offer my unworthy services to your Majesty, as it is not for me to contend against the will of my royal mistress."
Terrified by this threat, which renewed his sense of utter helplessness, Louis faintly endeavoured to intercede in behalf of the man upon whom he had so long leant for support; but Marie impetuously interposed.
"You have heard my decision, Sir," she said haughtily; "and it is now for you to choose between your mother and your valet." [137]