“Madame! Madame!” had been Putange’s cry, as he sprang forward in alarm and self-reproach.
He stood now almost between them, looking from one to the other in bewilderment. Neither spoke.
“You cried out, Madame,” M. de Putange reminded her, and Buckingham may well have wondered whether presently he would be receiving M. de Putange’s sword in his vitals. He must have known that his life now hung upon her answer.
“I called you, that was all,” said the Queen, in a voice that she strove to render calm. “I confess that I was startled to find myself alone with M. L’Ambassadeur. Do not let it occur again, M. de Putange!”
The equerry bowed in silence. His itching fingers fell away from his sword-hilt, and he breathed more freely. He had no illusions as to what must have happened. But he was relieved there were to be no complications. The others now coming up with them, the party thereafter kept together until presently Buckingham and Lord Holland took their leave.
On the morrow the last stage of the escorting journey was accomplished. A little way beyond Amiens the Court took its leave of Henrietta Maria, entrusting her now to Buckingham and his followers, who were to convey her safely to Charles.
It was a very contrite and downcast Buckingham who came now to Anne of Austria as she sat in her coach with the Princesse de Conti for only companion.
“Madame,” he said, “I am come to take my leave.”
“Fare you well, Monsieur l’Ambassadeur,” she said, and her voice was warm and gentle, as if to show him that she bore no malice.
“I am come to ask your pardon, madame,” he said, in a low voice.