While the Comte de la Fere was proceeding on his way toParis, accompanied by Raoul, the Palais-Royal was thetheatre wherein a scene of what Moliere would have calledexcellent comedy was being performed. Four days had elapsedsince his marriage, and Monsieur, having breakfasted veryhurriedly, passed into his ante-chamber, frowning and out oftemper. The repast had not been over-agreeable. Madame hadhad breakfast served in her own apartment, and Monsieur hadbreakfasted almost alone; the Chevalier de Lorraine andManicamp were the only persons present at the meal whichlasted three-quarters of an hour without a single syllablehaving been uttered. Manicamp, who was less intimate withhis royal highness than the Chevalier de Lorraine, vainlyendeavored to detect, from the expression of the prince'sface, what had made him so ill-humored. The Chevalier deLorraine, who had no occasion to speculate about anything,inasmuch as he knew all, ate his breakfast with thatextraordinary appetite which the troubles of one's friendsbut stimulates, and enjoyed at the same time both Monsieur'sill-humor and the vexation of Manicamp. He seemed delighted,while he went on eating, to detain the prince, who was veryimpatient to move, still at table. Monsieur at timesrepented the ascendancy which he had permitted the Chevalierde Lorraine to acquire over him, and which exempted thelatter from any observance of etiquette towards him.Monsieur was now in one of those moods, but he dreaded asmuch as he liked the chevalier, and contented himself withnursing his anger without betraying it. Every now and thenMonsieur raised his eyes to the ceiling, then lowered themtowards the slices of pate which the chevalier wasattacking, and finally, not caring to betray his resentment,he gesticulated in a manner which Harlequin might haveenvied. At last, however, Monsieur could control himself nolonger, and at the dessert, rising from the table inexcessive wrath, as we have related, he left the Chevalierde Lorraine to finish his breakfast as he pleased. SeeingMonsieur rise from the table, Manicamp, napkin in hand, rosealso. Monsieur ran rather than walked, towards theante-chamber, where, noticing an usher in attendance, hegave him some directions in a low tone of voice. Thenturning back again, but avoiding passing through thebreakfast apartment, he crossed several rooms, with theintention of seeking the queen-mother in her oratory, whereshe usually remained.

It was about ten o'clock in the morning. Anne of Austria wasengaged in writing as Monsieur entered. The queen-mother wasextremely attached to her son, for he was handsome in personand amiable in disposition. He was, in fact, moreaffectionate, and, it might be, more effeminate than theking. He pleased his mother by those trifling sympathizingattentions all women are glad to receive. Anne of Austria,who would have been rejoiced to have had a daughter, almostfound in this, her favorite son, the attentions, solicitude,and playful manners of a child of twelve years of age. Allthe time he passed with his mother he employed in admiringher arms, in giving his opinion upon her cosmetics, andreceipts for compounding essences, in which she was veryparticular; and then, too, he kissed her hands and cheeks inthe most childlike and endearing manner, and had always somesweetmeats to offer her, or some new style of dress torecommend. Anne of Austria loved the king, or rather theregal power in her eldest son; Louis XIV. representedlegitimacy by right divine. With the king, her character wasthat of the queen-mother, with Philip she was simply themother. The latter knew that, of all places of refuge, amother's heart is the most compassionate and surest. Whenquite a child he always fled there for refuge when he andhis brother quarrelled, often, after having struck him,which constituted the crime of high treason on his part,after certain engagements with hands and nails, in which theking and his rebellious subject indulged in theirnight-dresses respecting the right to a disputed bed, havingtheir servant Laporte as umpire, - Philip, conqueror, butterrified at victory, used to flee to his mother to obtainreinforcements from her, or at least the assurance offorgiveness, which Louis XIV. granted with difficulty, andafter an interval. Anne, from this habit of peaceableintervention, succeeded in arranging the disputes of hersons, and in sharing, at the same time, all their secrets.The king, somewhat jealous of that maternal solicitude whichwas bestowed particularly upon his brother, felt disposed toshow towards Anne of Austria more submission and attachmentthan his character really dictated. Anne of Austria hadadopted this line of conduct especially towards the youngqueen. In this manner she ruled with almost despotic swayover the royal household, and she was already preparing herbatteries to govern with the same absolute authority thehousehold of her second son. Anne experienced almost afeeling of pride whenever she saw any one enter herapartment with woe-begone looks, pale cheeks, or red eyes,gathering from appearances that assistance was requiredeither by the weakest or the most rebellious. She waswriting, we have said, when Monsieur entered her oratory,not with red eyes or pale cheeks, but restless, out oftemper, and annoyed. With an absent air he kissed hismother's hands, and sat himself down before receiving herpermission to do so. Considering the strict rules ofetiquette established at the court of Anne of Austria, thisforgetfulness of customary civilities was a sign ofpreoccupation, especially on Philip's part, who, of his ownaccord, observed a respect towards her of a somewhatexaggerated character. If, therefore, he so notoriouslyfailed in this regard, there must be a serious cause for it.

"What is the matter, Philip?" inquired Anne of Austria,turning towards her son.

"A good many things," murmured the prince, in a doleful toneof voice.

"You look like a man who has a great deal to do," said thequeen, laying down her pen. Philip frowned, but did notreply. "Among the various subjects which occupy your mind,"said Anne of Austria, "there must surely be one that absorbsit more than others."

"One indeed has occupied me more than any other."

"Well, what is it? I am listening."

Philip opened his mouth as if to express all the troubleshis mind was filled with, and which he seemed to be waitingonly for an opportunity of declaring. But he suddenly becamesilent, and a sigh alone expressed all that his heart wasoverflowing with.

"Come, Philip, show a little firmness," said thequeen-mother. "When one has to complain of anything, it isgenerally an individual who is the cause of it. Am I notright?"

"I do not say no, madame."

"Whom do you wish to speak about? Come, take courage."

"In fact, madame, what I might possibly have to say must bekept a profound secret; for when a lady is in the case - - "

"Ah! you are speaking of Madame, then?" inquired thequeen-mother, with a feeling of the liveliest curiosity.

"Yes."

"Well, then, if you wish to speak of Madame, do not hesitateto do so. I am your mother, and she is no more than astranger to me. Yet, as she is my daughter-in-law, restassured I shall be interested, even were it for your ownsake alone, in hearing all you may have to say about her."

"Pray tell me, madame, in your turn, whether you have notremarked something?"

"`Something'! Philip? Your words almost frighten me, fromtheir want of meaning. What do you mean by `something'?"

"Madame is pretty, certainly."

"No doubt of it."

"Yet not altogether beautiful."

"No, but as she grows older, she will probably becomestrikingly beautiful. You must have remarked the changewhich a few years have already made in her. Her beauty willimprove more and more; she is now only sixteen years of age.At fifteen I was, myself, very thin; but even as she is atpresent, Madame is very pretty."

"And consequently others have remarked it."

"Undoubtedly, for a woman of ordinary rank is noticed - andwith still greater reason a princess."

"She has been well brought up, I suppose?"

"Madame Henrietta, her mother, is a woman somewhat cold inmanner, slightly pretentious, but full of noble thoughts.The princess's education may have been neglected, but herprinciples, I believe, are good. Such at least was theopinion I formed of her when she resided in France; but sheafterwards returned to England, and I am ignorant what mayhave occurred there."

"What do you mean?"

"Simply that there are some heads naturally giddy, which areeasily turned by prosperity."

"That is the very word, madame. I think the princess rathergiddy."

"We must not exaggerate, Philip; she is clever and witty,and has a certain amount of coquetry very natural in a youngwoman; but this defect in persons of high rank and positionis a great advantage at a court. A princess who is tingedwith coquetry usually forms a brilliant court around her;her smile stimulates luxury, arouses wit, and even courage;the nobles, too, fight better for a prince whose wife isbeautiful."

"Thank you extremely, madame," said Philip, with sometemper; "you really have drawn some very alarming picturesfor me."

"In what respect?" asked the queen, with pretendedsimplicity.

"You know, madame," said Philip, dolefully, "whether I hador had not a very great dislike to getting married."

"Now, indeed, you alarm me. You have some serious cause ofcomplaint against Madame."

"I do not precisely say it is serious."

"In that case, then, throw aside your doleful looks. If youshow yourself to others in your present state, people willtake you for a very unhappy husband."

"The fact is," replied Philip, "I am not altogethersatisfied as a husband, and I shall not be sorry if othersknow it."

"For shame, Philip."

"Well, then, madame, I will tell you frankly that I do notunderstand the life I am required to lead."

"Explain yourself."

"My wife does not seem to belong to me; she is alwaysleaving me for some reason or another. In the mornings thereare visits, correspondences, and toilettes; in the evenings,balls and concerts."

"You are jealous, Philip."

"I! Heaven forbid. Let others act the part of a jealoushusband, not I. But I am annoyed."

"All these things you reproach your wife with are perfectlyinnocent, and, so long as you have nothing of greaterimportance - - "

"Yet, listen; without being very blamable, a woman canexcite a good deal of uneasiness. Certain visitors may bereceived, certain preferences shown, which expose youngwomen to remark, and which are enough to drive out of theirsenses even those husbands who are least disposed to bejealous."

"Ah! now we are coming to the real point at last, and notwithout some difficulty. You speak of frequent visits, andcertain preferences - very good; for the last hour we havebeen beating about the bush, and at last you have broachedthe true question. This is more serious than I thought. Itis possible, then, that Madame can have given you groundsfor these complaints against her?"

"Precisely so."

"What, your wife, married only four days ago, prefers someother person to yourself? Take care, Philip, you exaggerateyour grievances; in wishing to prove everything, you provenothing."

The prince, bewildered by his mother's serious manner wishedto reply, but he could only stammer out some unintelligiblewords.

"You draw back, then?" said Anne of Austria. "I prefer that,as it is an acknowledgment of your mistake."

"No!" exclaimed Philip, "I do not draw back, and I willprove all I asserted. I spoke of preference and of visits,did I not? Well, listen."

Anne of Austria prepared herself to listen, with that loveof gossip which the best woman living and the best mother,were she a queen even, always finds in being mixed up withthe petty squabbles of a household.

"Well," said Philip, "tell me one thing."

"What is that?"

"Why does my wife retain an English court about her?" saidPhilip, as he crossed his arms and looked his mothersteadily in the face, as if he were convinced that she couldnot answer the question.

"For a very simple reason," returned Anne of Austria;"because the English are her countrymen, because they haveexpended large sums in order to accompany her to France, andbecause it would be hardly polite - not politic, certainly- to dismiss abruptly those members of the English nobilitywho have not shrunk from any devotion or from anysacrifice."

"A wonderful sacrifice indeed," returned Philip, "to deserta wretched country to come to a beautiful one, where agreater effect can be produced for a crown than can beprocured elsewhere for four! Extraordinary devotion, really,to travel a hundred leagues in company with a woman one isin love with!"

"In love, Philip! think what you are saying. Who is in lovewith Madame?"

"The Duke of Buckingham. Perhaps you will defend him, too."

Anne of Austria blushed and smiled at the same time. Thename of the Duke of Buckingham recalled certainrecollections of a very tender and melancholy nature. "TheDuke of Buckingham?" she murmured.

"Yes; one of those arm-chair soldiers - - "

"The Buckinghams are loyal and brave," said Anne of Austria,courageously.

"This is too bad; my own mother takes the part of my wife'slover against me," exclaimed Philip, incensed to such anextent that his weak organization was effected almost totears.

"Philip, my son," exclaimed Anne of Austria, "such anexpression is unworthy of you. Your wife has no lover and,had she one, it would not be the Duke of Buckingham. Themembers of that family, I repeat are loyal and discreet, andthe rights of hospitality are sure to be respected by them."

"The Duke of Buckingham is an Englishman, madame," saidPhilip; "and may I ask if the English so very religiouslyrespect what belongs to princes of France?"

Anne blushed a second time, and turned aside under thepretext of taking her pen from her desk again, but inreality to conceal her confusion from her son. "Really,Philip," she said, "you seem to discover expressions for thepurpose of embarrassing me, and your anger blinds you whileit alarms me; reflect a little."

"There is no need for reflection, madame. I can see with myown eyes."

"Well, and what do you see?"

"That Buckingham never quits my wife. He presumes to makepresents to her, and she ventures to accept them. Yesterdayshe was talking about sachets a la violette; well, ourFrench perfumers, you know very well, madame, for you haveover and over again asked for it without success - ourFrench perfumers, I say, have never been able to procurethis scent. The duke, however, wore about him a sachet a laviolette, and I am sure that the one my wife has came fromhim."

"Indeed, monsieur," said Anne of Austria, "you build yourpyramids on needle points; be careful. What harm, I ask you,can there be in a man giving to his countrywoman a receiptfor a new essence? These strange ideas, I protest, painfullyrecall your father to me; he who so frequently and sounjustly made me suffer."

"The Duke of Buckingham's father was probably more reservedand more respectful than his son," said Philip,thoughtlessly, not perceiving how deeply he had wounded hismother's feelings. The queen turned pale, and pressed herclenched hands upon her bosom; but, recovering herselfimmediately, she said, "You came here with some intention oranother, I suppose?"

"Certainly."

"What was it?"

"I came, madame, intending to complain energetically, and toinform you that I will not submit to such behavior from theDuke of Buckingham."

"What do you intend to do, then?"

"I shall complain to the king."

"And what do you expect the king to reply?"

"Very well, then," said Monsieur, with an expression ofstern determination on his countenance, which offered asingular contrast to its usual gentleness. "Very well. Iwill right myself!"

"What do you call righting yourself?" inquired Anne ofAustria, in alarm.

"I will have the Duke of Buckingham quit the princess, Iwill have him quit France, and I will see that my wishes areintimated to him."

"You will intimate nothing of the kind, Philip," said thequeen, "for if you act in that manner, and violatehospitality to that extent, I will invoke the severity ofthe king against you."

"Do you threaten me, madame?" exclaimed Philip, almost intears; "do you threaten me in the midst of my complaints!"

"I do not threaten you; I do but place an obstacle in thepath of your hasty anger. I maintain that, to adopt towardsthe Duke of Buckingham, or any other Englishman, anyrigorous measure - to take even a discourteous step towardshim, would be to plunge France and England into the mostdisastrous disagreement. Can it be possible that a prince ofthe blood, the brother of the king of France, does not knowhow to hide an injury, even did it exist in reality, wherepolitical necessity requires it?" Philip made a movement."Besides," continued the queen, "the injury is neither truenor possible, and it is merely a matter of silly jealousy."

"Madame, I know what I know."

"Whatever you may know, I can only advise you to bepatient."

"I am not patient by disposition, madame."

The queen rose, full of severity, and with an icyceremonious manner. "Explain what you really require,monsieur," she said.

"I do not require anything, madame; I simply express what Idesire. If the Duke of Buckingham does not, of his ownaccord, discontinue his visits to my apartments I shallforbid him entrance."

"That is a point you will refer to the king," said Anne ofAustria, her heart swelling as she spoke, and her voicetrembling with emotion.

"But, madame," exclaimed Philip, striking his handstogether, "act as my mother and not as the queen, since Ispeak to you as a son; it is simply a matter of a fewminutes' conversation between the duke and myself."

"It is that very conversation I forbid," said the queen,resuming her authority, "because it is unworthy of you."

"Be it so; I will not appear in the matter, but I shallintimate my will to Madame."

"Oh!" said the queen-mother, with a melancholy arising fromreflection, "never tyrannize over a wife - never behave toohaughtily or imperiously towards your own. A womanunwillingly convinced is unconvinced."

"What is to be done, then? - I will consult my friendsabout it."

"Yes, your double-dealing advisers, your Chevalier deLorraine - your De Wardes. Intrust the conduct of thisaffair to me. You wish the Duke of Buckingham to leave, doyou not?"

"As soon as possible, madame."

"Send the duke to me, then; smile upon your wife, behave toher, to the king, to every one, as usual. But follow noadvice but mine. Alas! I too well know what any householdcomes to that is troubled by advisers."

"You shall be obeyed, madame."

"And you will be satisfied at the result. Send the duke tome."

"That will not be difficult."

"Where do you suppose him to be?"

"At my wife's door, whose levee he is probably awaiting."

"Very well." said Anne of Austria, calmly. "Be good enoughto tell the duke that I shall be charmed if he will pay me avisit."

Philip kissed his mother's hand, and started off to find theDuke of Buckingham.