The Duke of Buckingham, obedient to the queen-mother'sinvitation, presented himself in her apartments half an hourafter the departure of the Duc d'Orleans. When his name wasannounced by the gentleman-usher in attendance, the queen,who was sitting with her elbow resting on a table, and herhead buried in her hands, rose, and smilingly received thegraceful and respectful salutation which the duke addressedto her. Anne of Austria was still beautiful. It is wellknown that at her then somewhat advanced age, her longauburn hair, perfectly formed hands, and bright ruby lips,were still the admiration of all who saw her. On the presentoccasion, abandoned entirely to a remembrance which evokedall the past in her heart, she looked almost as beautiful asin the days of her youth, when her palace was open to thevisits of the Duke of Buckingham's father, then a young andimpassioned man, as well as an unfortunate prince, who livedfor her alone, and died with her name upon his lips. Anne ofAustria fixed upon Buckingham a look so tender in itsexpression, that it denoted, not alone the indulgence ofmaternal affection, but a gentleness of expression like thecoquetry of a woman who loves.

"Your majesty," said Buckingham, respectfully, "desired tospeak to me."

"Yes, duke," said the queen, in English; "will you be goodenough to sit down?"

The favor which Anne of Austria thus extended to the youngman, and the welcome sound of the language of a country fromwhich the duke had been estranged since his stay in France,deeply affected him. He immediately conjectured that thequeen had a request to make of him. After having abandonedthe first few moments to the irrepressible emotions sheexperienced, the queen resumed the smiling air with whichshe had received him. "What do you think of France?" shesaid, in French.

"It is a lovely country, madame," replied the duke.

"Had you ever seen it before?"

"Once only, madame."

"But, like all true Englishmen, you prefer England?"

"I prefer my own native land to France," replied the duke;"but if your majesty were to ask me which of the two cities,London or Paris, I should prefer as a residence, I should beforced to answer, Paris."

Anne of Austria observed the ardent manner with which thesewords had been pronounced. "I am told my lord, you have richpossessions in your own country and that you live in asplendid and time-honored palace."

"It was my father's residence," replied Buckingham, castingdown his eyes.

"Those are indeed great advantages and souvenirs," repliedthe queen, alluding, in spite of herself, to recollectionsfrom which it is impossible voluntarily to detach one'sself.

"In fact," said the duke, yielding to the melancholyinfluence of this opening conversation, "sensitive personslive as much in the past or the future, as in the present."

"That is very true," said the queen, in a low tone of voice."It follows, then, my lord,' she added, "that you, who are aman of feeling, will soon quit France in order to shutyourself up with your wealth and your relics of the past."

Buckingham raised his head and said, "I think not, madame."

"What do you mean?"

"On the contrary, I think of leaving England in order totake up my residence in France."

It was now Anne of Austria's turn to exhibit surprise."Why?" she said. "Are you not in favor with the new king?"

"Perfectly so, madame, for his majesty's kindness to me isunbounded."

"It cannot," said the queen, "be because your fortune hasdiminished, for it is said to be enormous."

"My income, madame, has never been so large."

"There is some secret cause, then?"

"No, madame," said Buckingham, eagerly, "there is nothingsecret in my reason for this determination. I preferresidence in France; I like a court so distinguished by itsrefinement and courtesy; I like the amusements, somewhatserious in their nature, which are not the amusements of myown country, and which are met with in France."

Anne of Austria smiled shrewdly. "Amusements of a seriousnature?" she said. "Has your Grace well reflected on theirseriousness?" The duke hesitated. "There is no amusement soserious," continued the queen, "as to prevent a man of yourrank - - "

"Your majesty seems to insist greatly on that point,"interrupted the duke.

"Do you think so, my lord?"

"If you will forgive me for saying so, it is the second timeyou have vaunted the attractions of England at the expenseof the delight which all experience who live in France."

Anne of Austria approached the young man, and placing herbeautiful hand upon his shoulder, which trembled at thetouch, said, "Believe me, monsieur, nothing can equal aresidence in one's own native country. I have veryfrequently had occasion to regret Spain. I have lived long,my lord, very long for a woman, and I confess to you, thatnot a year has passed I have not regretted Spain."

"Not one year, madame?" said the young duke coldly. "Not oneof those years when you reigned Queen of Beauty - as youstill are, indeed?"

"A truce to flattery, duke, for I am old enough to be yourmother." She emphasized these latter words in a manner, andwith a gentleness, which penetrated Buckingham's heart."Yes," she said, "I am old enough to be your mother; and forthis reason, I will give you a word of advice."

"That advice being that I should return to London?" heexclaimed.

"Yes, my lord."

The duke clasped his hands with a terrified gesture whichcould not fail of its effect upon the queen, alreadydisposed to softer feelings by the tenderness of her ownrecollections. "It must be so," added the queen.

"What!" he again exclaimed, "am I seriously told that I mustleave, - that I must exile myself, - that I am to flee atonce?"

"Exile yourself, did you say? One would fancy France wasyour native country."

"Madame, the country of those who love is the country ofthose whom they love."

"Not another word, my lord; you forget whom you areaddressing."

Buckingham threw himself on his knees. "Madame, you are thesource of intelligence, of goodness, and of compassion; youare the first person in this kingdom, not only by your rank,but the first person in the world on account of your angelicattributes. I have said nothing, madame. Have I, indeed,said anything you should answer with such a cruel remark?What have I betrayed?"

"You have betrayed yourself," said the queen, in a low toneof voice.

"I have said nothing, - I know nothing."

"You forget you have spoken and thought in the presence of awoman, and besides - - "

"Besides," said the duke, "no one knows you are listening tome."

"On the contrary, it is known; you have all the defects andall the qualities of youth."

"I have been betrayed or denounced, then?"

"By whom?"

"By those who, at Havre, had, with infernal perspicacity,read my heart like an open book."

"I do not know whom you mean."

"M. de Bragelonne, for instance."

"I know the name without being acquainted with the person towhom it belongs. M. de Bragelonne has said nothing."

"Who can it be, then? If any one, madame, had had theboldness to notice in me that which I do not myself wish tobehold - - "

"What would you do, duke?"

"There are secrets which kill those who discover them."

"He, then, who has discovered your secret, madman that youare, still lives; and, what is more, you will not slay him,for he is armed on all sides, - he is a husband, a jealousman, - he is the second gentleman in France, - he is myson, the Duc d'Orleans."

The duke turned pale as death. "You are very cruel, madame,"he said.

"You see, Buckingham," said Anne of Austria, sadly, "how youpass from one extreme to another, and fight with shadows,when it would seem so easy to remain at peace withyourself."

"If we fight, madame, we die on the field of battle,"replied the young man, gently, abandoning himself to themost gloomy depression.

Anne ran towards him and took him by the hand. "Villiers,"she said, in English, with a vehemence of tone which nothingcould resist, "what is it you ask? Do you ask a mother tosacrifice her son, - a queen to consent to the dishonor ofher house? Child that you are, do not dream of it. What! inorder to spare your tears am I to commit these crimes?Villiers! you speak of the dead; the dead, at least, werefull of respect and submission; they resigned themselves toan order of exile; they carried their despair away with themin their hearts, like a priceless possession, because thedespair was caused by the woman they loved, and becausedeath, thus deceptive, was like a gift or a favor conferredupon them."

Buckingham rose, his features distorted, and his handspressed against his heart. "You are right, madame," he said,"but those of whom you speak had received their order ofexile from the lips of the one whom they loved; they werenot driven away; they were entreated to leave, and were notlaughed at."

"No," murmured Anne of Austria, "they were not forgotten.But who says you are driven away, or that you are exiled?Who says that your devotion will not be remembered? I do notspeak on any one's behalf but my own, when I tell you toleave. Do me this kindness - grant me this favor; let me,for this also, be indebted to one of your name."

"It is for your sake, then, madame?"

"For mine alone."

"No one whom I shall leave behind me will venture to mock,- no prince even who shall say, `I required it.'"

"Listen to me, duke," and hereupon the dignified features ofthe queen assumed a solemn expression. "I swear to you thatno one commands in this matter but myself. I swear to youthat, not only shall no one either laugh or boast in anyway, but no one even shall fail in the respect due to yourrank. Rely upon me, duke, as I rely upon you."

"You do not explain yourself, madame; my heart is full ofbitterness, and I am in utter despair; no consolation,however gentle and affectionate, can afford me relief."

"Do you remember your mother, duke?" replied the queen, witha winning smile.

"Very slightly, madame; yet I remember how she used to coverme with her caresses and her tears whenever I wept."

"Villiers," murmured the queen, passing her arm round theyoung man's neck, "look upon me as your mother, and believethat no one shall ever make my son weep."

"I thank you, madame," said the young man, affected andalmost suffocated by his emotion, "I feel there is indeedstill room in my heart for a gentler and nobler sentimentthan love."

The queen-mother looked at him and pressed his hand. "Go,"she said.

"When must I leave? Command me."

"At any time that may suit you, my lord," resumed the queen;"you will choose your own day of departure. Instead,however, of setting off to-day, as you would doubtless wishto do, or to-morrow, as others may have expected, leave theday after to-morrow, in the evening; but announce to-daythat it is your wish to leave."

"My wish?" murmured the young duke.

"Yes, duke."

"And shall I never return to France?"

Anne of Austria reflected for a moment, seemingly absorbedin sad and serious thought. "It would be a consolation forme," she said, "if you were to return on the day when Ishall be carried to my final resting-place at Saint-Denisbeside the king, my husband."

"Madame, you are goodness itself; the tide of prosperity issetting in on you; your cup brims over with happiness, andmany long years are yet before you."

"In that case you will not come for some time, then," saidthe queen, endeavoring to smile.

"I shall not return," said Buckingham, "young as I am. Deathdoes not reckon by years; it is impartial; some die young,some reach old age."

"I will not harbor any sorrowful ideas, duke. Let me comfortyou; return in two years. I perceive from your face that thevery idea which saddens you so much now, will havedisappeared before six months have passed, and will be notonly dead but forgotten in the period of absence I haveassigned you.'

"I think you judged me better a little while ago madame,"replied the young man, "when you said that time is powerlessagainst members of the family of Buckingham."

"Silence," said the queen, kissing the duke upon theforehead with an affection she could not restrain. "Go, go;spare me and forget yourself no longer. I am the queen; youare the subject of the king of England. King Charles awaitsyour return. Adieu, Villiers, - farewell."

"Forever!" replied the young man, and he fled, endeavoringto master his emotion.

Anne leaned her head upon her hands, and then looking atherself in the glass, murmured, "It has been truly said,that a woman who has truly loved is always young, and thatthe bloom of twenty years ever lies concealed in some secretcloister of the heart."