“I have his Majesty’s commands for replying,” answers Richelieu, “that no letters implicating the Queen in treasonable correspondence with her brother have been at present actually found, although his Majesty has reason to believe that such exist. Also that the Count de Chalais’s statements are in accord with those of her Majesty. Also that the King acquits Madame Anne, his consort, of the purpose of marrying with his brother, Monsieur Duc d’Orléans, on whom _alone_ must rest the onus of such a crime. Usher of the court, summon the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting to attend her. Your Majesty is free,” adds Richelieu, and the mocking tone of his voice betrays involuntarily something of the inward rage he labours to conceal. “Madame Anne of Austria, you are no longer a prisoner of state under examination by the council, but are, as before, in full possession of the privileges, powers, immunities, and revenues belonging to the Queen Consort of France.” Anne of Austria leaves her chair, salutes his Majesty with a profound obeisance, of which Louis takes no other notice than to turn his eyes to the ceiling, and then advances towards the door. The Chancellor and the Archbishop rise at the same time from the council-table, and hasten to open the door by which she is to pass out, bowing humbly before her. “The royal carriages are in waiting, Madame,” whispered the Duchesse de Chevreuse, who, with Mademoiselle de Hautefort, was waiting outside; and she wrung the Queen’s hand. “My dear, dear mistress, I know you are free!” “Praised be God!” replied Anne, “I have escaped,” and she kissed her on both cheeks, as also her maid of honour, who was so overcome she could not say one word of congratulation. “Come, Madame,” cried the Duchesse de Chevreuse, “let us leave this dreadful place, I beseech you, lest the Cardinal should concoct some fresh plot to detain you.” “Duchess,” replied Anne gaily, “you shall command me. It is to you I owe my liberty. But for your forethought those unhappy letters, wrung from me in moments of anguish--ah! of despair, would have been found, and I should at this moment have been on my way to the Bastille. My good Hautefort, you have not spoken to me. You look sad. What is it?” and the Queen took her hand. “It is because I have contributed nothing towards your Majesty’s freedom. Besides, a foreboding of coming evil overpowers me,” and she burst into tears. She again kissed her, and led her by the hand towards the cumbrous coach which was to bear her to Paris. As Anne was preparing to mount into it, assisted by her page and Laporte, who had reappeared, the Chevalier de Jars approached hastily, and bowed before her. “How now, Chevalier! any more ill news? What is your business here?” asked Anne. “It is with this lady,” said he, turning to the maid of honour. “Mademoiselle de Hautefort, you cannot accompany her Majesty to Paris.” “Why, Chevalier?” demanded Anne impatiently, still holding her hand.