“Because I am commanded to make known to you that Mademoiselle de Hautefort is exiled from France during his Majesty’s pleasure. I am charged, mademoiselle, to show you this token,” and he produced the other half of the golden medallion which Louis had broken during their interview at Fontainebleau. “The King bid me say that by this token he himself commands your instant departure.” The Queen clasped her in her arms. “My poor Hautefort, is it indeed so? Must I lose my trusty friend?” Mademoiselle de Hautefort threw herself, weeping bitterly, at the Queen’s feet. “Alas! Madame,” sobbed she, “I am banished because I have been faithful to you!” “Have you got another order--for my arrest, _par exemple_, Chevalier?” asked the Duchess archly. “I have also committed the awful crime of faithfulness to her Majesty. I suppose I shall go next.” The Chevalier shook his head. “No, madame. You will accompany the Queen to the Louvre.” * * * * * The Duchesse de Chevreuse did accompany the Queen to the Louvre; but, on arriving there, she found a _lettre de cachet_ banishing her from France within twenty-four hours. A similar order was also served on the Chevalier de Jars. The Queen was free, but her friends were exiled. CHAPTER XXXVII. LOUISE DE LAFAYETTE. Louise de Lafayette--the only child of Comte Jean de Lafayette, of Hauteville, and of Margaret de Boulon-Busset, his wife--was the young lady selected to fill the vacant post of maid of honour to the Queen, _vice_ De Hautefort, banished. So long a time had elapsed since the departure of the latter that it seemed as though Anne of Austria never intended to replace her; however, the new mistress of the robes, the Duchesse de Sennécy, a distant relative of Mademoiselle de Lafayette, urged the Queen so strongly in her favour, that the appointment was at last announced. Louise de Lafayette had passed many years of her girlhood in a convent, and was somewhat _dévote_, but she was sincere in her piety, and good-natured to excess. Not only was she good-natured, but she was so entirely devoid of malice that it actually pained her to be made acquainted with the faults of others. Perhaps her chief characteristic was an exaggerated sensibility, almost amounting to delusion. She created an ideal world around her, and peopled it with creatures of her own imagination, rather than the men and women of flesh and blood among whom she lived--a defect of youth which age and experience would rectify. She possessed that gift, so rare in women, of charming involuntarily--without effort or self-consciousness. When most attractive and most admired, she alone was unconscious of it; envy itself was disarmed by her ingenuous humility.