"There was a fête at Amiens," continues Madame de Noailles, her eyes sparkling with malice, "a shady garden, and a moon not too bright—a lover's moon, we will say—revealing much, not all. It is certain that by the management of Madame de Chevreuse, the Queen and Buckingham had a charming little _àpart_ during the fête, in a grove at the end of the gardens, near the city walls. There was a cry, and Putange, who was in waiting, but—instructed by Madame de Chevreuse—standing apart, though within call, hearing the Queen's voice, rushed forward and found her nearly fainting, and Buckingham on his knees before her." "_Bagatelle!_" breaks in Madame de Sennécy, "what a romantic story!" "Certain it is, Buckingham sailed from France that same night. Madame de Chevreuse had too much on her own hands (_en fait d'amour_) to know more than what Putange told her. Buckingham sailed, the Queen returned ill to Paris, and was nursed by the Duchesse de Chevreuse. Some say that Buckingham returned again privately. At all events, the Queen, as long as Richelieu and Louis XIII. lived, led a miserable life. Mesdames," and the Duchesse de Noailles gives a triumphant glance round the circle, "I have proved, I think, that her Majesty is seldom incautious," and the Duchess smiles a bitter smile, and again looks around for approval and acquiescence. Just as the ladies had all risen with great animation to give their various opinions and to thank the Duchess, the rattle of a heavy coach is heard below. In a few moments the door is flung open, and Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse is announced. CHAPTER XII. "PUT NOT THY TRUST IN PRINCES." Madame de Noailles rises to receive the Duchesse de Chevreuse, and kisses her with effusion, but is startled at the sight of her blanched face and despondent air. She is plainly dressed in a dark travelling costume, bows to the Duchesse de Sennécy and to the other ladies, and sinks down on a couch. "Good heavens! what is the matter?" asks Madame de Noailles, with intense curiosity, taking her by the hand; "you are strangely altered since I left the palace a few hours since." The Duchesse de Chevreuse glances at the circle of ladies, the "nineteen bosom friends," whose eyes are riveted upon her as if to read her thoughts. The red-nosed Countess in particular has advanced close to her, in order not to lose a syllable; her mouth is wide open, to assist her ears in listening. "I have come on private business of some importance to myself, dear Duchess," says Madame de Chevreuse, speaking under her breath. "I did not know that you received this evening. It is unfortunate." Madame de Noailles, who is dying to hear what she has to say, looks at her guests with an unmistakable expression. The Duchesse de Sennécy rises at once.