“No matter; you would not care to know; a great many do not love the queen; but I think you are something to the daughter of Maria Theresa, or you would not be in this place. It is strange, but at first I thought it was the queen walking by herself—as if she ever did! It would be dangerous, I can tell her that—very dangerous; for there exist people over yonder who hate this fair young queen. But I pity her; oh, yes! I pity her from the depths of my heart!” “Why—why do you pity her?” “Because I know. Because they have taken the good from me and turned it into evil for her. Ah! if I could see her; if she would only believe me!” “Believe you in what?” “In the thing I would ask of her.” “What would that be?” “No matter. I can tell no one but herself.” “Tell me, and if the thing you want is reasonable, I will ask it of her.” “Do you see her? Are you one of her ladies! You should be, else how came you here?” “How came you here?” demanded the queen. “Oh! I accomplished it at last. Days and days I have waited and watched; but this morning I saw a man go warily through a gate. He left it unlocked. I dared not follow, but lingered near, for the temptation was strong upon me. I waited patiently. Oh, lady! I have learned to be patient; to wait, and wait, and wait——” The man broke off dreamily. His hand waved to and fro in the air, as if grasping at the moonbeams. “But you have not told me?” “Told you about what?” “About the man.” “About the man—I have seen a great many people since then; and they all talk before me, thinking that I, most of any one, must hate the man they call Louis Capet, and his wife. Poor thing! Poor thing! Why should I hate her or him! He was not to blame for the cruel acts of his grandfather. But about the man, he went out of the gate without locking it, then I crept in. What if I had been an enemy? but I am not. No one shall ever make me that.” “Well, no harm is done,” said the queen. “Not yet; but, lady, if you see the queen, warn her about the gate. I would, but that my business with her is so much more important.” “I will warn her,” said the queen. “That is kind. Oh! if I could only see her, and undo the evil thing which is sure to carry a curse with it, when a minute could turn it into a blessing. You could not ask her?” His great, wistful eyes were turned on her face imploringly; he grasped the lace of her shawl with his eager hand. She stepped back nervously, and wrenched the lace from his grasp. In doing this her hand flashed out from its covering; the moonlight struck the great starlike diamonds on her fingers, and dimly revealed a serpent of twisted gold, with a green beetle in its coils, twined around one finger. The old man uttered a cry so sharp and wild that it rang through the park. “Give it me! Give it me! It is mine! It is mine!” he cried, snatching at the hand on which he had seen the serpent ring. “Oh, my God! it shall not escape me again! All the fiends themselves shall not keep it from me!”