It is ever a bright scene, that view from St. Germain, and many have been the royal and the fair, and the noble, whose feet have trod the terrace of Henry the Fourth; but seldom, full seldom, has there been there, a group of greater loveliness or honour than that which then followed Anne of Austria from the Palace. The melancholy which hung over the whole party took from them any wish for farther conversation, than a casual comment upon the beauties of the view; and thus they walked on nearly in silence, till they had approached within a few hundred yards of the extremity, where they were awaited by the carriages prepared for the Queen and her ladies, together with the attendants of De Blenau. At that moment the quick clanging step of armed men was heard following, and all with one impulse turned to see who it was that thus seemed to pursue them. The party which had excited their attention, consisted of a soldier-like old man, who seemed to have ridden hard, and half-a-dozen chasseurs of the guard, who followed him at about ten or twelve paces distance. "It is the Count de Thiery," said De Blenau; "I know him well: as good an old soldier as ever lived." Notwithstanding De Blenau's commendation, Anne of Austria appeared little satisfied with the Count's approach, and continued walking on towards the carriages with a degree of anxiety in her eye, which speedily communicated feelings of the same kind to her attendants. Pauline, unacquainted with the intrigues and anxieties of the court, saw from the countenances of all around that something was to be apprehended; and magnifying the danger from uncertainty in regard to its nature, she instinctively crept close to De Blenau, as certain of finding protection there. Judging at once the cause of De Thiery's coming, De Blenau drew the arm of Pauline through his, and lingered a step behind, while the rest of the party proceeded. "Dear Pauline!" said he, in a low but firm tone of voice, "my own Pauline! prepare yourself for what is coming! I think you will find that this concerns me. If so, farewell! and remember, whatever be my fate, that De Blenau has loved you ever faithfully, and will love you till his last hour--Beyond that--God only knows! but if ever human affection passed beyond the tomb, my love for you will endure in another state." By this time they had reached the steps, at the bottom of which the carriages were in waiting, and at the same moment the long strides of the Count de Thiery had brought him to the same spot. "Well, Monsieur de Thiery!" said Anne of Austria, turning sharp round, and speaking in that shrill tone which her voice assumed whenever she was agitated either by fear or anger; "your haste implies bad news. Does your business lie with me?" "No, so please your Majesty," replied the old soldier; "no farther than to wish you a fair journey to Chantilly, and to have the pleasure of seeing your Majesty to your carriage."