The Queen paused, and regarded the old man for a moment with a steady eye, while he looked down upon the ground and played with the point of his grey beard, in no very graceful embarrassment. "Very well!" replied she at length; "you, Monsieur de Thiery, shall hand me to my carriage. So, De Blenau, I shall not need your attendance. Mount your horse and ride on." "Pardon me, your Majesty," said De Thiery, stepping forward with an air of melancholy gravity, but from which all embarrassment was now banished. "Monsieur de Blenau," he continued, "I have a most unpleasant task to accomplish: I am sorry to say you must give me up your sword; but be assured that you render it to a man of honour, who will keep it as a precious and invaluable charge, till he can give it back to that hand, which he is convinced will always use it nobly." "I foresaw it plainly!" cried the Queen, and turned away her head. Pauline clasped her hands and burst into tears: but amongst the attendants of De Blenau, who during this conversation had one by one mounted the steps of the terrace, there was first a whisper, then a loud murmur, then a shout of indignation, and in a moment a dozen swords were gleaming in the sunshine. Old De Thiery laid his hand upon his weapon, but De Blenau stopped him in his purpose. "Silence!" cried he in a voice of thunder; "Traitors, put up your swords!--My good friends," added he, in a gentler tone, as he saw himself obeyed, "those swords, which have before so well defended their master, must never be drawn in a cause that De Blenau could blush to own. Monsieur le Comte de Thiery," he continued, unbuckling his weapon, "I thank you for the handsome manner in which you have performed a disagreeable duty. I do not ask to see the _lettre de cachet_, which, of course, you bear; for in giving you the sword of an honourable man, I know I could not place it in better hands; and now, having done so, allow me to lead her Majesty to her carriage, and I will then follow you whithersoever you may have commands to bear me." "Most certainly," replied De Thiery, receiving his sword; "I wait your own time, and will remain here till you are at leisure." De Blenau led the Queen to the carriage in silence, and having handed her in, he kissed the hand she extended to him, begging her to rely upon his honour and firmness. He next gave his hand to Pauline de Beaumont, down whose cheeks the tears were streaming unrestrained. "Farewell, dear Pauline! farewell!" he said. Her sobs prevented her answer, but her hand clasped upon his with a fond and lingering pressure, which spoke more to his heart than the most eloquent adieu. Madame de Beaumont came next, and embraced him warmly. "God protect you, my son!" said she, "for your heart is a noble one."