“By Heaven, monsieur, _shall_ I put myself out of the way, when people show so little consideration for me? Wait for me here, chevalier, wait for me here.” The prince disappeared in the neighboring apartment and inquired of the gentleman in attendance if the queen-mother had returned from chapel. Anne of Austria felt that her happiness was now complete; peace restored to her family, a nation delighted with the presence of a young monarch who had shown an aptitude for affairs of great importance; the revenues of the state increased; external peace assured; everything seemed to promise a tranquil future. Her thoughts recurred, now and then, to the poor young nobleman whom she had received as a mother, and had driven away as a hard-hearted step-mother, and she sighed as she thought of him. Suddenly the Duc d’Orleans entered her room. “Dear mother,” he exclaimed hurriedly, closing the door, “things cannot go on as they are now.” Anne of Austria raised her beautiful eyes towards him, and with an unmoved suavity of manner, said, “What do you allude to?” “I wish to speak of Madame.” “Your wife?” “Yes, madame.” “I suppose that silly fellow Buckingham has been writing a farewell letter to her.” “Oh! yes, madame; of course, it is a question of Buckingham.” “Of whom else could it be, then? for that poor fellow was, wrongly enough, the object of your jealousy, and I thought--” “My wife, madame, has already replaced the Duke of Buckingham.” “Philip, what are you saying? You are speaking very heedlessly.” “No, no. Madame has so managed matters, that I am still jealous.” “Of whom, in Heaven’s name?” “Is it possible you have not remarked it? Have you not noticed that M. de Guiche is always in her apartments--always with her?” The queen clapped her hands together, and began to laugh. “Philip,” she said, “your jealousy is not merely a defect, it is a disease.” “Whether a defect or a disease, madame, I am the sufferer from it.” “And do you imagine that a complaint which exists only in your own imagination can be cured? You wish it to be said you are right in being jealous, when there is no ground whatever for your jealousy.” “Of course, you will begin to say for this gentleman what you already said on the behalf of the other.” “Because, Philip,” said the queen dryly, “what you did for the other, you are going to do for this one.” The prince bowed, slightly annoyed. “If I give you facts,” he said, “will you believe me?” “If it regarded anything else but jealousy, I would believe you without your bringing facts forward; but as jealousy is the case, I promise nothing.” “It is just the same as if your majesty were to desire me to hold my tongue, and sent me away unheard.” “Far from it; you are my son, I owe you a mother’s indulgence.” “Oh, say what you think; you owe me as much indulgence as a madman deserves.” “Do not exaggerate, Philip, and take care how you represent your wife to me as a woman of depraved mind--”