“In the first place, sire, I was deprived of the presence of my brother’s friend. The Duke of Buckingham was an agreeable, cheerful visitor; my own countryman, who knew my habits; I will say almost a companion, so accustomed had we been to pass our days together, with our other friends, upon the beautiful piece of water at St. James’s.” “But Villiers was in love with you.” “A pretext! What does it matter,” she said, seriously, “whether the duke was in love with me or not? Is a man in love so very dangerous for me? Ah! sire, it is not sufficient for a man to love a woman.” And she smiled so tenderly, and with so much archness, that the king felt his heart swell and throb in his breast. “At all events, if my brother were jealous?” interrupted the king. “Very well, I admit that is a reason; and the duke was sent away accordingly.” “No, not sent away.” “Driven away, dismissed, expelled, then, if you prefer it, sire. One of the first gentlemen of Europe obliged to leave the court of the King of France, of Louis XIV., like a beggar, on account of a glance or a bouquet. It was little worthy of a most gallant court; but forgive me, sire; I forgot, that, in speaking thus, I am attacking your sovereign power.” “I assure you, my dear sister, it was not I who dismissed the Duke of Buckingham; I was charmed with him.” “It was not you?” said Madame; “ah! so much the better;” and she emphasized the “so much the better,” as if she had instead said, “so much the worse.” A few minutes’ silence ensued. She then resumed: “The Duke of Buckingham having left--I now know why and by whose means--I thought I should have recovered my tranquillity; but not at all, for all at once Monsieur found another pretext; all at once--” “All at once,” said the king, playfully, “some one else presents himself. It is but natural; you are beautiful, and will always meet with men who will madly love you.” “In that case,” exclaimed the princess, “I will create a solitude around me, which indeed seems to be what is wished, and what is being prepared for me. But no, I prefer to return to London. There I am known and appreciated. I shall have friends, without fearing they may be regarded as my lovers. Shame! it is a disgraceful suspicion, and unworthy a gentleman. Monsieur has lost everything in my estimation, since he has shown me he can be a tyrant to a woman.” “Nay, nay, my brother’s only fault is that of loving you.” “Love me! Monsieur love me! Ah! sire,” and she burst out laughing. “Monsieur will never love any woman,” she said; “Monsieur loves himself too much; no, unhappily for me, Monsieur’s jealousy is of the worst kind--he is jealous without love.” “Confess, however,” said the king, who began to be excited by this varied and animated conversation; “confess that Guiche loves you.” “Ah! sire, I know nothing about that.” “You must have perceived it. A man who loves readily betrays himself.” “M. de Guiche has not betrayed himself.”