Aware that the monarch was closeted with his mother, and apprehending the worst consequences to himself should the interview be suffered to proceed without interruption, the minister had instantly resolved to terminate it by his own presence; and for this purpose, disregarding the affront to which he had so lately been subjected by Marie de Medicis, he hastened to her apartments; where, having found the door of the antechamber fastened from within, he entered a gallery which communicated with the royal closet, at the door of which he tapped to obtain admittance. As no answer was elicited, his alarm increased; the heavy drapery by which the door was veiled deadened the voices within; and after waiting for a few instants to convince himself that no ingress could be obtained save by stratagem, he proceeded along the corridor until he reached the oratory, where he found one of the waiting-women of the Queen, who, unable to withstand a heavy bribe, permitted him to penetrate into the royal closet. At the moment of his appearance Louis was seated in a huge chair of crimson velvet with a scroll of parchment before him, and a pen already in his hand; while Marie de Medicis stood beside him, the tears chasing each other down her cheeks, and her whole frame trembling with excitement. "_Per Dio!_" was the first exclamation of the Queen, as she hurriedly snatched the scroll from the table, and forming it into a roll, thrust it into her girdle; "are you here, _Cardinale_?" "I am here, Madame," replied Richelieu with perfect composure; "and I am here because your Majesties were speaking of me." "You are wrong, Monseigneur," murmured the King. "Nay, Sire," persisted the minister, turning towards Marie de Medicis; "your august mother will, I am convinced, own that such was the case." "You are right, Sir," admitted the Tuscan Princess, no longer able or anxious to restrain her resentment; "we were speaking of you, and you had just cause to dread the results of such a conversation. We were expatiating upon your treachery, your ingratitude, and your vices; and the subject was a copious one." "Ah, Madame!" expostulated Richelieu, as he fell upon his knees before his irritated mistress. "What have I done to forfeit your favour? How have I sacrificed your esteem?" "_Miserabile! miserabile_!" cried the Queen-mother; "dare you ask _how_? But it is idle to bandy words with such as you; _teme mia vendetta_!" "At least, Madame, suffer M. le Ministre to justify himself," stammered out Louis; "he may perhaps convince you that you have wronged him." "Wronged him!" echoed Marie with a contemptuous gesture. "Even his ready eloquence must prove powerless beside the experience of the past. Henceforward there can be no trust or fellowship between the widow of Henry the Great and her discarded servant."