“But they have corresponded; it is to him that the queen has been writing all the day. Monsieur Duke, I must have those letters!” “Sire, notwithstanding—” “Monsieur Duke, at whatever price it may be, I will have them.” “I would, however, beg your Majesty to observe—” “Do you, then, also join in betraying me, Monsieur Cardinal, by thus always opposing my will? Are you also in accord with Spain and England, with Madame de Chevreuse and the queen?” “Sire,” replied the cardinal, sighing, “I believed myself secure from such a suspicion.” “Monsieur Cardinal, you have heard me; I will have those letters.” “There is but one way.” “What is that?” “That would be to charge Monsieur de Séguier, the keeper of the seals, with this mission. The matter enters completely into the duties of the post.” “Let him be sent for instantly.” “He is most likely at my hôtel. I requested him to call, and when I came to the Louvre I left orders if he came, to desire him to wait.” “Let him be sent for instantly.” “Your Majesty’s orders shall be executed; but—” “But what?” “But the queen will perhaps refuse to obey.” “My orders?” “Yes, if she is ignorant that these orders come from the king.” “Well, that she may have no doubt on that head, I will go and inform her myself.” “Your Majesty will not forget that I have done everything in my power to prevent a rupture.” “Yes, Duke, yes, I know you are very indulgent toward the queen, too indulgent, perhaps; we shall have occasion, I warn you, at some future period to speak of that.” “Whenever it shall please your Majesty; but I shall be always happy and proud, sire, to sacrifice myself to the harmony which I desire to see reign between you and the Queen of France.” “Very well, Cardinal, very well; but, meantime, send for Monsieur the Keeper of the Seals. I will go to the queen.” And Louis XIII., opening the door of communication, passed into the corridor which led from his apartments to those of Anne of Austria. The queen was in the midst of her women—Mme. de Guitaut, Mme. de Sable, Mme. de Montbazon, and Mme. de Guémené. In a corner was the Spanish companion, Donna Estafania, who had followed her from Madrid. Mme. Guémené was reading aloud, and everybody was listening to her with attention with the exception of the queen, who had, on the contrary, desired this reading in order that she might be able, while feigning to listen, to pursue the thread of her own thoughts.