"It is needless," suddenly replied a voice, at once firm and gentle in its tone, which proceeded from the other side of the tapestry hangings; a voice which made the attendants start and the queen tremble excessively. At the same moment a masked female appeared through the hangings, and, before the queen could speak a syllable, she added, "I am connected with the order of the Beguines of Bruges, and do, indeed, bring with me the remedy which is certain to effect a cure of your majesty's complaint." No one uttered a sound, and the Beguine did not move a step. "Speak," said the queen. "I will, when we are alone," was the answer. Anne of Austria looked at her attendants, who immediately withdrew. The Beguine, thereupon, advanced a few steps toward the queen, and bowed reverently before her. The queen gazed with increasing mistrust at this woman, who, in her turn, fixed a pair of brilliant eyes upon her, through her mask. "The queen of France must, indeed, be very ill," said Anne of Austria, "if it is known at the Beguinage of Bruges that she stands in need of being cured." "Your majesty is not irremediably ill." "But, tell me, how do you happen to know I am suffering?" "Your majesty has friends in Flanders." "Since these friends, then, have sent you, mention their names." "Impossible, madame, since your majesty's memory has not been awakened by your heart." Anne of Austria looked up, endeavoring to discover through the concealment of the mask, and through her mysterious language, the name of her companion, who expressed herself with such familiarity and freedom; then, suddenly, wearied by a curiosity which wounded every feeling of pride in her nature, she said, "You are ignorant, perhaps, that royal personages are never spoken to with the face masked." "Deign to excuse me, madame," replied the Beguine, humbly. "I cannot excuse you. I may possibly forgive you, if you throw your mask aside." "I have made a vow, madame, to attend and aid all afflicted or suffering persons, without ever permitting them to behold my face. I might have been able to administer some relief to your body and to your mind, too; but, since your majesty forbids me, I will take my leave. Adieu, madame, adieu." These words were uttered with a harmony of tone and respect of manner that deprived the queen of all her anger and suspicion, but did not remove her feeling of curiosity. "You are right," she said; "it ill becomes those who are suffering to reject the means of relief which Heaven sends them. Speak, then; and may you, indeed, be able, as you assert you can, to administer relief to my body--" "Let us first speak a little of the mind, if you please," said the Beguine; "of the mind, which, I am sure, must also suffer." "My mind?"