“Why,” cried the queen; “how is that?” “Because, as they say in the opera of ‘Thisbe,’ ‘The whole world conspires to break our bonds.’” “You jest, sir!” answered the queen, endeavoring to assume something of her former dignity. “Alas! I do not, madame,” rejoined Mazarin. “Mark well what I say. The whole world conspires to break our bonds. Now as you are one of the whole world, I mean to say that you also are deserting me.” “Cardinal!” “Heavens! did I not see you the other day smile on the Duke of Orléans? or rather at what he said?” “And what was he saying?” “He said this, madame: ‘Mazarin is a stumbling-block. Send him away and all will then be well.’” “What do you wish me to do?” “Oh, madame! you are the queen!” “Queen, forsooth! when I am at the mercy of every scribbler in the Palais Royal who covers waste paper with nonsense, or of every country squire in the kingdom.” “Nevertheless, you have still the power of banishing from your presence those whom you do not like!” “That is to say, whom _you_ do not like,” returned the queen. “I! persons whom _I_ do not like!” “Yes, indeed. Who sent away Madame de Chevreuse after she had been persecuted twelve years under the last reign?” “A woman of intrigue, who wanted to keep up against me the spirit of cabal she had raised against M. de Richelieu.” “Who dismissed Madame de Hautefort, that friend so loyal that she refused the favor of the king that she might remain in mine?” “A prude, who told you every night, as she undressed you, that it was a sin to love a priest, just as if one were a priest because one happens to be a cardinal.” “Who ordered Monsieur de Beaufort to be arrested?” “An incendiary the burden of whose song was his intention to assassinate me.” “You see, cardinal,” replied the queen, “that your enemies are mine.” “That is not enough madame, it is necessary that your friends should be also mine.” “My friends, monsieur?” The queen shook her head. “Alas, I have them no longer!” “How is it that you have no friends in your prosperity when you had many in adversity?” “It is because in my prosperity I forgot those old friends, monsieur; because I have acted like Queen Marie de Médicis, who, returning from her first exile, treated with contempt all those who had suffered for her and, being proscribed a second time, died at Cologne abandoned by every one, even by her own son.” “Well, let us see,” said Mazarin; “isn’t there still time to repair the evil? Search among your friends, your oldest friends.” “What do you mean, monsieur?” “Nothing else than I say—search.” “Alas, I look around me in vain! I have no influence with any one. Monsieur is, as usual, led by his favorite; yesterday it was Choisy, to-day it is La Rivière, to-morrow it will be some one else. Monsieur le Prince is led by the coadjutor, who is led by Madame de Guéménée.” “Therefore, madame, I ask you to look, not among your friends of to-day, but among those of other times.”