At last, however, he broke the silence by saying, "And the other lady?"

"Oh, I could see her perfectly; she is tall and beautiful, with a determined expression, and a brilliant complexion."

"And the other lady did not name her?"

"Yes, once; but by her Christian name."

"What was it?"

"Andree."

"Andree!" repeated the cardinal, with a start.

This name put an end to all his doubts. It was known that the queen had gone to Paris on that day with Mademoiselle de Taverney. It was evident, also, that Jeanne had no intention of deceiving him; she was telling all she knew. Still, he would try one more proof.

"Countess," he said, "one thing astonishes me, that you have not addressed yourself to the king."

"But, sir, I have sent him twenty pet.i.tions."

"Without result?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, the princes of the blood; M. le Duc d'Orleans is charitable, and often likes to do what the king refuses."

"I have tried him, equally fruitlessly."

"That astonishes me."

"Oh, when one is poor, and not supported by any one----"

"There is still the Comte d'Artois; sometimes dissipated men do more generous actions than charitable ones."

"It is the same story with him."

"But the princesses, the aunts of the king, Madame Elizabeth particularly, would refuse a.s.sistance to no one."

"It is true, monseigneur, her royal highness, to whom I wrote, promised to receive me; but, I know not why, after having received my husband, I could never get any more notice from her."

"It is strange, certainly," said the cardinal; then, as if the thought had just struck him, he cried, "Ah! mon Dieu! but we are forgetting the person to whom you should have addressed yourself first of all."

"Whom do you mean?"

"To the dispenser of all favors, she who never refuses help where it is deserved--to the queen. Have you seen her?"

"No," answered Jeanne.

"You have never presented your pet.i.tion to the queen?"

"Never."

"You have not tried to obtain an audience of her?"

"I have tried, but failed."

"Have you tried to throw yourself in her way, that she might remark you?"

"No, monseigneur."

"But that is very strange."

"I have only been twice to Versailles, and then saw but two persons there; one was Doctor Louis, who had attended my poor father at the Hotel Dieu, and the other was M. le Baron de Taverney, to whom I had an introduction."

"What did M. de Taverney say to you? He might have brought you to the queen."

"He told me that I was very foolish to bring forward as a claim to the benevolence of the king a relationship which would be sure to displease him, as n.o.body likes poor relations."

"I recognize the egotistical and rude old baron. Well," continued he, "I will conduct you myself to Versailles, and will open the doors for you."

"Oh, monseigneur, how good you are," cried Jeanne, overwhelmed with joy.

The cardinal approached her, and said, "It is impossible but that before long all must interest themselves in you."

"Alas! monseigneur," said Jeanne, with a sigh, "do you think so?"

"I am sure of it."

"I fear you flatter me," she said, looking earnestly at him, for she could hardly believe in his sudden change of manner, he had been so cold and suspicious at first.

This look had no small effect on the cardinal; he began to think he had never met a woman prettier or more attractive. "Ah, ma foi!" said he to himself, with the eternally scheming spirit of a man used to diplomacy, "it would be too extraordinary and too fortunate if I have met at once an honest woman with the attractions of a scheming one, and found in this poverty an able coadjutrix to my desires."

"Monseigneur, the silence you keep every now and then disquiets me."

"Why so, countess?"

"Because a man like you only fails in politeness to two kinds of women."

"Mon Dieu! countess, you frighten me. What are you about to say?" and he took her hand.

"I repeat it," said she, "with women that you love too much, or with women whom you do not esteem enough to be polite to."

"Countess, you make me blush. Have I, then, failed in politeness towards you?"

"Rather so, monseigneur; and yet you cannot love me too much, and I have given you no cause to despise me."

"Oh, countess, you speak as if you were angry with me."

"No, monseigneur; you have not yet merited my anger."