"Why so?"
"Can you not guess why?"
"Ah! madame, in that case we have both the same thing to say to each other."
"What has happened to you, then?"
"You wish me to begin?"
"Yes, for I have told you all."
"Well, then, as soon as I returned, I found my mother waiting for me, and she led me away to her own apartments."
"The queen-mother?" said madame, with some anxiety; "the matter is serious, then."
"Indeed it is, for she told me — but, in the first place allow me to preface what I have to say with one remark. Has Monsieur ever spoken to you about me?"
"Often."
"Has he ever spoken to you about his jealousy?"
"More frequently still.'
"Of his jealousy of me?"
"No; but of the Duke of Buckingham and De Guiche."
"Well, madame. Monsieur's present idea is a jealousy of myself."
"Really!" replied the princess, smiling archly.
"And it really seems to me," continued the king, "that we have never given any ground "
"Never! at least, I have not. But who told you that Monsieur was jealous?"
"My mother represented to me that Monsieur entered her apartments like a madman, that he had uttered a thousand complaints against you, and — forgive me for saying it — against your coquetry. It appears that Monsieur indulges in injustice, too."
"You are very kind, sire."
"xvly mother reassured him; but he pretended that people reassure him too often, and that he had had quite enough of it."
"Would it not be better for him not to make himself uneasy in any way?"
"The very thing I said."
"Confess, sire, that the world is very wicked. Is it possible that a brother and sister cannot converse together, or take pleasure in each other's society, without giving rise to remarks and suspicions? For, indeed, sire, we are doing no harm, and have no intention of doing any."
And she looked at the king with that proud and provok-
