Mme. Bonacieux and the duke entered the Louvre withoutdifficulty. Mme. Bonacieux was known to belong to the queen; theduke wore the uniform of the Musketeers of M. de Treville, who,as we have said, were that evening on guard. Besides, Germainwas in the interests of the queen; and if anything should happen,Mme. Bonacieux would be accused of having introduced her loverinto the Louvre, that was all. She took the risk upon herself.Her reputation would be lost, it is true; but of what value inthe world was the reputation of the little wife of a mercer?

Once within the interior of the court, the duke and the youngwoman followed the wall for the space of about twenty-five steps.This space passed, Mme. Bonacieux pushed a little servants' door,open by day but generally closed at night. The door yielded.Both entered, and found themselves in darkness; but Mme.Bonacieux was acquainted with all the turnings and windings ofthis part of the Louvre, appropriated for the people of thehousehold. She closed the door after her, took the duke by thehand, and after a few experimental steps, grasped a balustrade,put her foot upon the bottom step, and began to ascend thestaircase. The duke counted two stories. She then turned to theright, followed the course of a long corridor, descended aflight, went a few steps farther, introduced a key into a lock,opened a door, and pushed the duke into an apartment lighted onlyby a lamp, saying, "Remain here, my Lord Duke; someone willcome." She then went out by the same door, which she locked, sothat the duke found himself literally a prisoner.

Nevertheless, isolated as he was, we must say that the Duke ofBuckingham did not experience an instant of fear. One of thesalient points of his character was the search for adventures anda love of romance. Brave, rash, and enterprising, this was notthe first time he had risked his life in such attempts. He hadlearned that the pretended message from Anne of Austria, upon thefaith of which he had come to Paris, was a snare; but instead ofregaining England, he had, abusing the position in which he hadbeen placed, declared to the queen that he would not departwithout seeing her. The queen had at first positively refused;but at length became afraid that the duke, if exasperated, wouldcommit some folly. She had already decided upon seeing him andurging his immediate departure, when, on the very evening ofcoming to this decision, Mme. Bonacieux, who was charged withgoing to fetch the duke and conducting him to the Louvre, wasabducted. For two days no one knew what had become of her, andeverything remained in suspense; but once free, and placed incommunication with Laporte, matters resumed their course, and sheaccomplished the perilous enterprise which, but for her arrest,would have been executed three days earlier.

Buckingham, left alone, walked toward a mirror. His Musketeer'suniform became him marvelously.

At thirty-five, which was then his age, he passed, with justtitle, for the handsomest gentleman and the most elegant cavalierof France or England.

The favorite of two kings, immensely rich, all-powerful in akingdom which he disordered at his fancy and calmed again at hiscaprice, George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, had lived one ofthose fabulous existences which survive, in the course ofcenturies, to astonish posterity.

Sure of himself, convinced of his own power, certain that thelaws which rule other men could not reach him, he went straightto the object he aimed at, even were this object were so elevatedand so dazzling that it would have been madness for any othereven to have contemplated it. It was thus he had succeeded inapproaching several times the beautiful and proud Anne ofAustria, and in making himself loved by dazzling her.

George Villiers placed himself before the glass, as we have said,restored the undulations to his beautiful hair, which the weightof his hat had disordered, twisted his mustache, and, his heartswelling with joy, happy and proud at being near the moment hehad so long sighed for, he smiled upon himself with pride andhope.

At this moment a door concealed in the tapestry opened, and awoman appeared. Buckingham saw this apparition in the glass; heuttered a cry. It was the queen!

Anne of Austria was then twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age;that is to say, she was in the full splendor of her beauty.

Her carriage was that of a queen or a goddess; her eyes, whichcast the brilliancy of emeralds, were perfectly beautiful, andyet were at the same time full of sweetness and majesty.

Her mouth was small and rosy; and although her underlip, likethat of all princes of the House of Austria, protruded slightlybeyond the other, it was eminently lovely in its smile, but asprofoundly disdainful in its contempt.

Her skin was admired for its velvety softness; her hands and armswere of surpassing beauty, all the poets of the time singing themas incomparable.

Lastly, her hair, which, from being light in her youth, hadbecome chestnut, and which she wore curled very plainly, and withmuch powder, admirably set off her face, in which the most rigidcritic could only have desired a little less rouge, and the mostfastidious sculptor a little more fineness in the nose.

Buckingham remained for a moment dazzled. Never had Anna ofAustria appeared to him so beautiful, amid balls, fetes, orcarousals, as she appeared to him at this moment, dressed in asimple robe of white satin, and accompanied by Donna Estafania - the only one of her Spanish women who had not been driven fromher by the jealousy of the king or by the persecutions ofRichelieu.

Anne of Austria took two steps forward. Buckingham threw himselfat her feet, and before the queen could prevent him, kissed thehem of her robe.

"Duke, you already know that it is not I who caused you to bewritten to."

"Yes, yes, madame! Yes, your Majesty!" cried the duke. "I knowthat I must have been mad, senseless, to believe that snow wouldbecome animated or marble warm; but what then! They who lovebelieve easily in love. Besides, I have lost nothing by thisjourney because I see you."

"Yes," replied Anne, "but you know why and how I see you;because, insensible to all my sufferings, you persist inremaining in a city where, by remaining, you run the risk of yourlife, and make me run the risk of my honor. I see you to tellyou that everything separates us - the depths of the sea, theenmity of kingdoms, the sanctity of vows. It is sacrilege tostruggle against so many things, my Lord. In short, I see you totell you that we must never see each other again."

"Speak on, madame, speak on, Queen," said Buckingham; "thesweetness of your voice covers the harshness of your words. Youtalk of sacrilege! Why, the sacrilege is the separation of twohearts formed by God for each other."

"My Lord," cried the queen, "you forget that I have never saidthat I love you."

"But you have never told me that you did not love me; and truly,to speak such words to me would be, on the part of your Majesty,too great an ingratitude. For tell me, where can you find a lovelike mine - a love which neither time, nor absence, not despaircan extinguish, a love which contents itself with a lost ribbon,a stray look, or a chance word? It is now three years, madame,since I saw you for the first time, and during those three yearsI have loved you thus. Shall I tell you each ornament of yourtoilet? Mark! I see you now. You were seated upon cushions inthe Spanish fashion; you wore a robe of green satin embroideredwith gold and silver, hanging sleeves knotted upon your beautifularms - those lovely arms - with large diamonds. You wore a closeruff, a small cap upon your head of the same color as your robe,and in that cap a heron's feather. Hold! Hold! I shut my eyes,and I can see you as you then were; I open them again, and I seewhat you are now - a hundred time more beautiful!"

"What folly," murmured Anne of Austria, who had not the courageto find fault with the duke for having so well preserved herportrait in his heart, "what folly to feed a useless passion withsuch remembrances!"

"And upon what then must I live? I have nothing but memory. Itis my happiness, my treasure, my hope. Every time I see you is afresh diamond which I enclose in the casket of my heart. Thisis the fourth which you have let fall and I have picked up; forin three years, madame, I have only seen you four times - thefirst, which I have described to you; the second, at the mansionof Madame de Chevreuse; the third, in the gardens of Amiens."

"Duke," said the queen, blushing, "never speak of that evening."

"Oh, let us speak of it; on the contrary, let us speak of it!That is the most happy and brilliant evening of my life! Youremember what a beautiful night it was? How soft and perfumedwas the air; how lovely the blue heavens and star-enameled sky!Ah, then, madame, I was able for one instant to be alone withyou. Then you were about to tell me all - the isolation of yourlife, the griefs of your heart. You leaned upon my arm - uponthis, madame! I felt, in bending my head toward you, yourbeautiful hair touch my cheek; and every time that it touched meI trembled from head to foot. Oh, Queen! Queen! You do notknow what felicity from heaven, what joys from paradise, arecomprised in a moment like that. Take my wealth, my fortune, myglory, all the days I have to live, for such an instant, for anight like that. For that night, madame, that night you lovedme, I will swear it."

"My Lord, yes; it is possible that the influence of the place,the charm of the beautiful evening, the fascination of yourlook - the thousand circumstances, in short, which sometimes uniteto destroy a woman - were grouped around me on that fatal evening;but, my Lord, you saw the queen come to the aid of the woman whofaltered. At the first word you dared to utter, at the firstfreedom to which I had to reply, I called for help."

"Yes, yes, that is true. And any other love but mine would havesunk beneath this ordeal; but my love came out from it moreardent and more eternal. You believed that you would fly from meby returning to Paris; you believed that I would not dare to quitthe treasure over which my master had charged me to watch. Whatto me were all the treasures in the world, or all the kings ofthe earth! Eight days after, I was back again, madame. Thattime you had nothing to say to me; I had risked my life and favorto see you but for a second. I did not even touch your hand, andyou pardoned me on seeing me so submissive and so repentant."

"Yes, but calumny seized upon all those follies in which I tookno part, as you well know, my Lord. The king, excited by thecardinal, made a terrible clamor. Madame de Vernet was drivenfrom me, Putange was exiled, Madame de Chevreuse fell intodisgrace, and when you wished to come back as ambassador toFrance, the king himself - remember, my lord - the king himselfopposed to it."

"Yes, and France is about to pay for her king's refusal with awar. I am not allowed to see you, madame, but you shall everyday hear of me. What object, think you, have this expedition toRe and this league with the Protestants of La Rochelle which I amprojecting? The pleasure of seeing you. I have no hope ofpenetrating, sword in hand, to Paris, I know that well. But thiswar may bring round a peace; this peace will require anegotiator; that negotiator will be me. They will not dare torefuse me then; and I will return to Paris, and will see youagain, and will be happy for an instant. Thousands of men, it istrue, will have to pay for my happiness with their lives; butwhat is that to me, provided I see you again! All this isperhaps folly - perhaps insanity; but tell me what woman has alover more truly in love; what queen a servant more ardent?"

"My Lord, my Lord, you invoke in your defense things which accuseyou more strongly. All these proofs of love which you would giveme are almost crimes."

"Because you do not love me, madame! If you loved me, you wouldview all this otherwise. If you loved me, oh, if you loved me,that would be too great happiness, and I should run mad. Ah,Madame de Chevreuse was less cruel than you. Holland loved her,and she responded to his love."

"Madame de Chevreuse was not queen," murmured Anne of Austria,overcome, in spite of herself, by the expression of so profound apassion.

"You would love me, then, if you were not queen! Madame, saythat you would love me then! I can believe that it is thedignity of your rank alone which makes you cruel to me; I canbelieve that you had been Madame de Chevreuse, poor Buckinghammight have hoped. Thanks for those sweet words! Oh, mybeautiful sovereign, a hundred times, thanks!"

"Oh, my Lord! You have ill understood, wrongly interpreted; Idid not mean to say - "

"Silence, silence!" cried the duke. "If I am happy in an error,do not have the cruelty to lift me from it. You have told meyourself, madame, that I have been drawn into a snare; I,perhaps, may leave my life in it - for, although it may bestrange, I have for some time had a presentiment that I shouldshortly die." And the duke smiled, with a smile at once sad andcharming.

"Oh, my God!" cried Anne of Austria, with an accent of terrorwhich proved how much greater an interest she took in the dukethan she ventured to tell.

"I do not tell you this, madame, to terrify you; no, it is evenridiculous for me to name it to you, and, believe me, I take noheed of such dreams. But the words you have just spoken, thehope you have almost given me, will have richly paid all - were itmy life."

"Oh, but I," said Anne, "I also, duke, have had presentiments; Ialso have had dreams. I dreamed that I saw you lying bleeding,wounded."

"In the left side, was it not, and with a knife?" interruptedBuckingham.

"Yes, it was so, my Lord, it was so - in the left side, and with aknife. Who can possibly have told you I had had that dream? Ihave imparted it to no one but my God, and that in my prayers."

"I ask for no more. You love me, madame; it is enough."

"I love you, I?"

"Yes, yes. Would God send the same dreams to you as to me if youdid not love me? Should we have the same presentiments if ourexistences did not touch at the heart? You love me, my beautifulqueen, and you will weep for me?"

"Oh, my God, my God!" cried Anne of Austria, "this is more than Ican bear. In the name of heaven, Duke, leave me, go! I do notknow whether I love you or love you not; but what I know is thatI will not be perjured. Take pity on me, then, and go! Oh, ifyou are stuck in France, if you die in France, if I could imaginethat your love for me was the cause of your death, I could notconsole myself; I should run mad. Depart then, depart, I imploreyou!"

"Oh, how beautiful you are thus! Oh, how I love you!" saidBuckingham.

"Go, go, I implore you, and return hereafter! Come back asambassador, come back as minister, come back surrounded withguards who will defend you, with servants who will watch overyou, and then I shall no longer fear for your days, and I shallbe happy in seeing you."

"Oh, is this true what you say?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then, some pledge of your indulgence, some object which camefrom you, and may remind me that I have not been dreaming;something you have worn, and that I may wear in my turn - a ring,a necklace, a chain."

"Will you depart - will you depart, if I give you that youdemand?"

"Yes."

"This very instant?"

"Yes."

"You will leave France, you will return to England?"

"I will, I swear to you."

"Wait, then, wait."

Anne of Austria re-entered her apartment, and came out againalmost immediately, holding a rosewood casket in her hand, withher cipher encrusted with gold.

"Her, my Lord, here," said she, "keep this in memory of me."

Buckingham took the casket, and fell a second time on his knees.

"You have promised me to go," said the queen.

"And I keep my word. Your hand, madame, your hand, and Idepart!"

Anne of Austria stretched forth her hand, closing her eyes, andleaning with the other upon Estafania, for she felt that herstrength was about to fail her.

Buckingham pressed his lips passionately to that beautiful hand,and then rising, said, "Within six months, if I am not dead, Ishall have seen you again, madame - even if I have to overturn theworld." And faithful to the promise he had made, he rushed outof the apartment.

In the corridor he met Mme. Bonacieux, who waited for him, andwho, with the same precautions and the same good luck, conductedhim out of the Louvre.