Chapter 43

Chapter XLIII:
An Interview with the Queen-Mother.

The queen-mother was in the bedroom at the Palais Royal, with Madame de
Motteville and Senora Molina. King Louis, who had been impatiently
expected the whole day, had not made his appearance; and the queen, who
was growing impatient, had often sent to inquire about him. The moral
atmosphere of the court seemed to indicate an approaching storm; the
courtiers and the ladies of the court avoided meeting in the ante-
chambers and the corridors in order not to converse on compromising
subjects. Monsieur had joined the king early in the morning for a
hunting-party; Madame remained in her own apartment, cool and distant to
every one; and the queen-mother, after she had said her prayers in Latin,
talked of domestic matters with her two friends in pure Castilian.
Madame de Motteville, who understood the language perfectly, answered her
in French. When the three ladies had exhausted every form of
dissimulation and of politeness, as a circuitous mode of expressing that
the king's conduct was making the queen and the queen-mother pine away
through sheer grief and vexation, and when, in the most guarded and
polished phrases, they had fulminated every variety of imprecation
against Mademoiselle de la Valliere, the queen-mother terminated her
attack by an exclamation indicative of her own reflections and
character. "_Estos hijos!_" said she to Molina - which means, "These
children!" words full of meaning on a mother's lips - words full of
terrible significance in the mouth of a queen who, like Anne of Austria,
hid many curious secrets in her soul.

"Yes," said Molina, "children, children! for whom every mother becomes a
sacrifice."

"Yes," replied the queen; "a mother sacrifices everything, certainly."
She did not finish her phrase; for she fancied, when she raised her eyes
towards the full-length portrait of the pale Louis XIII., that light once
more flashed from her husband's dull eyes, and his nostrils grew livid
with wrath. The portrait seemed animated by a living expression - speak
it did not, but it seemed to threaten. A profound silence succeeded the
queen's last remark. La Molina began to turn over ribbons and laces on a
large work-table. Madame de Motteville, surprised at the look of mutual
intelligence which had been exchanged between the confidant and her
mistress, cast down her eyes like a discreet woman, and pretending to be
observant of nothing that was passing, listened with the utmost attention
to every word. She heard nothing, however, but a very insignificant
"hum" on the part of the Spanish duenna, who was the incarnation of
caution - and a profound sigh on that of the queen. She looked up
immediately.

"You are suffering?" she