doubt that the Duke
had discovered that the man had played him false, and had shot him and
disposed of his body in that way.

Queen Inez paused, and passed her frail white hand across her eyes.

"I have told you all now, I think," she said slowly, for she was
fatigued. "When I was well enough I came here and found a telegram
from Don Juan. I knew you had delivered the casket. Here I have
remained; here I shall, if it be God's will, remain to the end."

Seeing that the long relation had tired her, I leant forward and filled
one of the little liqueur glasses with the golden Chartreuse and handed
it to her. She took it from me with a smile, and insisted that we
should take some too. We sat sipping the delicious liqueur in silence,
our gaze fixed on the blue lake and the white sails slowly moving in
the stillness of the afternoon heat.

As I saw the colour returning to the Queen's face, I ventured to ask
her another question.

"There is one person, madame," I said, "who's history you have not yet
thought fit to tell us. Forgive me if I am presumptuous in asking the
question. It is your son I speak of."

A very sweet smile came over her face as I ceased speaking. She
glanced, it appeared involuntarily, at the sparkling liqueur in her
little glass.

"My dear son's history is soon told," she said, still smiling. "He has
been a Carthusian monk, a Trappist, since his youth. He never had the
least inclination for the life of the world. He is the abbot of the
monastery of San Juan del Monte, near Valoro."

_Then_ I recollected his fair face, and blue eyes, and remembered that
he had reminded me of _some one_; now I knew who that some one was--his
mother. It was plain to me why Don Juan had taken us there.

"Every year," continued Queen Inez, "by the special permission of the
head of his order, he comes to me and stays ten days. Those are, to
me, ten days stolen from heaven. Thank God, he comes next month, and
each time he comes," she added, with a smile, raising her little glass,
"he brings me a present from his monastery of the veritable Chartreuse."

We lingered with the dear old Queen until the sun was declining over
the lake, whose waters were turning a darker blue; the sister came with
wraps and a warning glance to take her to her rooms in the convent.

At her request, during our short stay at Lucerne, we visited her again
and again, until the day of parting came, and we bade her farewell on
the te