"Not yet; one word before you do; come, Stewart, you who know so many of
the king's secrets, tell me why M. de Bragelonne is in England?"

"Because he was sent as an envoy from one sovereign to another."

"That may be; but, seriously, although politics do not much concern us,
we know enough to be satisfied that M. de Bragelonne has no mission of
any serious import here."

"Well, then, listen," said Stewart, with assumed gravity, "for your sake
I am going to betray a state secret. Shall I tell you the nature of the
letter which King Louis XIV. gave M. de Bragelonne for King Charles II.?
I will; these are the very words, 'My brother, the bearer of this is a
gentleman attached to my court, and the son of one whom you regard most
warmly. Treat him kindly, I beg, and try and make him like England.'"

"Did it say that?"

"Word for word--or something very like it. I will not answer for the
form; but the substance I am sure of."

"Well, and what conclusion do you, or rather what conclusion does the
king, draw from that?"

"That the king of France has his own reasons for removing M. de
Bragelonne, and for getting him married--somewhere else than in France."

"So that, then, in consequence of this letter--"

"King Charles received M. de Bragelonne, as you are aware, in the most
distinguished and friendly manner; the handsomest apartments in
Whitehall were allotted to him; and as you are the most valuable and
precious person in his court, inasmuch as you have rejected his
heart--nay, do not blush--he wished you to take a fancy to this
Frenchman, and he was desirous to confer upon him so costly a prize. And
this is the reason why you, the heiress of three hundred thousand
pounds, a future duchess, and one so beautiful and so good, have been
thrown in Bragelonne's way, in all the promenades and parties of
pleasure to which he was invited. In fact, it was a plot--a kind of
conspiracy."

Mary Grafton smiled with that charming expression which was habitual to
her, and, pressing her companion's arm, said: "Thank the king, Lucy."

"Yes, yes, but the Duke of Buckingham is jealous, so take care."

Hardly had she pronounced these words than the duke appeared from one of
the pavilions on the terrace, and, approaching the two girls, with a
smile, said: "You are mistaken, Miss Lucy; I am not jealous; and the
proof, Miss Mary, is yonder, in the person of M. de Bragelonne himself,
who ought to be the cause of my jealousy, but who