ord the less, but there will remain still
three, without reckoning my own; now four devoted men around the king
to protect him from his enemies, to be at his side in battle, to aid him
with counsel, to escort him in flight, are sufficient, not to make the
king a conqueror, but to save him if conquered; and whatever Mazarin may
say, once on the shores of France your royal husband may find as many
retreats and asylums as the seabird finds in a storm."

"Seek, then, my lord, seek these gentlemen; and if they will consent
to go with you to England, I will give to each a duchy the day that we
reascend the throne, besides as much gold as would pave Whitehall. Seek
them, my lord, and find them, I conjure you."

"I will search for them, madame," said De Winter "and doubtless I shall
find them; but time fails me. Has your majesty forgotten that the king
expects your reply and awaits it in agony?"

"Then indeed we are lost!" cried the queen, in the fullness of a broken
heart.

At this moment the door opened and the young Henrietta appeared; then
the queen, with that wonderful strength which is the privilege of
parents, repressed her tears and motioned to De Winter to change the
subject.

But that act of self-control, effective as it was, did not escape the
eyes of the young princess. She stopped on the threshold, breathed a
sigh, and addressing the queen:

"Why, then, do you always weep, mother, when I am away from you?" she
said.

The queen smiled, but instead of answering:

"See, De Winter," she said, "I have at least gained one thing in being
only half a queen; and that is that my children call me 'mother' instead
of 'madame.'"

Then turning toward her daughter:

"What do you want, Henrietta?" she demanded.

"My mother," replied the young princess, "a cavalier has just entered
the Louvre and wishes to present his respects to your majesty; he
arrives from the army and has, he says, a letter to remit to you, on the
part of the Marechal de Grammont, I think."

"Ah!" said the queen to De Winter, "he is one of my faithful adherents;
but do you not observe, my dear lord, that we are so poorly served that
it is left to my daughter to fill the office of doorkeeper?"

"Madame, have pity on me," exclaimed De Winter; "you wring my heart!"

"And who is this cavalier, Henrietta?" asked the queen.

"I saw him from the window, madame; he is a young man that appears
scarce sixteen years of age, and is called the Viscount de