"It is dated Fontainebleau."

"A singular circumstance, do you not think, for the court is now at
Paris? At all events, I would have set off; but when I mentioned my
intention to the king, he began to laugh, and said to me, 'How comes
it, monsieur l'amassadeur, that you think of leaving? Has your sovereign
recalled you?' I colored, naturally enough, for I was confused by the
question; for the fact is, the king himself sent me here, and I have
received no order to return."

Mary frowned in deep thought, and said, "Do you remain, then?"

"I must, mademoiselle."

"Do you ever receive any letters from her to whom you are so devoted?"

"Never."

"Never, do you say? Does she not love you, then?"

"At least, she has not written to me since my departure, although she
used occasionally to write to me before. I trust she may have been
prevented."

"Hush! the duke is coming."

And Buckingham at that moment was seen at the end of the walk,
approaching towards them, alone and smiling; he advanced slowly, and
held out his hands to them both. "Have you arrived at an understanding?"
he said.

"About what?"

"About whatever might render you happy, dear Mary, and make Raoul less
miserable."

"I do not understand you, my lord," said Raoul.

"That is my view of the subject, Miss Mary; do you wish me to mention it
before M. de Bragelonne?" he added, with a smile.

"If you mean," replied the young girl, haughtily, "that I was not
indisposed to love M. de Bragelonne, that is useless, for I have told
him so myself."

Buckingham reflected for a moment, and, without seeming in any way
discountenanced, as she expected, he said: "My reason for leaving you
with M. de Bragelonne was, that I thoroughly knew your refined delicacy
of feeling, no less than the perfect loyalty of your mind and heart, and
I hoped that M. de Bragelonne's cure might be effected by the hands of a
physician such as you are."

"But, my lord, before you spoke of M. de Bragelonne's heart, you spoke
to me of your own. Do you mean to effect the cure of two hearts at the
same time?"

"Perfectly true, madame; but you will do me the justice to admit that
I have long discontinued a useless pursuit, acknowledging that my own
wound is incurable."

"My lord," said Mary, collecting herself for a moment before she spoke,
"M. de Bragelonne is happy, for he loves and is beloved. He has no need
of such a physician as I can be."

"M. de Bragelonne," said Buckingham,