lity of
the French king, Henry IV. I told him that austere morals and moral laws
suffered exceptions, and that those through whom the welfare of humanity
should be furthered, had to transfer their heavenly bliss of love to the
earthly sphere. Sully would contest the question with me, but I defeated
him, while I repeated to him what the beautiful and unhappy Queen of
Scotland, Mary Stuart, once said to me."

"Mary Stuart!" cried the other, vehemently.

"Yes, Mary Stuart," answered the Italian, earnestly. "Come, my son, let
us go. We have seen what we wished to see, and that is sufficient. Give
me thy arm, and let us depart."

They departed arm in arm, withdrawing from the crowd, and taking the
broad walk which crossed to the park.

"You were about to relate to me the answer which Mary Stuart gave to
you, sir," said the Hercules, timidly.

"True; I will now relate it to you," he answered, with sadness. "It was
in Edinburgh I had surprised Mary (as I was admitted without ceremony),
in her boudoir, as the handsome Rizzio sat at her feet, and sang
love-songs to her. She was resting upon a gold-embroidered divan,
and her figure appeared to great advantage in the heavenly blue,
silver-embroidered gauze robe, which covered her beautiful limbs like
a cloud. In her hair sparkled two diamonds, like two stars fallen from
heaven, and more glowing still were her eyes, which tenderly rested upon
Rizzio. Leaning upon her elbow, she inclined toward Rizzio, who, lute in
hand, was looking up to her with a countenance expressive of the deepest
love. It was a glorious picture, this young and charming couple, in
their bliss of love; and never, in the course of this century, have I
forgotten this exquisite picture--never have its bright tints faded from
my memory. How often have I begged my friend, Antonio Vandyck, to make
this picture eternal, with his immortal pencil. He promised to do it,
but at the moment he was occupied with the portraits of Charles I. and
his family--the grandson of Queen Mary. Later, as I was not with him,
unfortunately, to save him, death seized him before he had fulfilled his
promise. But her image is stamped upon my heart, and I see her now, as I
saw her then, the beautiful queen, with the handsome singer at her feet.
I had entered unawares, and stood a few moments at the door before they
remarked me. As I approached, Rizzio suddenly ceased in the midst of a
tender passage, and sprang to his feet. Mary signed t