the seat of honor
under the dais of the bark. We know this young princess, we have seen
her at the Louvre with her mother, wanting wood, wanting bread, and fed
by the _coadjuteur_ and the parliament. She had, therefore, like her
brothers, passed through an uneasy youth; then, all at once, she had
just awakened from a long and horrible dream, seated on the steps of
a throne, surrounded by courtiers and flatterers. Like Mary Stuart on
leaving prison, she aspired not only to life and liberty, but to power
and wealth.

The Lady Henrietta, in growing, had attained remarkable beauty, which
the recent restoration had rendered celebrated. Misfortune had taken
from her the luster of pride, but prosperity had restored it to her.
She was resplendent, then, in her joy and her happiness,--like those
hot-house flowers which, forgotten during a frosty autumn night, have
hung their heads, but which on the morrow, warmed once more by the
atmosphere in which they were born, rise again with greater splendor
than ever. Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, son of him who played so
conspicuous a part in the early chapters of this history,--Villiers of
Buckingham, a handsome cavalier, melancholy with women, a jester
with men,--and Wilmot, Lord Rochester, a jester with both sexes,
were standing at this moment before the Lady Henrietta, disputing the
privilege of making her smile. As to that young and beautiful princess,
reclining upon a cushion of velvet bordered with gold, her hands hanging
listlessly so as to dip in the water, she listened carelessly to the
musicians without hearing them, and heard the two courtiers without
appearing to listen to them.

This Lady Henrietta--this charming creature--this woman who joined the
graces of France to the beauties of England, not having yet loved, was
cruel in her coquetry. The smile, then,--that innocent favor of young
girls,--did not even lighten her countenance; and if, at times, she did
raise her eyes, it was to fasten them upon one or other of the cavaliers
with such a fixity, that their gallantry, bold as it generally was, took
the alarm, and became timid.

In the meanwhile the boat continued its course, the musicians made a
great noise, and the courtiers began, like them, to be out of breath.
Besides, the excursion became doubtless monotonous to the princess,
for all at once, shaking her head with an air of impatience,--"Come
gentlemen,--enough of this;--let us land."

"Ah, madam," said Bucking