Two days elapsed, while preparations
were made again to solemnize the marriage beneath the skies of France.

A platform was constructed, richly carpeted, from the residence of
Anne of Austria to the church. The young maiden-queen was robed in
French attire for this repetition of the nuptial ceremony. She wore a
royal mantle of violet-colored velvet, sprinkled with fleur de lis,
over a white dress. A queenly crown was upon her brow. Her gorgeous
train was borne by three of the most distinguished ladies of France.
At the conclusion of this ceremony Louis XIV. received his bride. The
king was then in the twenty-second year of his age.

Until within a week of the royal marriage, the king wrote frequently
to Mary Mancini. Then the correspondence was suddenly dropped. The
king never after seemed to manifest any interest in her fate.

After a few days of festivity, the court commenced, on the 15th of
June, its leisurely return toward Paris. Having reached Vincennes, the
illustrious cortege tarried for several days in the royal chateau
there, until preparations could be completed for a magnificent
entrance into the capital. The gorgeous spectacle took place on the
26th of August, 1660. For many weeks the saloons of the Louvre and the
Tuileries resounded with unintermitted revelry.

[Illustration: THE LOUVRE AND THE TUILERIES.]

Very cruelly the queen-mother sent a message to Mary Mancini,
expressing her regret that she could not be present at the royal
nuptials, and requiring her to come immediately to be present at the
entree of the king and queen into the metropolis, and to share in the
festivities of the palace. The order came to the crushed and bleeding
heart of Mary like a death-summons. Accompanied by her two sisters,
and with suitable attendants, she set forth on her sad journey. All
France was rejoicing over the royal marriage, and as her carriage
rapidly approached Paris, every hour pierced her heart with a new
pang. With all the fortitude she could summon, she could not retain
the roseate glow of health and happiness. Her cheeks were pale and
emaciate, and her forced smile only proclaimed more loudly the grief
which was consuming her heart. She alighted at the new palace of her
uncle, Cardinal Mazarin, and hastily retired to her apartment.

She had scarcely entered her room ere a letter from the cardinal was
presented to her, soliciting her hand for Prince Colonna, one of the
most illustrious nobles in wealth a