discreet woman, and pretending to be observant of nothing that was passing, listened with the utmost attention to every word.

She heard nothing, however, but a very insignificant “hum” on the part of the Spanish duenna, who was the incarnation of caution — and a profound sigh on that of the queen. She looked up immediately.

“You are suffering?” she said.

“No, Motteville, no; why do you say that?”

“Your majesty almost groaned just now.”

“You are right; I did sigh, in truth.”

“Monsieur Valot is not far off; I believe he is in Madame’s apartment.”