returned the queen, placing her finger on her lips, to impose silence on her favorite.
“It is very strange,” remarked Madame de Motteville, after a pause.
“What is strange?” said the queen.
“Does your majesty remember the day when this pain attacked you for the first time?”
“I remember only that it was a grievously sad day for me, Motteville.”
“But your majesty did not always regard that day as a sad one.”
“Why?”
“Because three and twenty years ago, on that very day, his present majesty, your own glorious son, was born at the very same hour.”