“Do not exaggerate the service I have the happiness to render your Majesty. I have nothing to save for your Majesty; you are only the victim of perfidious plots.”

“That is true, that is true, my child,” said the queen, “you are right.”

“Give me then, that letter, madame; time presses.”

The queen ran to a little table, on which were ink, paper, and pens. She wrote two lines, sealed the letter with her private seal, and gave it to Mme. Bonacieux.

“And now,” said the queen, “we are forgetting one very necessary thing.”

“What is that, madame?”

“Money.”