“Nothing,” — the cardinal spoke in his most conciliatory manner — ”except to beg of you to forgive my unworthy suspicions.
I love you so tenderly that I cannot help being jealous, even of the past.”
A smile, which was indefinable, passed over the lips of the queen.
“Since you have no further interrogations to make, leave me, I beseech you,” she said. “I wish, after such a scene, to be alone.”
Mazarin bent low before her.
“I will retire, madame. Do you permit me to return?”
“Yes, to-morrow.”
The cardinal took the queen’s hand