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- Александр Дюма
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- Стр. 201/849
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"
No
,
sire
.
"
"
Then
you
will
appear
?
"
"
Yes
,
sire
.
"
"
That
is
well
,
"
said
the
king
,
retiring
,
"
that
is
well
;
I
count
upon
it
.
"
The
queen
made
a
curtsy
,
less
from
etiquette
than
because
her
knees
were
sinking
under
her
.
The
king
went
away
enchanted
.
"
I
am
lost
,
"
murmured
the
queen
,
"
lost
!
--
for
the
cardinal
knows
all
,
and
it
is
he
who
urges
on
the
king
,
who
as
yet
knows
nothing
but
will
soon
know
everything
.
I
am
lost
!
My
God
,
my
God
,
my
God
!
"
She
knelt
upon
a
cushion
and
prayed
,
with
her
head
buried
between
her
palpitating
arms
.
In
fact
,
her
position
was
terrible
.
Buckingham
had
returned
to
London
;
Mme.
Chevreuse
was
at
Tours
.
More
closely
watched
than
ever
,
the
queen
felt
certain
,
without
knowing
how
to
tell
which
,
that
one
of
her
women
had
betrayed
her
.
Laporte
could
not
leave
the
Louvre
;
she
had
not
a
soul
in
the
world
in
whom
she
could
confide
.
Thus
,
while
contemplating
the
misfortune
which
threatened
her
and
the
abandonment
in
which
she
was
left
,
she
broke
out
into
sobs
and
tears
.
"
Can
I
be
of
service
to
your
Majesty
?
"
said
all
at
once
a
voice
full
of
sweetness
and
pity
.
