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140 and requited injuries—for assuredly forgiveness formed no part of her creed. She even put aside the boughs with somewhat of an air of condescension.

"My first struggle," thought she, "must be against the influence of his mother. Gratitude! we owe none to Anne of Austria! We are just the puppets she destines for the amusement of her son—toys to guard against graver thoughts—the ornaments of the chariot, while she guides the reins. Fickle—unloving, is there one about her whom she would not sacrifice to her interests—ay, even to her whims? Holy Madonna! but I do respect my uncle's genius when it has so controlled our false and wilful Queen;—I may chance to save him some future trouble."

It is singular the charm that youth flings over both its exaggeration and its selfishness—perhaps they are pardoned for their very unconsciousness. Its expectations are unreasonable; but they are entertained in such good faith, that we first envy and then excuse the state of mind which admits them, and forgive their present folly, from our conviction of their coming disappointment. It is our own sense of superiority—the conscious superiority of knowledge, dear bought by experience, that makes us thus charitable. In youth, too, selfishness is divested of its most obnoxious part—