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Rh whom the whole wide world is but a desert. Ay, such a love is indeed heaven or hell!" And she flung herself back in her chair, and gave way to one of those fits of absence in which she was accustomed to indulge, with equal disregard of time, place, and company.

The young King looked tenderly at Mademoiselle Mancini, who gave him a glance quite as tender in return—not, however, unobserved. His mother had been for some time past a displeased spectator of a predilection which might become dangerous. With her usual dissimulation, she refrained from evincing any outward sign of uneasiness, and, beckoning Madame de Mercœur, apparently made some request. Madame de Mercœur crossed the room to Francesca, and informed her that the Queen had heard of her musical skill, and wished herself to judge of a voice that had been so extolled.

Such a request was a command, though one she felt inclined, had it been possible, to disobey. Her vanity had been too little called forth for her to rejoice in display; she was too indifferent to her audience to have any anxiety about pleasing them—and she was perfectly aware of her own powers. Moreover, she was actuated by a feeling between indignation and disdain at being thus