"Ah, my child, do not speak of State affairs. You are not yet learned
enough in them. Let me sleep, if I can, before the hour of my toilette.
My eyes are burning, and yours also, perhaps."

Saying these words, the amiable Queen laid her head upon the pillow which
covered the casket, and soon Marie saw her fall asleep through sheer
fatigue. She then rose, and, seating herself in a great, tapestried,
square armchair, clasped her hands upon her knees, and began to reflect
upon her painful situation. Consoled by the aspect of her gentle
protectress, she often raised her eyes to watch her slumber, and sent her
in secret all the blessings which love showers upon those who protect it,
sometimes kissing the curls of her blond hair, as if by this kiss she
could convey to her soul all the ideas favorable to the thought ever
present to her mind.

The Queen's slumber was prolonged, while Marie thought and wept.
However, she remembered that at ten o'clock she must appear at the royal
toilette before all the court. She resolved to cast aside reflection,
to dry her tears, and she took a thick folio volume placed upon a table
inlaid with enamel and medallions; it was the 'Astree' of M. d'Urfe--
a work 'de belle galanterie' adored by the fair prudes of the court.
The unsophisticated and straightforward mind of Marie could not enter
into these pastoral loves. She was too simple to understand the
'bergeres du Lignon', too clever to be pleased at their discourse, and
too impassioned to feel their tenderness. However, the great popularity
of the romance so far influenced her that she sought to compel herself to
take an interest in it; and, accusing herself internally every time that
she felt the ennui which exhaled from the pages of the book, she ran
through it with impatience to find something to please and transport her.