Mazarin opened the coffer; a knife, covered with rust, and
two letters, one of which was stained with blood, alone met
his gaze.

"What are these things?" he asked.

"What are these things?" replied Anne, with queen-like
dignity, extending toward the open coffer an arm, despite
the lapse of years, still beautiful. "These two letters are
the only ones I ever wrote to him. This knife is the knife
with which Felton stabbed him. Read the letters and see if I
have lied or spoken the truth."

But Mazarin, notwithstanding this permission, instead of
reading the letters, took the knife which the dying
Buckingham had snatched out of the wound and sent by Laporte
to the queen. The blade was red, for the blood had become
rust; after a momentary examination during which the queen
became as white as the cloth which covered the altar on
which she was leaning, he put it back into the coffer with
an involuntary shudder.

"It is well, madame, I believe your oath."

"No, no, read," exclaimed the queen, indignantly; "read, I
command you, for I am resolved that everything shall be
finished to-night and never will I recur to this subject
again. Do you think," she said, with a ghastly smile, "that
I shall be inclined to reopen this coffer to answer any