love."

"You are in error," replied Montalais; "Louise did love you."

Raoul started.

"Not with love, I know; but she liked you, and you ought to have married
her before you set out for London."

Raoul broke into a sinister laugh, which made Montalais shudder.

"You tell me that very much at your ease, mademoiselle. Do people marry
whom they like? You forget that the king then kept for himself as his
mistress her of whom we are speaking."

"Listen," said the young woman, pressing the hands of Raoul in her own,
"you were wrong in every way; a man of your age ought never to leave a
woman of hers alone."

"There is no longer any faith in the world, then," said Raoul.

"No, vicomte," said Montalais, quietly. "Nevertheless, let me tell you
that, if, instead of loving Louise coldly and philosophically, you had
endeavored to awaken her to love--"

"Enough, I pray you, mademoiselle," said Raoul. "I feel as though you
are all, of both sexes, of a different age from me. You can laugh, and
you can banter agreeably. I, mademoiselle, I loved Mademoiselle de--"
Raoul could not pronounce her name,--"I loved her well! I put my faith
in her--now I am quits by loving her no longer."

"Oh, vicomte!" said Montalais, pointing to his reflection in a
looking-glass.

"I know what you mean, mademoiselle; I am much altered, am I not? Well!
Do you know why? Because my face is the mirror of my heart, the outer
surface changed to match the mind within."

"You are consoled, then?" said Montalais, sharply.

"No, I shall never be consoled."

"I don't understand you, M. de Bragelonne."

"I care but little for that. I do not quite understand myself."

"You have not even tried to speak to Louise?"

"Who! I?" exclaimed the young man, with eyes flashing fire; "I!--Why do
you not advise me to marry her? Perhaps the king would consent now." And
he rose from his chair full of anger.

"I see," said Montalais, "that you are not cured, and that Louise has
one enemy the more."

"One enemy the more!"

"Yes; favorites are but little beloved at the court of France."

"Oh! while she has her lover to protect her, is not that enough? She
has chosen him of such a quality that her enemies cannot prevail against
her." But, stopping all at once, "And then she has you for a friend,
mademoiselle," added he, with a shade of irony which did not glide off
the cuirass.

"Who! I?--Oh, no! I am no longer one of those whom Mademoiselle de la
Valliere