," said she, "that there
is a great sin on your conscience?"

"What sin, mademoiselle?" stammered the unfortunate girl, looking round
her for support, without finding it.

"Eh!--why," continued Athenais, "the poor young man was affianced to
you; he loved you; you cast him off."

"Well, that is a right which every honest woman has," said Montalais, in
an affected tone. "When we know we cannot constitute the happiness of a
man, it is much better to cast him off."

"Cast him off! or refuse him!--that's all very well," said Athenais,
"but that is not the sin Mademoiselle de la Valliere has to reproach
herself with. The actual sin is sending poor Bragelonne to the wars; and
to wars in which death is so very likely to be met with." Louise pressed
her hand over her icy brow. "And if he dies," continued her pitiless
tormentor, "you will have killed him. That is the sin."

Louise, half-dead, caught at the arm of the captain of the musketeers,
whose face betrayed unusual emotion. "You wished to speak with me,
Monsieur d'Artagnan," said she, in a voice broken by anger and pain.
"What had you to say to me?"

D'Artagnan made several steps along the gallery, holding Louise on his
arm; then, when they were far enough removed from the others--"What
I had to say to you, mademoiselle," replied he, "Mademoiselle de
Tonnay-Charente has just expressed; roughly and unkindly, it is true but
still in its entirety."

She uttered a faint cry; pierced to the heart by this new wound, she
went her way, like one of those poor birds which, struck unto death,
seek the shade of the thicket in which to die. She disappeared at one
door, at the moment the king was entering by another. The first glance
of the king was directed towards the empty seat of his mistress. Not
perceiving La Valliere, a frown came over his brow; but as soon as he
saw D'Artagnan, who bowed to him--"Ah! monsieur!" cried he, "you _have_
been diligent! I am much pleased with you." This was the superlative
expression of royal satisfaction. Many men would have been ready to lay
down their lives for such a speech from the king. The maids of honor and
the courtiers, who had formed a respectful circle round the king on his
entrance, drew back, on observing he wished to speak privately with
his captain of the musketeers. The king led the way out of the gallery,
after having again, with his eyes, sought everywhere for La Valliere,
whose absence he could not account for. The moment th