eased, and she fell
forward, like the flower Virgil alludes to, which the scythe of the
reaper touched as it passed over. The king, at these words, at this
vehement entreaty, no longer retained either ill-will or doubt in his
mind; his whole heart seemed to expand at the glowing breath of an
affection which proclaimed itself in such a noble and courageous
language. When, therefore, he heard the passionate confession of that
young girl's affection, his strength seemed to fail him, and he hid his
face in his hands. But when he felt La Valliere's hands clinging to his
own, when their warm pressure fired his blood, he bent forward, and
passing his arm round La Valliere's waist, he raised her from the ground
and pressed her against his heart. But she, her drooping head fallen
forward on her bosom, seemed to have ceased to live. The king,
terrified, called out for Saint-Aignan. Saint-Aignan, who had carried
his discretion so far as to remain without stirring in his corner,
pretending to wipe away a tear, ran forward at the king's summons. He
then assisted Louis to seat the young girl upon a couch, slapped her
hands, sprinkled some Hungary water over her face, calling out all the
while, "Come, come, it is all over; the king believes you, and forgives
you. There, there now! take care, or you will agitate his majesty too
much; his majesty is so sensitive, so tender-hearted. Now, really,
Mademoiselle de la Valliere, you must pay attention, for the king is
very pale."

The fact was, the king was visibly losing color. But La Valliere did not
move.

"Do pray recover," continued Saint-Aignan, "I beg, I implore you; it is
really time you should; think only of one thing, that if the king should
become unwell, I should be obliged to summon his physician. What a state
of things that would be! So do pray rouse yourself; make an effort, pray
do, and do it at once, too."

It was difficult to display more persuasive eloquence than Saint-Aignan
did, but something still more powerful and of a more energetic nature
than this eloquence aroused La Valliere. The king, who was kneeling
before her, covered the palms of her hands with those burning kisses
which are to the hands what a kiss upon the lips is to the face. La
Valliere's senses returned to her; she languidly opened her eyes, and,
with a dying look, murmured, "Oh! sire, has your majesty pardoned me,
then?"

The king did not reply, for he was still too much overcome. Saint-Aignan
thou