could read so much real greatness of character, and
such true generosity of disposition in her lover, that her heart really
warmed with affection towards him, whose passion for her was so pure and
delicate. Despite his fear of incurring her displeasure, De Guiche, by
retaining his position as a man of proud independence of feeling and
deep devotion, became almost a hero in her estimation, and reduced her
to the state of a jealous and little-minded woman. She loved him for
this so tenderly, that she could not refuse to give him a proof of her
affection.

"See how many words we have wasted," she said, taking his hand,
"suspicions, anxieties, mistrust, sufferings--I think we have enumerated
all those words."

"Alas! Madame, yes."

"Efface them from your heart as I drive them from mine. Whether La
Valliere does or does not love the king, and whether the king does
or does not love La Valliere--from this moment you and I will draw a
distinction in the two characters I have to perform. You open your eyes
so wide that I am sure you hardly understand me."

"You are so impetuous, Madame, that I always tremble at the fear of
displeasing you."

"And see how he trembles now, poor fellow," she said, with the most
charming playfulness of manner. "Yes, monsieur, I have two characters
to perform. I am the sister of the king, the sister-in-law of the
king's wife. In this character ought I not to take an interest in these
domestic intrigues? Come, tell me what you think?"

"As little as possible, Madame."

"Agreed, monsieur; but it is a question of dignity; and then, you
know, I am the wife of the king's brother." De Guiche sighed. "A
circumstance," she added, with an expression of great tenderness, "which
will remind you that I am always to be treated with the profoundest
respect." De Guiche fell at her feet, which he kissed, with the
religious fervor of a worshipper. "And I begin to think that, really and
truly, I have another character to perform. I was almost forgetting it."

"Name it, oh! name it," said De Guiche.

"I am a woman," she said, in a voice lower than ever, "and I love."
He rose, she opened her arms, and their lips met. A footstep was heard
behind the tapestry, and Mademoiselle de Montalais appeared.

"What do you want?" said Madame.

"M. de Guiche is wanted," replied Montalais, who was just in time to see
the agitation of the actors of these four characters; for De Guiche had
consistently carried out his pa