ch of poor
La Valliere's downfall, and he was not true knight enough to resist
the fear that he himself might be dragged down in the impending ruin.
Saint-Aignan did not reply to the king's questions except by short, dry
remarks, pronounced half-aloud; and by abrupt gestures, whose object was
to make things worse, and bring about a misunderstanding, the result
of which would be to free him from the annoyance of having to cross the
courtyards in open day, in order to follow his illustrious companion to
La Valliere's apartments. In the meantime the king's anger momentarily
increased; he made two or three steps towards the door as if to leave
the room, but returned. The young girl did not, however, raise her head,
although the sound of his footsteps might have warned her that her lover
was leaving her. He drew himself up, for a moment, before her, with his
arms crossed.

"For the last time, mademoiselle," he said, "will you speak? Will you
assign a reason for this change, this fickleness, for this caprice?"

"What can I say?" murmured La Valliere. "Do you not see, sire, that I am
completely overwhelmed at this moment; that I have no power of will, or
thought, or speech?"

"Is it so difficult, then, to speak the truth? You could have told me
the whole truth in fewer words than those in which you have expressed
yourself."

"But the truth about what, sire?"

"About everything."

La Valliere was just on the point of revealing the truth to the king,
her arms made a sudden movement as if they were about to open, but her
lips remained silent, and her hands again fell listlessly by her side.
The poor girl had not yet endured sufficient unhappiness to risk the
necessary revelation. "I know nothing," she stammered out.

"Oh!" exclaimed the king, "this is no longer mere coquetry, or caprice,
it is treason."

And this time nothing could restrain him. The impulse of his heart was
not sufficient to induce him to turn back, and he darted out of the room
with a gesture full of despair. Saint-Aignan followed him, wishing for
nothing better than to quit the place.

Louis XIV. did not pause until he reached the staircase, and grasping
the balustrade, said: "You see how shamefully I have been duped."

"How, sire?" inquired the favorite.

"De Guiche fought on the Vicomte de Bragelonne's account, and this
Bragelonne... oh! Saint-Aignan, she still loves him. I vow to you,
Saint-Aignan, that if, in three days from now, there were to