k, he half-opened his door very gently. D'Artagnan was at his
post. His majesty was pale, and seemed wearied; he had not, moreover,
quite finished dressing.

"Send for M. de Saint-Aignan," he said.

Saint-Aignan was probably awaiting a summons, for the messenger, when he
reached his apartment, found him already dressed. Saint-Aignan hastened
to the king in obedience to the summons. A moment afterwards the king
and Saint-Aignan passed by together--the king walking first. D'Artagnan
went to the window which looked out upon the courtyard; he had no need
to put himself to the trouble of watching in what direction the king
went, for he had no difficulty in guessing beforehand where his majesty
was going. The king, in fact, bent his steps towards the apartments
of the maids of honor,--a circumstance which in no way astonished
D'Artagnan, for he more than suspected, although La Valliere had not
breathed a syllable on the subject, that the king had some kind of
reparation to make. Saint-Aignan followed him as he had done the
previous evening, rather less uneasy in his mind, though still slightly
agitated, for he fervently trusted that at seven o'clock in the morning
there might be only himself and the king awake amongst the august guests
at the palace. D'Artagnan stood at the window, careless and perfectly
calm in his manner. One could almost have sworn that he noticed nothing,
and was utterly ignorant who were these two hunters after adventures,
passing like shadows across the courtyard, wrapped up in their cloaks.
And yet, all the while that D'Artagnan appeared not to be looking at
them at all, he did not for one moment lose sight of them, and while
he whistled that old march of the musketeers, which he rarely recalled
except under great emergencies, he conjectured and prophesied how
terrible would be the storm which would be raised on the king's return.
In fact, when the king entered La Valliere's apartment and found the
room empty and the bed untouched, he began to be alarmed, and called out
to Montalais, who immediately answered the summons; but her astonishment
was equal to the king's. All that she could tell his majesty was, that
she had fancied she had heard La Valliere's weeping during a portion of
the night, but, knowing that his majesty had paid her a visit, she had
not dared to inquire what was the matter.

"But," inquired the king, "where do you suppose she is gone?"

"Sire," replied Montalais, "Louise is of a v