d La Valliere, "I cannot visit M. de
Saint-Aignan's rooms any more than I could M. de Guiche's. It is
impossible--impossible."

"And yet, Louise, I should have thought that, under the safe-conduct of
the king, you would venture anything."

"Under the safe-conduct of the king," she said, with a look full of
tenderness.

"You have faith in my word, I hope, Louise?"

"Yes, sire, when you are not present; but when you are present,--when
you speak to me,--when I look upon you, I have faith in nothing."

"What can possibly be done to reassure you?"

"It is scarcely respectful, I know, to doubt the king, but--for me--you
are _not_ the king."

"Thank Heaven!--I, at least, hope so most devoutly; you see how
anxiously I am trying to find or invent a means of removing all
difficulty. Stay; would the presence of a third person reassure you?"

"The presence of M. de Saint-Aignan would, certainly."

"Really, Louise, you wound me by your suspicions."

Louise did not answer, she merely looked steadfastly at him with that
clear, piercing gaze which penetrates the very heart, and said softly to
herself, "Alas! alas! it is not you of whom I am afraid,--it is not you
upon whom my doubts would fall."

"Well," said the king, sighing, "I agree; and M. de Saint-Aignan, who
enjoys the inestimable privilege of reassuring you, shall always be
present at our interviews, I promise you."

"You promise that, sire?"

"Upon my honor as a gentleman; and you, on your side--"

"Oh, wait, sire, that is not all yet; for such conversations ought, at
least, to have a reasonable motive of some kind for M. de Saint-Aignan."

"Dear Louise, every shade of delicacy of feeling is yours, and my only
study is to equal you on that point. It shall be just as you wish:
therefore our conversations shall have a reasonable motive, and I have
already hit upon one; so that from to-morrow, if you like--"

"To-morrow?"

"Do you meant that that is not soon enough?" exclaimed the king,
caressing La Valliere's hand between his own.

At this moment the sound of steps was heard in the corridor.

"Sire! sire!" cried La Valliere, "some one is coming; do you hear? Oh,
fly! fly! I implore you."

The king made but one bound from the chair where he was sitting to his
hiding-place behind the screen. He had barely time; for as he drew
one of the folds before him, the handle of the door was turned, and
Montalais appeared at the threshold. As a matter of course she e