trembling with
happiness as Louise's hand rested on his head, grew giddy from excess
of joy, and momentarily awaited either the painter's or Saint-Aignan's
return to break the sweet illusion. But the door remained closed, and
neither Saint-Aignan nor the painter appeared, nor did the hangings even
move. A deep mysterious silence reigned in the room--a silence which
seemed to influence even the song-birds in their gilded prisons. The
king, completely overcome, turned round his head and buried his burning
lips in La Valliere's hands, who, herself faint, with excess of emotion,
pressed her trembling hands against her lover's lips. Louis threw
himself upon his knees, and as La Valliere did not move her head, the
king's forehead being within reach of her lips, she furtively passed
her lips across the perfumed locks which caressed her cheeks. The king
seized her in his arms, and, unable to resist the temptation, they
exchanged their first kiss, that burning kiss, which changes love into
delirium. Suddenly, a noise upon the upper floor was heard, which had,
in fact, continued, though it had remained unnoticed, for some time; it
had at last aroused La Valliere's attention, though but slowly so. As
the noise, however, continued, as it forced itself upon the attention,
and recalled the poor girl from her dreams of happiness to the sad
realities of life, she rose in a state of utter bewilderment, though
beautiful in her disorder, saying:

"Some one is waiting for me above. Louis, Louis, do you not hear?"

"Well! and am I not waiting for you, also?" said the king, with infinite
tenderness of tone. "Let others henceforth wait for you."

But she gently shook her head, as she replied: "Happiness hidden...
power concealed... my pride should be as silent as my heart."

The noise was again resumed.

"I hear Montalais's voice," she said, and she hurried up the staircase;
the king followed her, unable to let her leave his sight, and covering
her hand with his kisses. "Yes, yes," repeated La Valliere, who had
passed half-way through the opening. "Yes, it is Montalais who is
calling me; something important must have happened."

"Go then, dearest love," said the king, "but return quickly."

"No, no, not to-day, sire! Adieu! adieu!" she said, as she stooped down
once more to embrace her lover--and escaped. Montalais was, in fact,
waiting for her, very pale and agitated.

"Quick, quick! _he_ is coming," she said.

"Who--who is coming