deplore.

Adieu, Sire! Think no more about me, lest such a feeling, to which my
imagination might but all too readily lend itself, only beget links of
sympathy in my heart which conscience and repentance would fain destroy.

If God call me to himself, young though yet I am, He will have granted my
prayers; if He ordain me to live for a while longer in this desert of
penitence, it will never compensate for the duration of my error, nor for
the scandal of which I have been the cause.

Your subject from this time forth, LOUISE DE LA VALLIERE.

The King had not been expecting so desperate a resolve as this, nor did
he feel inclined to hinder her from making it. He left the Portuguese
ambassador, who witnessed his agitation, and hastened to Madame de la
Valliere's, who had left her apartments in the castle at daybreak. He
shed tears, being kind of heart and convinced that a body so graceful and
so delicate would never be able to resist the rigours and hardships of so
terrible a life.

The Carmelite nuns of the Rue Saint Jacques loudly proclaimed this
conversion, and in their vanity gladly received into their midst so
modest and distinguished a victim, driven thither through sheer despair.

The ceremony which these dames call "taking the dress" attracted the
entire Court to their church. The Queen herself desired to be present at
so harrowing a spectacle, and by a curious contradiction, of which her
capricious nature is capable, she shed floods of tears. La Valliere
seemed gentler, lovelier, more modest and more seductive than ever. In
the midst of the grief and tears which her courageous sacrifice provoked,
she never uttered a single sigh, nor did she change colour once. Hers
was a nature made for extremes; like Caesar, she said to herself, "Either
Rome or nothing!"

The Abbe de Bossuet, who had been charged to preach the sermon of
investiture, showed a good deal of wit by exhibiting none at all. The
King must have felt indebted to him for such reserve. Into his discourse
he had put mere vague commonplaces, which neither touch nor wound any
one; honeyed anathemas such as these may even pass for compliments.

This prelate has won for himself a great name and great wealth by words.
A proof of his cleverness exists in his having lived in grandeur,
opulence, and worldly happiness, while making people believe that he
condemned such things.

CHAPTER XIV.

Story of the Queen-mother's Marriage with Cardinal Mazarin