the
less yours, madame, so long as I should live."

"You owe me those sentiments," I resumed, with a trifle too much fire; "I
have a right to count on them. But it is most painful to me, I confess,
after having given all my youth to the King, to see him now cool down,
even in his courtesy. The hours which he used to pass with me he gives
to you, and it is impossible that this innovation should not seem
startling here, since all Paris is informed of it, and Mademoiselle de
l'Enclos has discussed it with you."

"I owe everything that I am to the goodness of the King," she answered
me. "Would you have me, when he comes to me, bid him go elsewhere, to
you or somebody else, it matters not?"

"No, but I should be glad if your countenance did not, at such a moment,
expand like a sunflower; I should like you, at the risk of somewhat
belying yourself, to have the strength to moderate and restrain that vein
of talk and conversation of which you have given yourself the supremacy
and monopoly; I wish you had the generosity to show, now and again, less
wit. This sort of regime and abstinence would not destroy you off-hand,
and the worst that could result to you from it would be to pass in his
eyes for a woman of a variable and intermittent wit; what a great
calamity!"

"Ah, madame, what is it you suggest!" the lady in waiting replied to me,
almost taking offence. "I have never been eccentric or singular with any
one in the world, and you want me to begin with my King! It cannot be, I
assure you! Suggest to me reasonable and possible things, and I will
enter into all your views with all my heart and without hesitation."

This reply shocked me to the point of irritation.

"I believed you long to be a simple and disinterested soul," I said to
her, "and it was in this belief that I gave you my cordial affection. Now
I read your heart, and all your projects are revealed to me. You are not
only greedy of respect and consideration, you are ambitious to the point
of madness. The King's widowhood has awakened all your wild dreams; you
confided to me fifteen years ago that the soothsayer of the Marechale
d'Albret had predicted for you a sceptre and a crown."

At these words, the governess made me a sign to lower my voice, and said
to me, with an accent of candour and good faith, which it is impossible
for me to forget: "I confided to you at the time that puerility of
society, just as the Marechale and the Marshal (without beli