of the king.

"Will you not, Francoise?" he cried, with a ring of fear in his voice.

"May God make me worthy of such an honour, sire!" said she. "And here I
swear that if heaven double my life, every hour shall be spent in the
one endeavour to make you a happier man!"

She had knelt down, and the king, still holding her hand, knelt down
beside her.

"And I swear too," he cried, "that if my days also are doubled, you will
now and forever be the one and only woman for me."

And so their double oath was taken, an oath which was to be tested in
the future, for each did live almost double their years, and yet neither
broke the promise made hand in hand on that evening in the shadow-girt
chamber.

CHAPTER XII.

THE KING RECEIVES.

It may have been that Mademoiselle Nanon, the faithful _confidante_ of
Madame de Maintenon, had learned something of this interview, or it may
be that Pere la Chaise, with the shrewdness for which his Order is
famous, had come to the conclusion that publicity was the best means of
holding the king to his present intention; but whatever the source, it
was known all over the court next day that the old favourite was again
in disgrace, and that there was talk of a marriage between the king and
the governess of his children. It was whispered at the _petit lever_,
confirmed at the _grand entree_, and was common gossip by the time that
the king had returned from chapel. Back into wardrobe and drawer went
the flaring silks and the feathered hats, and out once more came the
sombre coat and the matronly dress. Scudery and Calpernedi gave place
to the missal and St. Thomas a Kempis, while Bourdaloue, after preaching
for a week to empty benches, found his chapel packed to the last seat
with weary gentlemen and taper-bearing ladies. By midday there was none
in the court who had not heard the tidings, save only Madame de
Montespan, who, alarmed by her lover's absence, had remained in haughty
seclusion in her room, and knew nothing of what had passed. Many there
were who would have loved to carry her the tidings; but the king's
changes had been frequent of late, and who would dare to make a mortal
enemy of one who might, ere many weeks were past, have the lives and
fortunes of the whole court in the hollow of her hand?

Louis, in his innate selfishness, had been so accustomed to regard every
event entirely from the side of how it would affect himself, that it had
never struck him that his