your scruples, Louise; I will consult my father."

"Reflect, M. Raoul; wait."

"Wait! it is impossible. Reflect, Louise, when _you_ are concerned! it
would be insulting,--give me your hand, dear Louise; I am my own master.
My father will consent, I know; give me your hand, do not keep me
waiting thus. One word in answer, one word only; if not, I shall begin
to think that, in order to change you forever, nothing more was needed
than a single step in the palace, a single breath of favor, a smile from
the queen, a look from the king."

Raoul had no sooner pronounced this latter word, than La Valliere became
as pale as death, no doubt from fear at seeing the young man excite
himself. With a movement as rapid as thought, she placed both her
hands in those of Raoul, and then fled, without adding a syllable;
disappearing without casting a look behind her. Raoul felt his whole
frame tremble at the contact of her hand; he received the compact as a
solemn bargain wrung by affection from her child-like timidity.

Chapter XV. The Consent of Athos.

Raoul quitted the Palais Royal full of ideas that admitted no delay in
execution. He mounted his horse in the courtyard, and followed the road
to Blois, while the marriage festivities of Monsieur and the princess of
England were being celebrated with exceeding animation by the courtiers,
but to the despair of De Guiche and Buckingham. Raoul lost no time
on the road, and in sixteen hours he arrived at Blois. As he traveled
along, he marshaled his arguments in the most becoming manner. Fever is
an argument that cannot be answered, and Raoul had an attack. Athos
was in his study, making additions to his memoirs, when Raoul entered,
accompanied by Grimaud. Keen-sighted and penetrating, a mere glance at
his son told him that something extraordinary had befallen him.

"You seem to come on a matter of importance," said he to Raoul, after he
had embraced him, pointing to a seat.

"Yes, monsieur," replied the young man; "and I entreat you to give me
the same kind attention that has never yet failed me."

"Speak, Raoul."

"I present the case to you, monsieur, free from all preface, for that
would be unworthy of you. Mademoiselle de la Valliere is in Paris as one
of Madame's maids of honor. I have pondered deeply on the matter; I love
Mademoiselle de la Valliere above everything; and it is not proper to
leave her in a position where her reputation, her virtue even, may be
assailed. It