"I did not tell you to return,
comte."

"Certainly not, sire; but your majesty did not tell me to remain."

The king perceived that time was passing away, that if this strange
scene were prolonged it would complicate everything, and that a single
cloud upon the picture would eventually spoil the whole. Besides, the
king's heart was filled with two or three new ideas; he had just derived
fresh inspiration from the eloquent glances of Madame. Her look had said
to him: "Since they are jealous of you, divide their suspicions, for the
man who distrusts two rivals does not object to either in particular."
So that Madame, by this clever diversion, decided him. The king smiled
upon De Guiche, who did not comprehend a word of Madame's dumb language,
but he remarked that she pretended not to look at him, and he attributed
the pardon which had been conferred upon him to the princess's kindness
of heart. The king seemed only pleased with every one present. Monsieur
was the only one who did not understand anything about the matter. The
ballet began; the effect was more than beautiful. When the music, by
its bursts of melody, carried away these illustrious dancers, when the
simple, untutored pantomime of that period, only the more natural on
account of the very indifferent acting of the august actors, had reached
its culminating point of triumph, the theater shook with tumultuous
applause.

De Guiche shone like a sun, but like a courtly sun, that is resigned to
fill a subordinate part. Disdainful of a success of which Madame showed
no acknowledgement, he thought of nothing but boldly regaining the
marked preference of the princess. She, however, did not bestow a single
glance upon him. By degrees all his happiness, all his brilliancy,
subsided into regret and uneasiness; so that his limbs lost their power,
his arms hung heavily by his sides, and his head drooped as though he
was stupefied. The king, who had from this moment become in reality
the principal dancer in the quadrille, cast a look upon his vanquished
rival. De Guiche soon ceased to sustain even the character of the
courtier; without applause, he danced indifferently, and very soon
could not dance at all, by which accident the triumph of the king and of
Madame was assured.

Chapter XL: The Nymphs of the Park of Fontainebleau.

The king remained for a moment to enjoy a triumph as complete as it
could possibly be. He then turned towards Madame, for the purpose of
a