de la Valliere, has just fainted."

"Indeed! poor girl," said the princess, quietly, "what was the cause of
it?"

She then added in an undertone, "You forget, sire, that you wish others
to believe in your passion for this girl, and yet you remain here while
she is almost dying, perhaps, elsewhere."

"Ah! Madame," said the king, sighing, "how much more perfect you are in
your part than I am, and how actively you think of everything."

He then rose, saying loud enough for every one to hear him, "Permit
me to leave you, Madame; my uneasiness is very great, and I wish to
be quite certain, myself, that proper attention has been given to
Mademoiselle de la Valliere." And the king left again to return to La
Valliere, while those who had been present commented upon the king's
remark:--"My uneasiness is very great."

Chapter XLIII. The King's Secret.

On his way Louis met the Comte de Saint-Aignan. "Well, Saint-Aignan," he
inquired, with affected interest, "how is the invalid."

"Really, sire," stammered Saint-Aignan, "to my shame, I confess I do not
know."

"What! you do not know?" said the king, pretending to take in a serious
manner this want of attention for the object of his predilection.

"Will your majesty pardon me; but I have just met one of our three
loquacious wood-nymphs, and I confess that my attention has been taken
away from other matters."

"Ah!" said the king, eagerly, "you have found, then--"

"The one who deigned to speak of me in such advantageous terms; and,
having found mine, I was searching for yours, sire, when I had the
happiness to meet your majesty."

"Very well; but Mademoiselle de la Valliere before everything else,"
said the king, faithful to the character he had assumed.

"Oh! our charming invalid!" said Saint-Aignan; "how fortunately her
fainting fit came on, since your majesty had already occupied yourself
about her."

"What is the name of your fair lady, Saint-Aignan? Is it a secret?"

"It ought to be a secret, and a very great one, even; but your majesty
is well aware that no secret can possibly exist for you."

"Well, what is her name?"

"Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente."

"Is she pretty?"

"Exceedingly, sire; and I recognized the voice which pronounced my name
in such tender accents. I accosted her, questioned her as well as I
was able to do, in the midst of the crowd; and she told me, without
suspecting anything, that a little while ago she was under the great
oa