onfidence
in her. Hardly had she watched the king move away, than she set out in
search of Saint-Aignan. Saint-Aignan was never very difficult to find;
he was like the smaller vessels that always follow in the wake of, and
as tenders to, the larger ships. Saint-Aignan was the very man whom
Madame needed in her then state of mind. And as for him, he only looked
for worthier ears than others he had found to have an opportunity of
recounting the event in all its details. And so he did not spare Madame
a single word of the whole affair. When he had finished, Madame said to
him, "Confess, now, that is his all a charming invention."

"Invention, no; a true story, yes."

"Confess, whether invention or true story, that it was told to you as
you have told it to me, but that you were not there."

"Upon my honor, Madame, I was there."

"And you think that these confessions may have made an impression on the
king?"

"Certainly, as those of Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente did upon me,"
replied Saint-Aignan; "do not forget, Madame, that Mademoiselle de la
Valliere compared the king to the sun; that was flattering enough."

"The king does not permit himself to be influenced by such flatteries."

"Madame, the king is just as much Adonis as Apollo; and I saw plain
enough just now when La Valliere fell into his arms."

"La Valliere fell into the king's arms!"

"Oh! it was the most graceful picture possible; just imagine, La
Valliere had fallen back fainting, and--"

"Well! what did you see?--tell me--speak!"

"I saw what ten other people saw at the same time as myself; I saw that
when La Valliere fell into his arms, the king almost fainted himself."

Madame smothered a subdued cry, the only indication of her smothered
anger.

"Thank you," she said, laughing in a convulsive manner, "you relate
stories delightfully, M. de Saint-Aignan." And she hurried away, alone,
and almost suffocated by painful emotion, towards the chateau.

Chapter XLIV. Courses de Nuit.

Monsieur quitted the princess in the best possible humor, and feeling
greatly fatigued, retired to his apartments, leaving every one to finish
the night as he chose. When in his room, Monsieur began to dress for the
night with careful attention, which displayed itself from time to time
in paroxysms of satisfaction. While his attendants were engaged in
curling his hair, he sang the principal airs of the ballet which the
violins had played, and to which the king ha