which have been adopted since this morning, with respect to us both?"

"My dear Louise, you answer my question by another, or rather, by ten
others, which is not answering me at all. I will tell you all you want
to know later, and as it is of secondary importance, you can wait. What
I ask you--for everything will depend upon that--is, whether there is or
is not any secret?"

"I do not know if there is any secret," said La Valliere; "but I
do know, for my part at least, that there has been great imprudence
committed. Since the foolish remark I made, and my still more silly
fainting yesterday, every one here is making remarks about us."

"Speak for yourself," said Montalais, laughing, "speak for yourself and
for Tonnay-Charente; for both of you made your declarations of love to
the skies, which unfortunately were intercepted."

La Valliere hung down her head. "Really you overwhelm me," she said.

"I?"

"Yes, you torture me with your jests."

"Listen to me, Louise. These are no jests, for nothing is more serious;
on the contrary, I did not drag you out of the chateau; I did not miss
attending mass; I did not pretend to have a cold, as Madame did, which
she has no more than I have; and, lastly, I did not display ten times
more diplomacy than M. Colbert inherited from M. de Mazarin, and makes
use of with respect to M. Fouquet, in order to find means of confiding
my perplexities to you, for the sole end and purpose that, when at
last we were alone, with no one to listen to us, you should deal
hypocritically with me. No, no; believe me, that when I ask you a
question, it is not from curiosity alone, but really because the
position is a critical one. What you said yesterday is now known,--it
is a text on which every one is discoursing. Every one embellishes it
to the utmost, and according to his own fancy; you had the honor last
night, and you have it still to-day, of occupying the whole court, my
dear Louise; and the number of tender and witty remarks which have been
ascribed to you, would make Mademoiselle de Scudery and her brother
burst from very spite, if they were faithfully reported."

"But, dearest Montalais," said the poor girl, "you know better than any
one exactly what I said, since you were present when I said it."

"Yes, I know. But that is not the question. I have not forgotten a
single syllable you uttered, but did you think what you were saying?"

Louise became confused. "What," she exclaimed, "more