Guiche, confess that you _did_ get a little sweet upon
Madame."

"I will never confess such a thing, monseigneur."

"Out of respect for me, I suppose; but I release you from your respect,
De Guiche. Confess, as if it were simply a question about Mademoiselle
de Chalais or Mademoiselle de la Valliere."

Then breaking off, he said, beginning to laugh again, "Comte, that
wasn't at all bad!--a remark like a sword, which cuts two ways at once.
I hit you and my brother at the same time, Chalais and La Valliere, your
affianced bride and his future lady love."

"Really, monseigneur," said the comte, "you are in a most brilliant humor
to-day."

"The fact is, I feel well, and then I am pleased to see you again. But
you were angry with me, were you not?"

"I, monseigneur? Why should I have been so?"

"Because I interfered with your sarabands and your other Spanish
amusements. Nay, do not deny it. On that day you left the princess's
apartments with your eyes full of fury; that brought you ill-luck, for
you danced in the ballet yesterday in a most wretched manner. Now don't
get sulky, De Guiche, for it does you no good, but makes you look like a
tame bear. If the princess did not look at you attentively yesterday, I
am quite sure of one thing."

"What is that, monseigneur? Your highness alarms me."

"She has quite forsworn you now," said the prince, with a burst of loud
laughter.

"Decidedly," thought Manicamp, "rank has nothing to do with it, and all
men are alike."

The prince continued: "At all events, you have now returned, and it is
to be hoped that the chevalier will become amiable again."

"How so, monseigneur: and by what miracle can I exercise such an
influence over M. de Lorraine?"

"The matter is very simple, he is jealous of you."

"Bah! it is not possible."

"It is the case, though."

"He does me too much honor."

"The fact is, that when you are here, he is full of kindness and
attention, but when you are gone he makes me suffer a perfect martyrdom.
I am like a see-saw. Besides, you do not know the idea that has struck
me?"

"I do not even suspect it."

"Well, then; when you were in exile--for you really were exiled, my poor
De Guiche--"

"I should think so, indeed; but whose fault was it?" said De Guiche,
pretending to speak in an angry tone.

"Not mine, certainly, my dear comte," replied his royal highness, "upon
my honor, I did not ask for the king to exile you--"

"No, not you, monsei