“Yet the other one has a beautiful voice.”
“Which one?”
“The lady who has fallen in love with the sun.”
“M. de Saint-Aignan!”
“Forgive me, sire.”
“Well, I am not sorry you should believe me to be an admirer of sweet voices as well as of beautiful eyes. I know you to be a terrible talker, and tomorrow I shall have to pay for the confidence I have shown you.”
“What do you mean, sire?”
“That tomorrow everyone will know that I have designs upon this little La Vallière; but be careful, Saint-Aignan, I have confided my secret to no one but you, and if anyone should speak to me about it, I shall know who has betrayed my secret.”
“You are angry, sire.”
“No; but you understand I do not wish to compromise the poor girl.”
“Do not be afraid, sire.”
“You promise me, then?”
“I give you my word of honor.”
Excellent
, thought the king, laughing to himself; now everyone will know tomorrow that I have been running about after La Vallière tonight.
Then, endeavoring to see where he was, he said: “Why, we have lost ourselves.”
“Not quite so bad as that, sire.”
“Where does that gate lead to?”
“To Rond-Point, sire.”
“Where were we going when we heard the sound of women’s voices?”
“Yes, sire, and the termination of a conversation in which I had the honor of hearing my own name pronounced by the side of Your Majesty’s.”
“You return to that subject too frequently, Saint-Aignan.”
“Your Majesty will forgive me, but I am delighted to know that a woman exists whose thoughts are occupied about me, without my knowledge, and without my having done anything to deserve it. Your Majesty cannot comprehend this satisfaction, for your rank and merit attract attention, and compel regard.”
“No, no, Saint-Aignan, believe me or not, as you like,” said the king, leaning familiarly upon Saint-Aignan’s arm and taking the path he thought would lead them to the château; “but this candid confession, this perfectly disinterested preference of one who will, perhaps, never attract my attention—in one word, the mystery of this adventure excites me, and the truth is, that if I were not so taken with La Vallière—”
“Do not let that interfere with Your Majesty’s intentions: you have time enough before you.”
“What do you mean?”
“La Vallière is said to be very strict in her ideas.”
“You excite my curiosity and I am anxious to see her again. Come, let us walk on.”
The king spoke untruly, for nothing, on the contrary, could make him less anxious, but he had a part to play, and so he walked on hurriedly. Saint-Aignan followed him at a short distance. Suddenly the king stopped; the courtier followed his example.
“Saint-Aignan,” he said, “do you not hear someone moaning?”
“Yes, sire, and weeping, too, it seems.”
“It is in this direction,” said the king. “It sounds like the tears and sobs of a woman.”
“Run,” said the king; and, following a bypath, they ran across the grass. As they approached, the cries were more distinctly heard.
“Help, help,” exclaimed two voices. The king and his companion redoubled their speed, and, as they approached nearer, the sighs they had heard were changed into loud sobs. The cry of “Help! help!” was again repeated; at the sound of which, the king and Saint-Aignan increased the rapidity of their pace. Suddenly at the other side of a ditch, under the branches of a willow, they perceived a woman on her knees, holding another in her arms who seemed to have fainted. A few paces from them, a third, standing in the middle of the path, was calling for assistance. Perceiving the two gentlemen, whose rank she could not tell, her cries for assistance were redoubled. The king, who was in advance of his companion, leaped across the ditch, and reached the group at the very moment when, from the end of the path which led to the château, a dozen persons were approaching, who had been drawn to the spot by the same cries that had attracted the attention of the king and M. de Saint-Aignan.
“What is the matter, young ladies?” said Louis.
“The king!” exclaimed Mademoiselle de Montalais, in her astonishment, letting La Vallière’s head fall upon the ground.
“Yes, it is the king; but that is no reason why you should abandon your companion. Who is she?”
“It is Mademoiselle de La Vallière, sire.”
“Mademoiselle de La Vallière!”
“Yes, sire, she has just fainted.”
“Poor child!” said the king. “Quick, quick, fetch a surgeon.” But however great the anxiety with which the king had pronounced these words may have seemed to others, he had not so carefully schooled himself but that they appeared, as well as the gesture which accompanied them, somewhat cold to Saint-Aignan, to whom the king had confided the sudden love with which she had inspired him.
“Saint-Aignan,” continued the king, “watch over Mademoiselle de La Vallière, I beg. Send for a surgeon. I will hasten forward and inform Madame of the accident which has befallen one of her maids of honor.” And, in fact, while M. de Saint-Aignan was busily engaged in making preparations for carrying Mademoiselle de La Vallière to the château, the king hurried forward, happy to have an opportunity of approaching Madame, and of speaking to her under a colorable pretext. Fortunately, a carriage was passing; the coachman was told to stop, and the persons who were inside, having been informed of the accident, eagerly gave up their seats to Mademoiselle de La Vallière. The current of fresh air produced by the rapid motion of the carriage soon recalled her to her senses. Having reached the château, she was able, though very weak, to alight from the carriage, and, with the assistance of Athenaïs and of Montalais, to reach the inner apartments. They made her sit down in one of the rooms of the ground floor. After a while, as the accident had not produced much effect upon those who had been walking, the promenade was resumed. During this time, the king had found Madame beneath a tree with overhanging branches, and had seated himself by her side.
“Take care,
