the rain had not been falling in torrents. He himself remained standing before her with his head uncovered. After a few minutes, however, some drops of rain penetrated through the branches of the tree and fell on the king's forehead, who did not pay any attention to it.
"Oh, sire!" murmured La Valliere, pushing the king's hat toward him. But the king simply bowed, and determinedly refused to cover his head.
"Now or never is the time to offer your place," said Fouquet in Aramis' ear.
"Now or never is the time to listen, and not lose a syllable of what they may have to say to each other," replied Aramis in Fouquet's ear.
In fact, they both remained perfectly silent, and the king's voice reached them where they were.
"Believe me," said the king, "I perceive, or rather I can imagine your uneasiness; believe how sincerely I regret to have isolated you from the rest of the company, and to have brought you, also, to a spot where you will be inconvenienced by the rain. You are wet already, and perhaps are cold, too?"
"No, sire."
"And yet you tremble?"
"I am afraid, sire, that my absence may be misinterpreted; at a moment, too, when all the others are reunited."
"I would not hesitate to propose returning to the carriages, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, but pray look and listen, and tell me if it be possible to attempt to make the slightest progress at the present?"
In fact the thunder was still rolling, and the rain continued to fall in torrents.
"Besides," continued the king, "no possible interpretation can be made which would be to your discredit. Are you not with the king of France; in other words, with the first gentleman of the kingdom?"
"Certainly, sire," replied La Valliere, "and it is a very distinguished honor for me; it is not, therefore, for myself that I fear the interpretations that may be made."
"For whom, then?"
"For yourself, sire."
"For me?" said the king, smiling; "I do not understand you."
"Has your majesty already forgotten what took place yesterday evening in her highness's apartments?"
"Oh! forget that, I beg, or allow me to remember it for no other purpose than to thank you once more for your letter, and—"
"Sire," interrupted La Valliere, "the rain is falling, and your majesty's head is uncovered."
"I entreat you not to think of anything but yourself."
"Oh! I," said La Valliere, smiling, "I am a country girl, accustomed to roaming through the meadows of the Loire and the gardens of Blois, whatever the weather may be. And, as for my clothes," she added, looking at her simple muslin dress, "your majesty sees they do not run much risk."
"Indeed, I have already noticed, more than once, that you owed nearly everything to yourself and nothing to your toilet. Your freedom from coquetry is one of your greatest charms in my eyes."
"Sire, do not make me out better than I am, and say merely, 'You cannot be a coquette.'"
"Why so?"
"Because," said La Valliere, smiling, "I am not rich."
"You admit, then," said the king, quickly, "that you have a love for beautiful things?"
"Sire, I only regard those things as beautiful which are within my reach. Everything which is too highly placed for me—"
"You are indifferent to?"
"Is foreign to me, as being prohibited."
"And I," said the king, "do not find that you are at my court on the footing you should be. The services of your family have not been sufficiently brought under my notice. The advancement of your family has been cruelly neglected by my uncle."
"On the contrary, sire. His royal highness, the Duke of Orleans, had always been exceedingly kind toward M. de Saint-Remy, my father-in-law. The services rendered were humble, and, properly speaking, our services have been adequately recognized. It is not every one who is happy enough to find opportunities of serving his sovereign with distinction. I have no doubt at all, that, if ever opportunities had been met with, my family's actions would; but that happiness has never been ours."
"In that case, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, it belongs to kings to repair the want of opportunity, and most delightedly do I undertake to repair, in your instance, and with the least possible delay, the wrongs of fortune toward you."
"Nay, sire," cried La Valliere, eagerly; "leave things, I beg, as they now are."
"Is it possible! you refuse what I ought, and what I wish to do for you?"
"All I desired has been granted me, when the honor was conferred upon me of forming one of Madame's household."
"But if you refuse for yourself, at least accept for your family."
"Your generous intention, sire, bewilders and makes me apprehensive, for, in doing for my family what your kindness urges you to do, your majesty will raise up enemies for us, and enemies for yourself too. Leave me in my mediocrity, sire; of all the feelings and sentiments I experience, leave me to enjoy that pleasing delicacy of disinterestedness."
"The sentiments you express," said the king, "are indeed admirable."
"Quite true," murmured Aramis in Fouquet's ear, "and he cannot be accustomed to them."
"But," replied Fouquet, "suppose she were to make a similar reply to my letter."
"True!" said Aramis, "let us not anticipate, but wait the conclusion."
"And then, dear Monsieur d'Herblay," added the surintendant, hardly able to appreciate the sentiments which La Valliere had just expressed, "it is very often a sound calculation to seem disinterested with monarchs."
"Exactly what I was thinking this very minute," said Aramis. "Let us listen."
The king approached nearer to La Valliere, and as the rain dripped more and more through the foliage of the oak, he held his hat over the head of the young girl, who raised her beautiful blue eyes toward the royal hat which sheltered her, and shook her head, sighing deeply as she did so.
"What melancholy thought," said the king, "can possibly reach your heart when I place mine as a rampart before it?"
"I will tell you, sire. I had already once before broached this question, which is so difficult for a young girl of my age to discuss, but your majesty imposed silence on me. Your majesty belongs not to yourself alone, you are married; and every sentiment which would separate your majesty from the queen, in leading your majesty to take notice of me, will be a source of the profoundest sorrow for the queen." The king endeavored to interrupt the young girl, but she continued with a suppliant gesture. "The Queen Maria, with an attachment which can be so well understood, follows with her eyes every step of your majesty which separates you from her. Happy enough in having had her fate united to your own, she weepingly implores Heaven to preserve you to her, and is jealous of the faintest throb of your heart bestowed elsewhere."
