balls out of it. The eager expectation, amid all these tediously slow preparations, was rather that of avidity than of curiosity. Saint-Aignan bent toward Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente to whisper to her, "Since we have each a number, let us unite our two chances. The bracelet shall be yours if I win, and if you are successful, deign to give me but one look of your beautiful eyes."
"No," said Athenaïs, "if you win the bracelet, keep it; every one for himself."
"You are without any pity," said Saint-Aignan, "and I will punish you by a quatrain:—
"'Beautiful Iris, to my vow
You are too opposed—'"
"Silence," said Athenaïs, "you will prevent me hearing the winning number."
"Number one," said the young girl who had drawn the mother-of-pearl from the Spanish leather bag.
"The king!" exclaimed the queen-mother.
"The king has won!" repeated the queen, delightedly.
"Oh! the king! your dream!" said Madame, joyously, in the ear of Anne of Austria.
The king was the only one who did not exhibit any satisfaction. He merely thanked Fortune for what she had done for him, in addressing a slight salutation to the young girl who had been chosen as her proxy. Then, receiving from the hands of Anne of Austria, amid the eager desire of the whole assembly, the casket inclosing the bracelets, he said, "Are these bracelets really beautiful, then?"
"Look at them," said Anne of Austria, "and judge for yourself."
The king looked at them, and said, "Yes, indeed, an admirable medallion. What perfect finish!"
"What perfect finish!" repeated Madame.
Queen Maria-Theresa easily saw, and that, too, at the very first glance, that the king would not offer the bracelets to her; but, as he did not seem either the least degree in the world disposed to offer them to Madame, she felt almost satisfied, or nearly so. The king sat down. The most intimate among the courtiers approached, one by one, for the purpose of admiring more closely the beautiful piece of workmanship, which soon, with the king's permission, was handed about from person to person. Immediately, every one, connoisseurs or not, uttered various exclamations of surprise, and overwhelmed the king with congratulations. There was, in fact, something for everybody to admire—the brilliants for some, and the cutting for others. The ladies present visibly displayed their impatience to see such a treasure monopolized by the gentlemen.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," said the king, whom nothing escaped, "one would almost think that you wore bracelets as the Sabines used to do; hand them for a little while for the inspection of the ladies, who seem to me to have, and with far greater right, some excuse for understanding such matters better than you."
These words appeared to Madame the commencement of a decision she expected. She gathered, besides, this happy belief from the glances of the queen-mother. The courtier who held them at the moment the king made this remark, amid the general agitation, hastened to place the bracelets in the hands of the queen, Maria-Theresa, who, knowing too well, poor woman, that they were not designed for her, hardly looked at them, and almost immediately passed them on to Madame. The latter, and—even more minutely than herself—Monsieur, gave the bracelets a long look of anxious and almost covetous desire. She then handed the jewels to those ladies who were near her, pronouncing this single word, but with an accent which was worth a long phrase, "Magnificent!"
The ladies who had received the bracelets from Madame's hands looked at them as long as they chose to examine them, and then made them circulate by passing them on toward the right. During this time the king was tranquilly conversing with De Guiche and Fouquet, rather letting them talk than himself listening. Accustomed to the set form of ordinary phrases, his ear, like that of all men who exercise an incontestable superiority over others, merely selected from the conversations held in various directions the indispensable word which requires reply. His attention, however, was now elsewhere, for it wandered as his eyes did.
Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente was the last of the ladies inscribed for tickets; and, as if she had ranked according to her name upon the list, she only had Montalais and La Valliere after her. When the bracelets reached these two latter, no one appeared to take any further notice of them. The humble hands which for a moment touched these jewels, deprived them of all their importance—a circumstance which did not, however, prevent Montalais from starting with joy, envy, and covetous desire, at the sight of the beautiful stones still more than at their magnificent workmanship. It is evident that if she were compelled to decide between the pecuniary value and the artistic beauty, Montalais would unhesitatingly have preferred diamonds to cameos, and her disinclination, therefore, to pass them to her companion, La Valliere, was very great. La Valliere fixed a look almost of indifference upon the jewels.
"Oh, how beautiful, how magnificent these bracelets are!" exclaimed Montalais; "and yet you do not go into ecstasies about them, Louise! You are no true woman, I am sure."
"Yes, I am indeed," replied the young girl, with an accent of the most charming melancholy; "but why desire that which cannot be ours?"
The king, his head bent forward, listened to what the young girl was saying. Hardly had the vibration of her voice reached his ear than he rose radiant with delight, and passing across the whole assembly, from the place where he stood, to La Valliere, "You are mistaken, mademoiselle," he said; "you are a woman, and every woman has a right to wear jewels, which are a woman's property."
"Oh, sire!" said La Valliere, "your majesty will not absolutely believe my modesty?"
"I believe you possess every virtue, mademoiselle; frankness as well as every other; I entreat you, therefore, to say frankly what you think of these bracelets?"
"That they are beautiful, sire, and cannot be offered to any other than a queen."
"I am delighted that such is your opinion, mademoiselle; the bracelets are yours, and the king begs your acceptance of them."
And as, with a movement almost resembling terror, La Valliere eagerly held out the casket to the king, the king gently pushed back La Valliere's trembling hand. A silence of astonishment, more profound than that of death, reigned in the assembly. And yet, from the side where the queens were, no one had heard what he had said, nor understood what he had done. A charitable friend, however, took upon herself to spread the news; it was Tonnay-Charente, to whom Madame had made a sign to approach.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Tonnay-Charente, "how happy that La Valliere is! the king has just given her the bracelets."
Madame bit her lips to such a degree that the blood appeared upon the surface of the skin. The young queen looked first at La Valliere and then at Madame, and began to laugh. Anne of Austria rested her chin upon her beautiful white hand, and remained for a long time absorbed by a suspicion which disturbed her mind, and by a terrible pang which stung her heart. De Guiche, observing Madame turn pale, and guessing the cause of her change of color, abruptly quitted the assembly and disappeared. Malicorne was then able to approach Montalais very quietly, and under cover of the general din of conversation said to her:
"Aure, you have our fortune and our future close beside you."
"Yes," was her reply, as she tenderly embraced La Valliere, whom, inwardly, she was tempted to strangle.
CHAPTER VIII.
