tiquette, which he had begun to introduce at the court as an
element of every relation of life, Louis XIV. did not disturb himself;
he offered his hand to Madame without looking at Monsieur his brother,
and led the young princess to the door of her apartments. It was
remarked that at the threshold of the door, his majesty, freed from
every restraint, or not equal to the situation, sighed very deeply.
The ladies present--for nothing escapes a woman's glance--Mademoiselle
Montalais, for instance--did not fail to say to each other, "the king
sighed," and "Madame sighed too." This had been indeed the case. Madame
had sighed very noiselessly, but with an accompaniment very far more
dangerous for the king's repose. Madame had sighed, first closing her
beautiful black eyes, next opening them, and then, laden, as they were,
with an indescribable mournfulness of expression, she had raised them
towards the king, whose face at that moment visibly heightened in color.
The consequence of these blushes, of these interchanged sighs, and of
this royal agitation, was, that Montalais had committed an indiscretion
which had certainly affected her companion, for Mademoiselle de la
Valliere, less clear sighted, perhaps, turned pale when the king
blushed; and her attendance being required upon Madame, she tremblingly
followed the princess without thinking of taking the gloves, which court
etiquette required her to do. True it is that this young country girl
might allege as her excuse the agitation into which the king seemed to
be thrown, for Mademoiselle de la Valliere, busily engaged in closing
the door, had involuntarily fixed her eyes upon the king, who, as he
retired backwards, had his face towards it. The king returned to the
room where the card-tables were set out. He wished to speak to the
different persons there, but it was easy to see that his mind was
absent. He jumbled different accounts together, which was taken
advantage of by some of the noblemen who had retained those habits since
the time of Monsieur Mazarin--who had a poor memory, but was a good
calculator. In this way Monsieur Manicamp, with a thoughtless and absent
air--for M. Manicamp was the honestest man in the world appropriated
twenty thousand francs, which were littering the table, and which
did not seem to belong to any person in particular. In the same way,
Monsieur de Wardes, whose head was doubtless a little bewildered by the
occurrences of the evening, somehow for