, that, as if she had heard Montalais's muttered
side-remark, she did not speak a word to her maid of honor, but, casting
down her eyes, retired at once to her bedroom. Montalais, observing
this, stood listening for a moment, and then heard Madame lock and bolt
her door. By this, she knew that the rest of the evening was at her own
disposal; and making behind the door which had just been closed, a
gesture which indicated but little real respect for the princess, she
went down the staircase in search of Malicorne, who was very busily
engaged at that moment in watching a courier, who, covered with dust,
had just left the Comte de Guiche's apartments. Montalais knew that
Malicorne was engaged in a matter of some importance; she therefore
allowed him to look and stretch out his neck as much as he pleased; and
it was only when Malicorne had resumed his natural position that she
touched him on the shoulder.

"Well," said Montalais, "what is the latest intelligence you have?"

"M. de Guiche is in love with Madame."

"Fine news truly! I know something more recent than that."

"Well, what do you know?"

"That Madame is in love with M. de Guiche."

"The one is the consequence of the other."

"Not always, my good monsieur."

"Is that remark intended for me?"

"Present company are always excepted."

"Thank you," said Malicorne. "Well, and in the other direction, what is
there fresh?"

"The king wished, this evening, after the lottery, to see Mademoiselle
de la Valliere."

"Well, and he has seen her?"

"No, indeed."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The door was shut and locked."

"So that--"

"So that the king was obliged to go back again, looking very sheepish,
like a thief who has forgotten his implements."

"Good."

"And in the third direction," inquired Montalais.

"The courier who has just arrived for De Guiche came from M. de
Bragelonne."

"Excellent," said Montalais, clapping her hands together.

"Why so?"

"Because we have work to do. If we get weary now, something unfortunate
will be sure to happen."

"We must divide the work then," said Malicorne, "in order to avoid
confusion."

"Nothing easier," replied Montalais. "Three intrigues, carefully nursed,
and carefully encouraged, will produce, one with another, and taking a
low average, three love-letters a day."

"Oh!" exclaimed Malicorne, shrugging his shoulders, "you cannot mean
what you say, darling; three letters a day, that may do for s