se at his approach. Everybody arose at the same
time, including Porthos, who was just finishing an almond cake, capable
of making the jaws of a crocodile stick together. The supper was over.

CHAPTER XXII.

AFTER SUPPER.

The king took Saint-Aignan by the arm, and passed into the adjoining
apartment. "What has detained you, comte?" said the king.

"I was bringing the answer, sire," replied the comte.

"She has taken a long time to reply to what I wrote her."

"Sire, your majesty has deigned to write in verse, and Mademoiselle de
la Valliere wished to repay your majesty in the same coin; that is to
say, in gold."

"Verses! Saint-Aignan," exclaimed the king in ecstasy. "Give them to me
at once." And Louis broke the seal of a little letter, inclosing the
verses which history has preserved entire for us, and which are more
meritorious in intention than in execution. Such as they were, however,
the king was enchanted with them, and exhibited his satisfaction by
unequivocal transports of delight; but the universal silence which
reigned in the rooms warned Louis, so sensitively particular with regard
to good breeding, that his delight might give rise to various
interpretations. He turned aside and put the note in his pocket, and
then advancing a few steps, which brought him again to the threshold of
the door close to his guests, he said, "M. de Valon, I have seen you
to-day with the greatest pleasure, and my pleasure will be equally
great to see you again." Porthos bowed as the Colossus of Rhodes would
have done, and retired from the room with his face toward the king. "M.
d'Artagnan," continued the king, "you will await my orders in the
gallery; I am obliged to you for having made me acquainted with M. de
Valon. Gentlemen," addressing himself to the other guests, "I return to
Paris to-morrow on account of the departure of the Spanish and Dutch
ambassadors. Until to-morrow, then."

The apartment was immediately cleared of the guests. The king took
Saint-Aignan by the arm, made him read La Valliere's verses over again,
and said. "What do you think of them?"

"Charming, sire."

"They charm me, in fact, and if they were known--"

"Oh! the professional poets would be jealous of them; but it is not at
all likely they will know anything about them."

"Did you give her mine?"

"Oh! sire, she positively devoured them."

"They were very weak, I am afraid."

"That is not what Mademoiselle de la Valliere said o