ose beside him,
addressing him in the most respectful manner. It was M. Malicorne, in a
complete costume of an equerry, holding over his left arm the bridles of
a couple of horses.

"Your majesty asked for a horse, I believe," he said.

"A horse? Have you one of my horses here?" inquired the king, who
endeavored to remember the person who addressed him, and whose face was
not as yet very familiar to him.

"Sire," replied Malicorne, "at all events I have a horse which is at
your majesty's service."

And Malicorne pointed at Monsieur's bay horse, which Madame had
observed. It was a beautiful creature and most royally caparisoned.

"This is not one of my horses, monsieur," said the king.

"Sire, it is a horse out of his royal highness's stable; but his royal
highness does not ride when the weather is as hot as it is now."

The king did not reply, but hastily approached the horse, which stood
pawing the ground with his foot. Malicorne hastened to hold the stirrup
for him but the king was already in the saddle. Restored to good humor
by this lucky accident, the king hastened toward the queen's carriage,
where he was anxiously expected: and notwithstanding Maria-Theresa's
thoughtful and preoccupied air, he said: "I have been fortunate enough
to find this horse, and I intend to avail myself of it. I felt stifled
in the carriage. Adieu, ladies."

Then, bending most gracefully over the arched neck of his beautiful
steed, he disappeared in a second. Anne of Austria leaned forward, in
order to look after him as he rode away: he did not go very far, for
when he reached the sixth carriage, he reined in his horse suddenly and
took off his hat. He saluted La Valliere, who uttered a cry of surprise
as she saw him, blushing at the same time with pleasure. Montalais, who
occupied the other seat in the carriage, made the king a most respectful
bow. And, then, with all the tact of a woman, she pretended to be
exceedingly interested in the landscape, and withdrew herself into the
left-hand corner. The conversation between the king and La Valliere
began, as all lovers' conversations generally do, namely, by eloquent
looks and by a few words utterly void of common sense. The king
explained how warm he had felt in his carriage, so much so indeed that
he could almost regard the horse he then rode as a blessing thrown in
his way. "And," he added, "my benefactor is an exceedingly intelligent
man, for he seemed to guess my thoughts intuit