ght possibly carry away every soft and tender feeling in his
heart. "Give what commands you please, sire," she said; "and since you
prefer my humiliation to your own--although mine is public, and yours
has been witnessed but by myself alone--speak, I will obey your
majesty."

"No no, Henriette!" exclaimed Louis, transported with gratitude, "you
will have yielded to a brother's wishes."

"I no longer have any brother, since I obey."

"Will you accept my kingdom in grateful acknowledgment?"

"How passionately you love, sire, when you do love!"

He did not answer. He had seized upon Madame's hand and covered it with
kisses. "And so you will receive this poor girl back again, and will
forgive her; you will find how gentle and pure-hearted she is."

"I will maintain her in my household."

"No, you will give her your friendship, my sister."

"I have never liked her."

"Well, for my sake you will treat her kindly, will you not, Henriette?"

"I will treat her as your mistress."

The king rose suddenly to his feet. By this word, which had so
unfortunately escaped her lips, Madame had destroyed the whole merits of
her sacrifice. The king felt freed from all obligation. Exasperated
beyond measure, and bitterly offended, he replied:

"I thank you, madame; I shall never forget the service you have rendered
me." And, saluting her with an affectation of ceremony, he took his
leave of her. As he passed before a glass, he saw that his eyes were
red, and angrily stamped his foot on the ground. But it was too late,
for Malicorne and D'Artagnan, who were standing at the door, had seen
his eyes.

"The king has been crying," thought Malicorne. D'Artagnan approached the
king with a respectful air, and said in a low tone of voice:

"Sire, it would be better to return to your own apartments by the small
staircase."

"Why?"

"Because the dust of the road has left its traces on your face," said
D'Artagnan. "By Heaven!" he thought, "when the king has been giving way
like a child, let those look to it who may make her weep for whom the
king has shed tears."

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIERE'S POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF.

Madame was not bad-hearted, she was only hasty and impetuous. The king
was not imprudent, he was only in love. Hardly had they both entered
into this sort of compact, which terminated in La Valliere's recall,
when they both sought to make as much as they could by their bargain.
The king wished