"And you took Mademoiselle de la Valliere something from me?"

"I, sire."

"Yes, you."

"Oh, no, sire."

"Mademoiselle de la Valliere says so distinctly."

"Oh, sire, Mademoiselle de la Valliere is mistaken."

The king frowned. "What jest is this?" he said; "explain yourself; why
does Mademoiselle de la Valliere call you my messenger? What did you
take to that lady? Speak, monsieur, and quickly."

"Sire, I merely took Mademoiselle de la Valliere a pocket-handkerchief,
that was all."

"A handkerchief--what handkerchief?"

"Sire, at the very moment when I had the misfortune to stumble against
your majesty yesterday, a misfortune which I shall deplore to the last
day of my life, especially after the dissatisfaction which you
exhibited, I remained, sire, motionless with despair, your majesty being
at too great a distance to hear my excuses, when I saw something white
lying on the ground."

"Ah!" said the king.

"I stooped down--it was a pocket-handkerchief. For a moment I had an
idea that when I stumbled against your majesty I must have been the
cause of the handkerchief falling from your pocket; but as I felt it all
over very respectfully, I perceived a cipher at one of the corners, and,
on looking at it closely, I found it was Mademoiselle de la Valliere's
cipher. I presumed that on her way to Madame's apartment in the earlier
part of the evening she had let her handkerchief fall, and I accordingly
hastened to restore it to her as she was leaving; and that is all I gave
to Mademoiselle de la Valliere, I entreat your majesty to believe."
Malicorne's manner was so simple, so full of contrition, and marked with
such extreme humility, that the king was greatly amused in listening to
him. He was as pleased with him for what he had done as if he had
rendered him the greatest service.

"This is the second fortunate meeting I have had with you, monsieur,"
he said; "you may count upon my friendly feeling."

The plain and sober truth was, that Malicorne had picked the king's
pocket of the handkerchief as dexterously as any of the pickpockets of
the good city of Paris could have done. Madame never knew of this little
incident, but Montalais gave La Valliere some idea of the manner in
which it had really happened, and La Valliere afterward told the king,
who laughed exceedingly at it, and pronounced Malicorne to be a
first-rate politician. Louis XIV. was right, and it is well known that
he was tolerably acquainted