to my room, and
will not find me there."

"Well!"

"What will become of me in that case?"

"You are very apprehensive, Louise."

"But, at all events, suppose Madame were to send for me."

"Oh!" replied the king, "will the day never come when you yourself will
tell me to brave everything, so that I may not have to leave you again."

"On that day, then, sire, I shall be quite out of my mind, and you ought
not to believe me."

"To-morrow, Louise."

La Valliere sighed, but, without the courage to oppose her royal lover's
wish, she repeated, "To-morrow, then, since you desire it, sire;" and
with these words she ran up the stairs lightly, and disappeared from her
lover's gaze.

"Well, sire?" inquired Saint-Aignan, when she had left.

"Well, Saint-Aignan; yesterday I thought myself the happiest of men."

"And does your majesty, then, regard yourself to-day," said the comte,
smiling, "as the unhappiest of men?"

"No; but my love for her is an unquenchable thirst; in vain do I drink,
in vain do I swallow the drops of water which your industry procures for
me; the more I drink the more unquenchable is my thirst."

"Sire, that is in some degree your own fault, and your majesty alone has
made the position such as it is."

"You are right."

"In that case, therefore, the means to be happiness is to fancy yourself
satisfied, and to wait."

"Wait! you know that word, then?"

"There, there, sire--do not despair; I have already been at work on your
behalf--I have still other resources in store." The king shook his head
in a despairing manner.

"What, sire! have you not been satisfied hitherto?"

"Oh! yes, indeed yes, my dear Saint-Aignan; but find, for Heaven's sake,
find some further means yet."

"Sire, I undertake to do my best, and that is all I can do."

The king wished to see the portrait again, as he was unable to see the
original. He pointed out several alterations to the painter, and left
the room, and then Saint-Aignan dismissed the artist. The easel, paints,
and painter himself had scarcely gone, when Malicorne showed his head at
the doorway. He was received by Saint-Aignan with open arms, but still
with a little sadness, for the cloud which had passed across the royal
sun, veiled, in its turn, the faithful satellite, and Malicorne at a
glance perceived the melancholy look which was visible upon
Saint-Aignan's face.

"Oh, Monsieur le Comte," he said, "how sad you seem!"

"And good reason, too, my