faint with excess of
emotion, pressed her trembling hands against her lover's lips. Louis
threw himself upon his knees, and as La Valliere did not move her head,
the king's forehead being within reach of her lips, she furtively
passed her lips across the perfumed locks which caressed her cheeks. The
king seized her in his arms, and, unable to resist the temptation, they
exchanged their first kiss--that burning kiss, which changes love into a
delirium. Suddenly, a noise upon the upper floor was heard, which had,
in fact, continued, though it had remained unnoticed, for some time; it
had at last aroused La Valliere's attention, though but slowly so. As
the noise, however, continued, as it forced itself upon the attention,
and recalled the poor girl from her dreams of happiness to the sad
reality of life, she arose in a state of utter bewilderment, though
beautiful in her disorder, saying: "Some one is waiting, for
above--Louis, Louis, do you not hear?"

"Well! and am I not waiting for you, also?" said the king, with infinite
tenderness of tone. "Let others henceforth wait for you."

But she gently shook her head, as she replied, "Concealed happiness ...
concealed power ... my pride should be silent as my heart."

The noise was again resumed.

"I hear Montalais's voice," she said, and she hurried up the staircase;
the king followed her, unable to let her leave his sight, and covering
her hand with his kisses. "Yes, yes," repeated La Valliere, who had
passed half-way through the opening, "Yes, it is Montalais who is
calling me; something important must have happened."

"Go, then, dearest love," said the king, "but return quickly."

"No, no, not to-day, sire! Adieu, adieu!" she said, as she stooped down
once more to embrace her lover, and then escaped. Montalais was, in
fact, waiting for her, very pale and agitated.

"Quick, quick! he is coming!" she said.

"Who--who is coming?"

"Raoul," murmured Montalais.

"It is I--I," said a joyous voice upon the last steps of the grand
staircase.

La Valliere uttered a terrible shriek, and threw herself back.

"I am here, dear Louise," said Raoul, running toward her. "I knew but
too well that you had not ceased to love; me."

La Valliere, with a gesture, partly of extreme terror, and partly as if
invoking a curse, attempted to speak, but could not articulate one word.
"No, no!" she said, as she fell into Montalais's arms, murmuring: "Do
not touch me, do not come near m