aria. It was a condescension, but still I did it.
My first wife was the Princess of England. How can we admit into a
house which has formed such alliances as these a woman who is the widow
of a hunchback singer, a mere lampooner, a man whose name is a byword
through Europe?"

The king had stared in amazement at his brother, but his anger now
overcame his astonishment.

"Upon my word!" he cried; "upon my word! I have said just now that you
have been an excellent brother, but I fear that I spoke a little
prematurely. And so you take upon yourself to object to the lady whom I
select as my wife!"

"I do, sire."

"And by what right?"

"By the right of the family honour, sire, which is as much mine as
yours."

"Man," cried the king furiously, "have you not yet learned that within
this kingdom I am the fountain of honour, and that whomsoever I may
honour becomes by that very fact honourable? Were I to take a
cinder-wench out of the Rue Poissonniere, I could at my will raise her
up until the highest in France would be proud to bow down before her.
Do you not know this?"

"No, I do not," cried his brother, with all the obstinacy of a weak man
who has at last been driven to bay. "I look upon it as a slight upon me
and a slight upon my wife."

"Your wife! I have every respect for Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria,
but how is she superior to one whose grandfather was the dear friend and
comrade in arms of Henry the Great? Enough! I will not condescend to
argue such a matter with you! Begone, and do not return to my presence
until you have learned not to interfere in my affairs."

"For all that, my wife shall not know her!" snarled monsieur; and then,
as his brother took a fiery step or two towards him, he turned and
scuttled out of the room as fast as his awkward gait and high heels
would allow him.

But the king was to have no quiet that day. If Madame de Maintenon's
friends had rallied to her yesterday, her enemies were active to-day.
Monsieur had hardly disappeared before there rushed into the room a
youth who bore upon his rich attire every sign of having just arrived
from a dusty journey. He was pale-faced and auburn-haired, with
features which would have been strikingly like the king's if it were not
that his nose had been disfigured in his youth. The king's face had
lighted up at the sight of him, but it darkened again as he hurried
forward and threw himself down at his feet.

"Oh, sire," he cried,