“Yes, sire, when you are not present; but when you are present,—when you speak to me,—when I look upon you, I have faith in nothing.”
“What can possibly be done to reassure you?”
“It is scarcely respectful, I know, to doubt the king, but—for me—you are not the king.”
“Thank Heaven!—I, at least, hope so most devoutly; you see how anxiously I am trying to find or invent a means of removing all difficulty. Stay; would the presence of a third person reassure you?”
“The presence of M. de Saint-Aignan would, certainly.”
“Really, Louise, you wound me by your suspicions.”
Louise did not answer, she merely looked steadfastly at him with that clear, piercing gaze which penetrates the very heart, and said softly to herself, “Alas! alas! it is not you of whom I am afraid,—it is not you upon whom my doubts would fall.”
“Well,” said the king, sighing, “I agree; and M. de Saint-Aignan, who enjoys the inestimable privilege of reassuring you, shall always be present at our interviews, I promise you.”
“You promise that, sire?”
“Upon my honor as a gentleman; and you, on your side—”