“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 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 towards 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 blessing, 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 me.”
Montalais made a sign to Raoul, who stood almost petrified at the door, and did not even attempt to advance another step into the room. Then, looking towards the side of the room where the screen was, she exclaimed: “Imprudent girl, she has not even closed the trap-door.”