“Ah, madame, it is to him that I owe my later misfortunes. I had grown tall, and, as he thought, pretty, and he wished to put a price upon his benefits which I refused to pay. Meanwhile, Madame de Boulainvilliers died, having first married me to a brave and loyal soldier, M. de la Motte, but, separated from him, I seemed more abandoned after her death than I had been after that of my father. This is my history, madame, which I have shortened as much as possible, in order not to weary you.”
“Where, then, is your husband?” asked the elder lady.
“He is in garrison at Bar-sur-Aube; he serves in the gendarmerie, and is waiting, like myself, in hopes of better times.”
“But you have laid your case before the court?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“The name of Valois must have awakened some sympathy.”
“I know not, madame, what sentiments it may have awakened, for I have received no answer to any of my petitions.”
“You have seen neither the ministers, the king, nor the queen?”
“No one. Everywhere I have failed.”
“You cannot now beg, however.”