“I do not give in my resignation, madame; I take another service,—that is all.”
“In the bourgeoisie or in the robe?” asked Madame de Saint-Remy, disdainfully.
“Please to learn, madame, that I am not a girl to serve either bourgeoises or robines, and that instead of the miserable court at which you vegetate, I am going to reside in a court almost royal.”
“Ha, ha! a royal court,” said Madame de Saint-Remy, forcing a laugh; “a royal court! What think you of that, my daughter?”
And she turned round towards Mademoiselle de la Valliere, whom she would by main force have dragged away from Montalais, and who, instead of obeying the impulse of Madame de Saint-Remy, looked first at her mother and then at Montalais with her beautiful conciliatory eyes.
“I did not say a royal court, madame,” replied Montalais; “because Madame Henrietta of England, who is about to become the wife of S. A. R. Monsieur, is not a queen. I said almost royal, and I spoke correctly, since she will be sister-in-law to the king.”
A thunderbolt falling upon the castle of Blois would not have astonished Madame de Saint-Remy more than the last sentence of Montalais.
“What do you say? of Son Altesse Royale Madame Henrietta?” stammered out the old lady.
“I say I am going to belong to her household, as maid of honor, that is what I say.”
“As maid of honor!” cried, at the same time, Madame de Saint-Remy with despair, and Mademoiselle de la Valliere with delight.