“But, speak,” insists the King, “give me a plain
answer. How does the Queen know a state secret, that I confided to you alone, that I even whispered in your ear?”
“Sire, I—I do not know,” falters the maid of honour.
“Swear to me, mademoiselle, that you have not betrayed me to the Queen; swear, and I will believe you. Pardieu! I will believe you even if it is not true!” Louis’s eyes shine with hidden fire; his slight frame quivers.