"Yet, dear Duchess, this struggle will kill you. What a balm to your sensitive feelings the solitude of a convent would be! Among those holy sisters, in a life of prayer, you would find new life."
"I know it—I know!" cried La Vallière, passionately; "but how to leave him—how to go?"
"Perhaps, Duchess, I may assist you," and Madame de Montespan bent, with well simulated interest, over the slight form beside her, and gazed inquiringly into the trusting eyes that were turned so imploringly upon her. "I might be able to place this dilemma before his Majesty as your friend, dear Duchess. A third party is often able to assist in a matter so delicate. If his Majesty would indeed suffer as poignantly as you imagine, your departure is out of the question. I could at least learn this from himself in your interest."
Louise sprang to her feet, she threw her soft arms round Madame de Montespan, and nestled her pale face on her bosom.
"At last I have found a real friend," she cried; "at last I have found one who understands me. But," and she looked up quickly into the other's face, with a confidence that was most touching, "you will say nothing to his Majesty. Not a word. Be here when he next comes. (I will ask his permission.) You will then be able to judge for yourself—to counsel me. I would rather suffer torture, I would rather die, than give him a moment's pain, remember that," and La Vallière put out her little hand and pressed that of Madame de Montespan, whose face was wreathed with smiles.
"Do you think his Majesty will consent to my presence here?" asked Madame de Montespan, carefully concealing her feelings of exultation, for she foresaw what the reply must be.
"I will make him," cried La Vallière. "I will teach you exactly how to please him—what to say—never to contradict him—to watch the turn of his eye, as I do. The ice once broken, your tact, your winning manners, will make all easy."
Madame de Montespan acquiesced. She strove to appear careless, but she knew that her fate was on the balance. If she met the King there, she was resolved her rival should not long trouble her.
"Then you will tell me what I ought to do," continued La Vallière. "I shall be for ever grateful to you—you will reconcile me to myself!"