At last the Queen rose. As she passed by she whispered to Mademoiselle—"You must have some very important business with the King to remain so late. I can sit up no longer."
"Madame," she replied, rising, "it is a matter of life and death to me. If I succeed it will be announced at the council to-morrow morning."
"Well, my cousin," said the poor Queen, who never understood anything that was going on, and was not intended to do so, "I wish you all success. Good night."
By-and-by Louis left off playing. He rose, and walked up to Mademoiselle. "What, cousin, you are still here? You did not accompany her Majesty? Do you know the time? It is two o'clock."
"Sire, I wish to speak a few words to you."
The King yawned, gave a glance towards the door, then leant wearily against the wall. "Excuse me for to-night, cousin," said he; "I am tired."
"I shall not be long," urged Mademoiselle; "but do be seated, or I feel I cannot address you properly."
"No, I am very well thus. Speak, my cousin. I am all attention."
This was an awful moment. Mademoiselle's heart thumped audibly against her side. Her throat became so parched no words would come.
"Sire," she began, and her voice failed her. The King watched her; he had seen a good deal of women by this time, and understood their ways. He knew she was about to speak to him of Lauzun, and smiled.