"Your Majesty looks vexed this afternoon," said Madame de Montespan in a softly modulated voice. "What has happened?"
"I am exceedingly annoyed about that affair of Lauzun," replied Louis, seating himself in an arm-chair. "He has again applied to me about the Artillery this morning."
Madame de Montespan leant back indolently among the cushions, little dreaming who was crouching beneath so near her, and placed her feet upon an embroidered stool. A feather fan hung at her side, and as the weather was warm she took it up and moved it languidly to and fro, gazing absently at the King, who awaited her reply.
"Did you hear what I said, Athanaise? I am annoyed about Lauzun."
"I heard, Sire; but what can I say? You already know my opinion on that subject. Need I repeat it?"
This was said in a careless manner, as she sank back deeper among the cushions.
(Lauzun was all ears. "She has given her opinion then," he said to himself. "I think I can guess what it was.")
"I promised Lauzun the place, remember," continued the King. "He certainly merits it; but your friend Louvois will not hear of his appointment. He torments me every time I see him to give the Artillery to the Comte de Lude."
"I certainly advise you," returned the lady, glancing at herself in an opposite mirror and arranging the fringe of small curls that lay on her forehead, "to be guided by the advice of so experienced a minister as Louvois, rather than listen to such an empty-headed coxcomb as Lauzun."