The King took a few turns up and down the saloon, brandished his cane, and moved some chairs. The noise he made roused the parrot in the next room into a fury. It screeched so loud that for a time nothing else could be heard.
Finding no one, Louis, rather embarrassed, placed himself at a window. He looked back at the beautiful woman still weeping on the settee. "Come, no more tears, Athanaise," he said tenderly, approaching her with a penitent look and taking the handkerchief from her face. "Let this kiss seal my pardon. But the voice was really so distinct. I thought for a moment——" Madame de Montespan fixed her eyes reproachfully on him. "Well, no matter. Then you advise me to refuse Lauzun the post he desires?"
"Certainly," returned the lady with decision. She was now quite calm and alive to business.
A knock was heard at the door. Several gentlemen in waiting, attended by pages, entered and announced that supper was served and the Queen already at table.
"I must leave you, my angel," said the King, in a low voice, rising. "It is time you should prepare for the performance of Molière's play in the theatre arranged for to-night. Adieu, my adored Marquise. Forgive my want of courtesy," he whispered in her ear. "But the parrot's voice was so natural.—I will wipe off my fault in any manner you please."
"I ask for nothing, Sire," replied she, in the same low tone, "but that you should refuse this place to Lauzun. Do this, and you are forgiven," and her eyes beamed on the King, who, after placing his hat, covered with a plume of snowy ostrich feathers, on his head, raised it, bowed to her, and kissed her hand. Then replacing his hat before he left the room with his attendants, he passed the outer entrance, where the gardes du corps, who never left him, presented arms.
Madame de Montespan passed into her closet.
When the saloon was empty, Lauzun, crimson in the face, foaming with rage and much rumpled in appearance, emerged from his hiding-place. He hastily replaced his wig,—so hastily, indeed, that he put it on awry,—and dragged on his coat with such violence that he tore off the priceless Malines lace ruffles. Oath after oath fell from his lips as he dressed himself. "You shall pay for this, devil of a Marquise! Morbleu, I will make you wince!" he muttered—for he dared not speak louder until he had left the room. This he did, closing the doors with the utmost precaution behind him.
The suite of rooms assigned to Madame de Montespan led by a corridor to the landing of the grand marble staircase of the south wing. On the other side and across this landing were the state apartments, situated in the centre of the palace. To reach them Madame de Montespan must pass this corridor. Lauzun placed himself behind the outer door, and awaited her. After a long time she appeared. Her hair, just touched with powder, was sown with diamonds. A necklace of large single brilliants, linked together with pearls, lay upon her neck. Her dress was of pink satin, woven with gold; the low body fitting tightly, displayed to the utmost advantage her exquisite form. Her train of violet velvet, bordered by pearls and passementerie of gold, swept the ground. She was a miracle of loveliness. Lauzun made her a profound obeisance. Taking the tips of her fingers within his hand, he kissed them, and begged permission to be allowed the honour of escorting her across the landing to the state apartments. Madame de Montespan smiled; his delicate attention flattered her vanity. Her anger was appeased. The gay sabreur was returning to his allegiance. Lauzun was now, too, a personage, as the betrothed of Mademoiselle, and cousin-to-be of the King. She almost repented she had urged the King so strongly to refuse him the post of Grand Master of the Artillery.
Lauzun, speaking in the softest and most insinuating voice, now asked her if she had condescended, during her recent interview with the King, to remember his humble suit to his Majesty, for which he had recommended himself to her all-powerful influence?