"My cousin," answered the King gravely, "I cannot permit you to be sacrificed. You are made a tool of. I cannot permit it. Now," he continued, rising,—and with difficulty suppressing a yawn—"you can have nothing more to say to me. I shall not alter my determination."
Mademoiselle wrung her hands, the King drew her to him and kissed her on the forehead. As he did so, a tear dropped upon her cheek.
"Oh, Sire!" cried Mademoiselle, "you pity me, and you have the heart to refuse me! You are the master of my fate. Have mercy on me! Do not give heed to others. Ah, Sire, you are destroying me!"
"Come to me to-morrow, my cousin," said Louis soothingly, much affected, but unshaken by her prayers. "Come and tell me you have forgiven me. Now, good night," and again he tenderly embraced her. Then he summoned his attendants to conduct her to her coach.
"Lauzun had played deep for a great prize, and he had lost the game. He broke out into savage abuse and called the King opprobrious names. Absolutely maddened by rage, he rushed to the palace. He was refused admittance. Yet he swore and cursed at the attendants until he forced them to let him pass. Then he strode up-stairs to the apartments of Madame de Montespan. Here he found the King seated by her side."
Louis rose, placed himself in front of the Marquise, and faced him with a look of the gravest displeasure.
"Sire," cried Lauzun, his face swollen with passion, "I am come to ask you what I have done that you should dishonour me?"
"Come, come, Lauzun," replied Louis, still standing before Madame de Montespan; "calm yourself."
Lauzun was too deep in the royal secrets to make an open breach with him either advisable or safe.