"Nay," replied the Monarch, interrupting her, and raising her with a little gentle force, "nay, nothing is impossible, but for me to see you kneeling there."
"Oh yes, indeed, indeed, it is, your Majesty!" she said; "I have long known it, I have long been sure of it. You once condescended to dream of it yourself; you mentioned it to me, and I for a single instant was deceived by hope; but as soon as I came to examine it, I became convinced, fully convinced, that such a thing was utterly and entirely impossible, that your Majesty should descend from your high station, and that you should oppose and over-rule the advice and opinion of courtiers and ministers, who, though perhaps a little touched with jealousy, can easily find sound and rational reasons enough to oppose your will in this instance. Oh, no, no, Sire, I know it is impossible; for Heaven's sake do not agitate me by a dream of happiness that can never be realised!"
"So little is it impossible, dear friend," replied the King, "that it is scarcely half an hour ago since I spoke with Louvois upon the subject."
"And what did he say?" exclaimed Madame de Maintenon, with an eagerness that she could not master. "He opposed it, of course--and doubtless wisely. But oh, Sire, you must grant me a favour: the last of many, but still a very great one. You must let me retire from your court, from this place of cruel and terrible temptation, where they look upon me, from the favour which your Majesty has been pleased to show me, in a light which I dare not name. No, Sire, no, I will never have it said, that I lived on at your court knowing that I bore the name of your concubine. However false, the imputation is too terrible to be undergone--I, who have ever raised my voice against such acts, I, who have risked offending your Majesty by remonstrances and exhortations. No, Sire, no! I cannot, indeed I cannot, undergo it any longer. It is terrible to me, it is injurious to your Majesty, who has so nobly triumphed over yourself in another instance. It matters not what Monsieur de Louvois has said, though I trust he said nothing on earth to lead you to believe that I am capable of yielding to unlawful love."
"Oh no," replied the King, "his opposition was but to the marriage, and that as usual was rude, gross, and insulting to his King. I wonder that I have patience with him. But it will some day soon give way."
"I hope and trust, Sire," cried Madame de Maintenon, clasping her hands earnestly, "I hope and trust that your Majesty has not suffered insult on my account. Then, indeed, it were high time that I should go."
"No," replied Louis, "not absolute insult. Louvois means but to act well. He said every thing in opposition, I acknowledge, coarsely and rudely, and in the end he cast himself upon his knees before me, unsheathed his sword, and, offering the hilt, besought me to take his life, rather than to do what I contemplated."
"He did!" cried Madame de Maintenon, with a bright red spot in either cheek. "He did! The famous minister of Louis XIV. has been studying at the theatre lately I know! But still, Sire, though doubtless he was right in some part of his view, Françoise d'Aubigné is not quite so lowly as to be an object of scorn to the son of Michael le Tellier, whose ancestors I believe sold drugs at Rheims, while my grandfather supported the throne of yours with his sword, his blood, and his wisdom. He might have spared his scorn, methinks, and saved his wit for argument. But I must not speak so freely in my own cause, for that it is my own, I acknowledge," and she wiped away some tears from her fine eyes. "It is my own, for when I beseech your Majesty to let me leave you, I tear my own heart, I trample upon all my own feelings. But oh, believe me, Sire," she continued ardently, "believe me when I say, that I would rather that heart were broken, as it soon will be, than that your Majesty should do any thing derogatory to your crown and dignity, or I must add, than I would do myself any thing in violation of the precepts of virtue and religion."
She wept a good deal; but she wept gracefully, and hers was one of those faces which looked none the worse for tears. The King gently drew her to her seat, for she had still been standing; saying, "Nay, nay, be comforted. You have yet the King. You think not really then," he said, "really and sincerely you think not, that there is any true degradation in a monarch wedding a subject? I ask you yourself, I ask you to speak candidly!"
"Nay, Sire," cried Madame de Maintenon, "how can you ask me, deeply interested as I am--how can you ask any woman? For we all feel alike in such things, and differently from you men. There is not one woman, proud or humble in your Majesty's court, that would not give you the same answer, if she spoke sincerely."