Chapter 43 - Page 2

those
Three Graces we shall learn the names of the rest, and by the names their
secrets."

"I, too," said the king, "only require to hear her voice to know it
again. Come, let us say no more about it, but show me where poor La
Valliere is."

"Well," thought Saint-Aignan, "the king's regard is beginning to display
itself, and for that girl too. It is extraordinary; I should never have
believed it." And with this thought passing through his mind, he showed
the king the room to which La Valliere had been carried; the king
entered, followed by Saint-Aignan. In a low chamber, near a large window
looking out upon the gardens, La Valliere, reclining in a large armchair,
was inhaling deep draughts of the perfumed evening breeze. From the
loosened body of her dress, the lace fell in tumbled folds, mingling with
the tresses of her beautiful fair hair, which lay scattered upon her
shoulders. Her languishing eyes were filled with tears; she seemed as
lifeless as those beautiful visions of our dreams, that pass before the
mental eye of the sleeper, half-opening their wings without moving them,
unclosing their lips without a sound escaping them. The pearl-like
pallor of La Valliere possessed a charm it would be impossible to
describe. Mental and bodily suffering had produced upon her features a
soft and noble expression of grief; from the perfect passiveness of her
arms and bust, she more resembled one whose soul had passed away, than a
living being; she seemed not to hear either of the whisperings which
arose from the court. She seemed to be communing within herself; and her
beautiful, delicate hands trembled from time to time as though at the
contact of some invisible touch. She was so completely absorbed in her
reverie, that the king entered without her perceiving him. At a distance
he gazed upon her lovely face, upon which the moon shed its pure silvery
light.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, with a terror he could not control, "she is
dead."

"No, sire," said Montalais, in a low voice; "on the contrary, she is
better. Are you not better, Louise?"

But Louise did not answer. "Louise," continued Montalais, "the king has
deigned to express his uneasiness on your account."

"The king!" exclaimed Louise, starting up abruptly, as if a stream of
fire had started through her frame to her heart; "the king uneasy about
me?"

"Yes," said Montalais.

"The king is here, then?" said La Valliere, not venturing to look round
her.

"That voice! that voice!" whispered Louis, eagerly, to Saint-Aignan.

"Yes, it is so," replied Saint-Aignan; "your majesty is right; it is she
who declared her love for the sun."

"Hush!" said the king. And then approaching La Valliere,