Mademoiselle was no longer young. The unsuccessful chase after an emperor had occupied a large portion of her life. She lived at Court, and was necessarily thrown much into the company of Lauzun, who affected an indifference towards her, a rough and ready manner that piqued her vanity. So she came gradually (no crowned head appearing in the matrimonial horizon, only relays of dukes and insignificant princes) to find Lauzun fascinating and original. The pleasures of Court palled upon her; she became pensive, even sentimental, and often retired to bowery Choisy to meditate on the chances and changes of life. Finally she came to the conclusion that marriage alone would restore her spirits. But marriage without an emperor? It was a great come-down, certainly. Yet there are no laws but the laws of passion in the kingdom of love. Mademoiselle reasoned that her sublimity was so exalted she could raise any man to her own level. In a word, she discovered that all earthly bliss depended on her marriage with Monsieur de Lauzun. Now Mademoiselle was, as we have seen, a very determined, even masculine, lady. She had pointed the guns of the Bastille against her cousin the King; she had all but led an army into the battlefield. Having come to a determination, she proceeded incontinently to carry it out. But she encountered uncontemplated difficulties. The crafty Lauzun, who read her like a book, became suddenly respectful and silent. As she approached, he receded. Mademoiselle was extremely embarrassed, and more violently in love than ever. This was precisely what Lauzun intended. We are in the Queen's apartments at the Louvre, within a stately retiring-room. The walls are covered with white brocade, on which is a gold pattern. They are panelled by gilt scroll-work. On the carved ceiling, which is supported by pilasters, is painted Apollo ushering in the day. The furniture is of green damask; colossal chandeliers of crystal and gilt bronze are reflected in mirrors placed at either end. Over the mantelpiece, which is carved and richly gilt, hangs a portrait of the King. Mademoiselle, attended by her lady of honour, enters about the time of the Queen's lever. She finds Lauzun in a corner talking with the Comtesse de Guiche. He takes no notice of her, though she gives a slight cough to attract his attention. She does not like it. Besides not saluting her, which he ought to have done, he seems quite to have thrown off his usual _insouciance_, and to find the conversation of the Comtesse de Guiche much too interesting. Mademoiselle retires into the recess of a window, and watches him. Lauzun continues talking with unaccustomed eagerness. He still takes no notice whatever of Mademoiselle; her royal highness has therefore to wait—yes, actually to wait; a thing she has never done in her life before to an inferior—until he has done talking.