Meanwhile Louis rose hastily, and looked into the corners and behind all the cabinets, as if determined to make a thorough investigation of the whole room. This would have rendered Lauzun's position desperate. He positively shook with terror. Madame de Montespan still sobbed, her handkerchief pressed to her eyes. 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.