A laugh follows this hearty outburst of enthusiasm. It is scarcely audible, but Mademoiselle instantly suppresses it with a frown. Lauzun is a sacred object in her eyes, and she permits no jests, however flattering, to mix with his name. Turning towards the Maréchal de Charost, she replies with haughty courtesy— "I thank you, Maréchal, and, in your person I thank the brave army of his Majesty, my cousin." Before this august company separates it is announced that the marriage contract is to be at once submitted to the King, Queen, the Dauphin, the Duc d'Orléans, and the princes of the blood-royal. The marriage is to take place next day at Charenton, at the villa of the Marquise de Créqui. The Archbishop of Rheims is to officiate. CHAPTER XXVII. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. Meanwhile, Madame de Montespan expatiated to all the Court on the impossibility of an alliance between Mademoiselle and the Comte de Lauzun. That Lauzun should be received as a prince of the blood would, according to her, for ever lessen that dignity so dear to the heart of the monarch. [Illustration: LOUVOIS.] Louvois, her creature—some said her lover—spoke more strongly. Not only France, he said, would be eternally disgraced, but his Majesty would be personally censured in every Court in Europe, for permitting one of his nearest relatives thus to demean herself. Monsieur, father of Mademoiselle, declared that such an alliance would be an affront to the memory of his daughter's illustrious grandfather, Henry the Great. Nobles and ministers, incited by Louvois, threw themselves at the King's feet. They implored him not to cloud his glorious reign by consenting to such a _mésalliance_. The poor weak Queen, worked upon by the artifices of the malicious De Montespan, who, as superintendent of her household, was constantly about her person, complained loudly of the insult about to be put upon her circle—she a royal daughter of Spain! All the princesses of the blood joined with her. The cabal was adroitly managed. It attacked the King's weak side. No man was ever such a slave to public opinion, or so scrupulously regardful of appearances, as Louis XIV. To him the _vox populi_ was indeed "the voice of God." About eight o'clock that evening, Mademoiselle was summoned to the Louvre from the Luxembourg. "Was the King still at cards?" she asked the messenger. "No; his Majesty was in the apartments of Madame de Montespan, but he desired to see her highness the instant she arrived." As Mademoiselle drove into the quadrangle, a gentleman in waiting approached her coach, and begged her to enter by another door, leading directly into the private apartments. This mystery seemed to her excited imagination full of evil import. When she reached the King's cabinet, some one ran out by another door. It was Madame de Montespan. The King was sitting over the fire. His head rested on his hand. Mademoiselle stood before him trembling all over.