A ballet is to take place at Versailles; the King is to dance. Mademoiselle forces herself to be present. She looks old, sad, and ill. She is preoccupied. Her thoughts are with Lauzun, in the mountain-bound fortress of Pignerol. There is but one person present in that vast company she cares about. With him she yearns to speak. It is D'Artagnan, Captain of the Musketeers, who accompanied Lauzun to Pignerol. D'Artagnan, a Gascon, is a countryman of Lauzun. He perfectly understands the part he has to play with Mademoiselle; a part, indeed he had carefully rehearsed with Lauzun while they were together. All the time the ballet lasts, D'Artagnan, in immediate attendance on the King, keeps his eyes fixed on Mademoiselle with a sorrowful expression. This agitates her extremely; she has the greatest difficulty in keeping her seat beside the Queen. Supper is served in the Queen's apartment, Louis and Maria Theresa sit under a canopy of cloth of gold. Hundreds of wax lights blaze in gilded stands, and the King's twenty-four violins play. The Dauphin, Mademoiselle, and all the princes and princesses of the blood present are seated at the table. The ushers and attendants admit the public to gaze at their Majesties. Every well-dressed person can enjoy this privilege, and the staircases and passages are filled with crowds ascending and descending. When the tedious ceremony is over, Mademoiselle places herself near the door, and signs to D'Artagnan to approach. "Ah, Captain d'Artagnan, I saw you looking at me all the time of the ballet," she says, with a sigh. D'Artagnan, a bluff, soldierly fellow, but crafty withal, and shrewd, a good friend and a bitter hater, salutes her respectfully. "D'Artagnan," continues Mademoiselle, moving closer beside him, and dropping her voice into a whisper, "you have something to tell me. I see it in your face. You accompanied Monsieur de Lauzun to Pignerol. Tell me everything you can remember." Her manner is quick and hurried, her breath comes fast. "Your highness, I left the Comte de Lauzun in good health." "Thank God!" ejaculated Mademoiselle, clasping her hands. She feels so faint she is obliged to ask the Queen's permission to open the window. "Was he indisposed on his long journey?" "No, Madame; he was perfectly well. I never left him. Even at night I slept in the same chamber. Such were my instructions." "Did he speak to you of me?" asked Mademoiselle in a faltering voice, blushing deeply. "Constantly, your highness. He spoke of you with the utmost devotion. Next to the grief Monsieur de Lauzun felt at parting from your royal highness, I am persuaded he suffered most from the displeasure of his Majesty." "Proceed, I entreat you," breaks in Mademoiselle eagerly. "Every word you say is inexpressibly precious to me. When did Lauzun first speak to you of me, and what did he say?"