"I know it—I know it," answers Mademoiselle with triumph. "Ah, madame," continues D'Artagnan, shaking with suppressed laughter, "did I not fear to offend your delicacy, I could say more." "Ah! did Lauzun speak often of me?" she asks, and a fire comes into her sunken eyes. "Tell me." "He spoke of nothing else. Day and night your name was on his lips. My honour as a Gascon upon it." "Repeat this to me," cries Mademoiselle with ecstasy. "You little know, your highness, what tortures he suffers at being separated from you." "Alas! Monsieur d'Artagnan, he cannot suffer more than I!" and Mademoiselle's sigh is almost a groan. "Your highness has great influence over his Majesty. Is it possible that his imprisonment may be shortened?" "Can you doubt that my whole life, my influence, my wealth, all I have, will be devoted to this object?" exclaims Mademoiselle. ("Good," thinks D'Artagnan, "I have served my poor friend, and I hope myself, well. What an imbecile she is!") At this moment there is a general move. The Queen, who has been playing cards, rises, and Mademoiselle is forced to accompany her. Years pass; Lauzun still remains a prisoner at Pignerol. Mademoiselle is at the Luxembourg. She is sitting in her closet writing, when a page enters, and announces Madame de Maintenon. This lady is now the recognised governess of the legitimatised children of the King, the bosom friend of their mother, the Marquise de Montespan. Already she is scheming to supplant her in the King's affections. Madame de Maintenon is singularly handsome. Her face is pale; her complexion marble-like; her eyes are large and lustrous, though somewhat fixed and stern. Her glossy dark hair is raised high on her head, and a mantilla of lace is thrown over it. Her dress is of a sombre colour, but of the richest material. It rustles along the ground, as, with measured steps, she advances towards Mademoiselle. The latter is conscious of the stately bearing of the governess, who dares not, however, presume first to address her. Mademoiselle does not rise, but bends her head in acknowledgment of her salutation. She signs to Madame de Maintenon to be seated. "You are come alone, Madame," says the Princess. "I should have rejoiced to see your little charges—those dear children of whom I am so fond. Are they well?" "I am happy to inform your highness they are in perfect health. The Duc de Maine looked lovely this morning when he went with me to mass in the royal chapel. I have come to bring you a little letter he has written to your highness," and the Marquise presents a note addressed in a schoolboy's hand. "Ever since he has corresponded with you, during his stay at Holland and at Barège, he finds such pleasure in writing to you, I do not like to forbid it." "The dear child! I love him greatly," replies Mademoiselle, secretly wondering on what errand Madame de Maintenon had come.