"I have the honour to inform your royal highness," says the Marquise after a pause, fixing her black eyes keenly upon her, "my visit to you is official. I come from the King." Mademoiselle falls back in her chair; a mist gathers before her eyes. "It must be about Lauzun she has come!" is her first thought. "But before I proceed to the subject of my mission," continues Madame de Maintenon, speaking in a clear metallic voice, all the while contemplating Mademoiselle as if she were an object of minute study—"but before I proceed, allow me to offer to your highness the compliments of Madame de Montespan, who is hunting at Clagny with the King. She bids me pray you to think of everything to please his Majesty, in order that he may be inclined to grant what you have so much at heart." Mademoiselle colours, and presses her hand to her heart, so violently does it throb. "Madame de Montespan," continues the Marquise, "has the highest admiration for the constancy and the fortitude you have shown on a certain subject, madame. May I add my tribute of sympathy also?" Mademoiselle smiles, and bows graciously. She is not ignorant of the growing power of the governess, and her high favour with the King. "We who live at Court," adds the Marquise loftily, "know too well how often great princes forget those whom they once loved. Your highness is an illustrious exception. May I, madame, be permitted to address you on this delicate subject? It is the purpose of my visit." "I entreat you to speak," cries Mademoiselle, greatly excited. "Tell me at once. I cannot bear suspense. Tell me, is his Majesty about to liberate Monsieur de Lauzun after so many years of imprisonment?" "Well," replies Madame de Maintenon, with an air of immense importance, "you shall judge, Princess. His Majesty thinks that it is possible, under certain conditions——" "Will he acknowledge Lauzun as my husband?" "He will never sanction the marriage, your highness," answers the Marquise decidedly, avoiding Mademoiselle's eager gaze. Here is a blow! Mademoiselle is absolutely stunned. Madame de Maintenon proceeds in the same monotonous tone:— "His Majesty has considered the possibility of liberating Monsieur de Lauzun, but there are difficulties, not perhaps insurmountable, but which at present render his gracious intention impossible." "Name them," cries Mademoiselle almost fiercely, suddenly sitting upright in her chair—"name them instantly." She has turned ashy pale; her hands, which she extends towards the other lady in her agitation, tremble. She is a pitiable object.