"Why, the fact is," and the wily governess hems once or twice, gives a slight cough, then clears her voice, "his Majesty does not choose that the principality of Dombes and the Château and estates of Eu, with which he is informed you have invested Monsieur de Lauzun, should go out of the royal family. This is the difficulty which at present weighs with the King. Madame de Montespan uses all her eloquence in your favour, madame." "I am obliged to her," answers Mademoiselle drily. "It was rumoured that she was the person who caused his Majesty to withdraw his consent to my marriage." This is dangerous ground, and Madame de Maintenon hastens to change the subject; she well knows how true are Mademoiselle's suspicions. "I have nothing to do with the King's reasons," is her cautious rejoinder. "Doubtless they are excellent." Then she glances towards the door as if about to go. "Even with your royal highness I must be excused canvassing what these reasons are. I came simply to deliver a message with which I was entrusted, and to carry back to his Majesty your answer." This speech, delivered with the most freezing coldness, almost frightens Mademoiselle into a fit. She is quite unable to argue with Madame de Maintenon, greatly her superior in intellect and in craft, specially now, when her excited feelings barely permit her to understand what is passing. She has sense, however, to make a sign to the Marquise, intimating her pleasure that she should not depart, which she is preparing to do. "His Majesty observed," continues that lady, looking steadfastly out of the window, "that it seems strange these royal appanages should pass away into an undistinguished family, while those who are near and most dear to his Majesty are at this time absolutely portionless—the Duc de Maine, for instance." "What!" exclaims Mademoiselle, "is it only by enriching the Duc de Maine that the Comte de Lauzun can be liberated?" As she puts this question her eyes flash, and her brow darkens. Then, seeing the stony gaze of the imperturbable Marquise fixed upon her, she composes herself, and awaits her reply with more calmness. "I must again entreat your highness to remember," answers Madame de Maintenon, rising from her chair, and dropping her eyes on the ground with affected humility, "that I am here only as an ambassadress. I beg your highness to excuse aught I may have said to offend you. But, as I perceived a way of accommodation open, I ventured to approach you as an ambassadress—simply as an ambassadress." These last words are spoken with a kind of unctious hypocrisy peculiar to herself. "Now, madame, if you permit, I will take my leave. My duties call me back to my beloved charges. I have been absent too long already."