"Oh! you have sold your string of pearls without consulting me?" interrupts Lauzun with an offended air. "What waste! What folly!" He stops in his pacing up and down the room, and fixes his eyes upon her in another silent scrutiny. "I see you still wear coloured ribbons in your hair. Surely, at your age, this is ridiculous." "The Queen does the same." "Are you not older than the Queen?" "I am old, Monsieur de Lauzun," replies Mademoiselle, stung to the quick, yet speaking with dignity; "but persons of my rank dress according to established etiquette. Have you nothing more to say to me, Lauzun?" she says, in a low voice. She can bear no more; her pride and her fortitude are rapidly forsaking her. She feels she is breaking down, spite of herself. She longs inexpressibly to fold Lauzun in her arms, to tell him all her love; to beseech him to return it, even ever so little a return, for that vast treasure she offers. But she is withheld by absolute shame. "I have made great sacrifices to restore you to liberty, Lauzun," she continues, timidly, her voice almost failing her, and not daring to look up at him for fear of encountering his chilling gaze. "I have made many sacrifices. I understood that you approved of them." Lauzun does not answer. Mademoiselle speaks humbly now, for what is money, contempt, insult to her, so that he would love her, only a little? "I have also made arrangements with Colbert to pay your debts." "I am obliged to you," replies Lauzun, with a sneer. "Let me tell you, however," and he advances close to where she is sitting and fixes his eyes fiercely upon her—"Let me tell you I would rather command the Royal Dragoons and be back again at Court in attendance on the King, than have all the money you have, or ever can give me." Mademoiselle turns very faint, and clasps her hands. Her eyes close, as if she is going to swoon. Lauzun contemplates her unmoved. He does not offer her the smallest assistance. "Good God!" she exclaims after a while, "how much I am to be pitied! I have despoiled myself and you are ungrateful." "Louise," says Lauzun, feeling he has gone too far, stooping and trying to kiss her hand, "spare me hysterics. Let us talk business." "We have talked nothing else," cries Mademoiselle, her indignation rising at his heartless indifference. "Not a word of affection has come from your lips," her voice grows thick and tears rush into her eyes. Spite of herself, she is rapidly giving way. It was the old fight between heart and no heart, man who feels nothing, woman who feels everything. "I want my place at Court," says Lauzun, abruptly. "Will you use your influence to reinstate me? Else, I would rather have remained in prison at Pignerol." He speaks in a tone of the bitterest reproach. "I will do what I can," Mademoiselle answers in a husky voice.