The concealed ambition of Madame de Maintenon, her greed of dominion, the insolence of the inferior about to revenge the wrongs suffered in her obscurity, a sense, too, of her own power, now roused her to grasp that exalted position which, even while the Queen lived, had tempted her imagination. Now began a system of coquetry, so refined, as to claim the distinction of a fine art. The lady is forty-five, and looks young and fresh for her age; her hair is still black and glossy; her forehead smooth, her skin exquisitely white; her figure lissom and upright, if ample. There is a hidden fire in her stealthy eyes; a grandeur in her bearing, that charms while it imposes. Not all the vicissitudes of her chequered career can wash out the blood of the D'Aubignés which flows in her veins. The old King is desperately in love with her. It is the first time in his life he has encountered any opposition to his will. There is a novelty in the sensation wonderfully enthralling. The conquest of a lady who can thus balk him acquires an enormous importance in his eyes. He has run the fortune of war both at home and abroad; he has carried fortresses by storm, assailed the walls of great cities; he has conquered in the open plain; but here is a female citadel that is impregnable. His attack and her defence are conducted in daily interviews, lasting six, and even ten hours. If he can win her, he feels too that his salvation is insured. A life of repentance passed with such an angel, is a foretaste of celestial bliss. There is something sublime in the woman who can reconcile earth with heaven, and satisfy his longings in time and eternity. * * * * * Suddenly Madame de Maintenon announces her intention of leaving the Court for ever. The King who occupies his usual place in her saloon, sitting in an arm-chair placed between the door leading into the antechamber and the chimney-piece, listens with speechless dismay. Madame de Maintenon, who sits opposite to him, on the other side of the chimney-piece, in a recess hung with red damask, a little table before her, stitches calmly at the tapestry she holds in her hand. She affects not to observe him, and continues speaking in a full firm voice. "My mission is accomplished, Sire. I have been permitted to be the humble instrument of leading your Majesty to higher and holier thoughts. Your peace with Heaven is now made. I desire to retire, leaving my glorious work complete." "What, madame! Do I hear aright? You propose to leave me?—me, a solitary man, to whom your society is indispensable?" There is a deep longing in the King's eye as it rests upon her, a tremulous solicitude in his manner that she observes with secret joy. "Sire, I implore you to allow me to depart. I yearn for repose. I have remained at Court greatly against my will, solely for your advantage."