"Oh!" exclaims the King in a loud voice, and quick steps are heard pacing up and down the room, "you would have condescended to accept a princess-royal for your daughter-in-law." "Certainly, Sire; but because I committed a _mésalliance_ myself in marrying your brother, Philippe de Orléans——" "_Pardieu!_ Madame," breaks in the King. "Do you talk of a _mésalliance_ with a grandson of Henry the Great?" "Certainly I do, your Majesty. What was Henry the Great, but an obscure Prince of Béarn, a beggarly little State among the valleys of the Pyrenees? Does your Majesty think that the hundred quarterings of my escutcheon will gain lustre by the arms of Bourbon?" Louis is heard to stamp on the floor. "Madame," he cries, so loud that his words echo into every corner of the Œil de Bœuf, "Madame, you forget yourself. How dare you come here to insult me?" "Sire, I come here to tell you the truth. My son, the Duc de Chartres, has forgotten himself by listening for one instant to your proposal. With my own hand I have chastised him as he deserves. I do not forget myself, whatever others may do. Philippe is too good for any princess in Europe. The blood in his veins is that of my ancestors—the Princes Palatine of the Rhine. We laugh at your modern houses—we laugh! Philippe is the best man in your Court. He knows everything—painting, music, poetry, science. None of you can understand him. You are too ignorant." "Madame," the King is heard to say, "have a care—you are going too far!" "No, my brother, I have not gone far enough," rejoins Madame. "You have forgotten the siege of Mons, where he fought under your own eyes—also Steinkerque and Nerwinde. It is your fault that Philippe does not command your armies. He is equal to it. Who would not have such a husband? Sire, my son, the Duc de Chartres, shall never wed with your bastard!" Again Louis is heard to stamp upon the floor. Then, in a voice hoarse with rage, he replies, "Madame, I shall hold my brother responsible for your insolence." "Why have you provoked it, then?" is the reply in a calmer tone. Charlotte de Bavière has evidently relieved her own violence by exciting that of the King. "I have a right to resist such a disgraceful proposal. Withdraw your marriage, and I am again your good sister and friend as heretofore." "We shall see, Madame, we shall see!" shouts the King, whose usual courtesy towards women is not proof against such an attack. "Yes, Sire, we shall see. No person on earth shall make me sanction a blot on my name. My opposition shall not be only in words. The Duc de Chartres is my only son. I will stop the marriage in your presence. I will stop it at the altar of the chapel-royal." "Madame, your pride has turned your head. But your husband, my brother, shall obey me."