"My daughter," interposes the Queen-mother, "do not agitate yourself. I understand your annoyance at having introduced such a person as Mademoiselle de la Vallière at Court. Let _me_ address her. She is unworthy of your notice. You understand, of course, mademoiselle, that you are dismissed," she says, turning towards her and speaking imperiously. "But, your Majesty—" and La Vallière's streaming eyes are again lifted upwards for an instant—"what, oh, what have I done?" "Ask yourself, mademoiselle. Unless there are to be two queens of France, you must go. You cannot wish me, the mother of his Majesty, to enter into details on a subject so painful to my feelings." "No, I should think not," breaks in Madame Henriette, "unless you have no sense of decency. A little unworthy chit like you to dare to trouble royal princesses; you are as impertinent as you are disreputable." [Illustration: MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE. FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING.] At these cruel words La Vallière staggers backwards, and almost falls. Then she again turns her swollen eyes towards the royal ladies with absolute terror. Ah, heaven! she thinks, if the King did but know her agony, her sufferings! Ah, if he were but here to speak for her! But not a word passes her lips. Madame Henriette's eyes fix themselves on her with a look of triumph. She becomes absolutely radiant at the sight of the humiliation of her whom she calls "her rival." "You know our pleasure, mademoiselle," says Anne of Austria, rising from her arm-chair. "You will return from whence you came—Touraine, I believe. You will be conducted by Madame de Choisy; but, indeed, you need no escort; you have nothing to fear _now_," and the Queen-mother casts a look of withering contempt on the wretched girl, more offensive even than her bitter words. Louise shrinks backwards. She would fain escape. "Do not forget, mademoiselle, before you go, to thank Madame Henriette de France for all her goodness to you," says the Queen, arresting her with a motion—"goodness, indeed, you have so ill requited." "No, no!" cries Madame; "I want no thanks. I only want to be rid of her. Let her go, my mother; I ask no more." The two Princesses rise together. They both deliberately turn their backs upon La Vallière, and leave the room. For some moments she stands as if turned into stone. Then she gives a wild scream, raises her small hands, clutches the delicate curls that hang about her face, and rushes from "the Grey Chamber." "Dishonoured—banished! Ah, God! what will become of me?" she cries distractedly when she has locked herself in her own room. "Ah! what will my mother say when she knows all? Holy Virgin, I am lost!"