She was alone, seated before a table, wrapped in a dressing-gown, her head resting on her hand, and, seemingly, deeply preoccupied. On seeing the chevalier enter, she rose with a sudden and apparently involuntary movement. “You come on behalf of the King?” The chevalier might have answered, but he could think of nothing better than to bow profoundly while presenting to the marquise the letter which he brought her. She took it, or rather seized upon it, with extreme eagerness. Her hands trembled on the envelope as she broke the seal. This letter, written by the King’s hand, was rather long. She devoured it at first, so to speak, with a glance, then she read it greedily, with profound attention, with wrinkled brow and tightened lips. She was not beautiful thus, and no longer resembled the magic apparition of the _petit foyer_. When she reached the end, she seemed to reflect. Little by little her face, which had turned pale, assumed a faint color (at this hour she did not wear rouge), and not only did she regain that graceful air which habitually belonged to her, but a gleam of real beauty illumined her delicate features; one might have taken her cheeks for two rose-leaves. She heaved a little sigh, allowed the letter to fall upon the table, and, turning toward the chevalier, said, with the most charming smile: “I kept you waiting, monsieur, but I was not yet dressed, and, indeed, am hardly so even now. That is why I was forced to get you to come through the private rooms, for I am almost as much besieged here as though I were at home. I would like to answer the King’s note. Would it be too much trouble to you to do an errand for me?” This time he _must_ speak; the chevalier had had time to regain a little courage: “Alas! madame,” said he, sadly, “you confer a great favor on me, but, unfortunately, I can not profit by it.” “Why not?” “I have not the honor to belong to his Majesty.” “How, then, did you come here?” “By chance; I met on my way a page who had been thrown and who begged me--” “How ‘thrown’?” repeated the marquise, bursting out laughing. She seemed so happy at this moment that gaiety came to her without an effort. “Yes, madame, he fell from his horse at the gate. I luckily found myself there to help him to rise, and, as his dress was very much disordered, he begged me to take charge of his message.” “And by what chance did you find yourself there?” “Madame, it was because I had a petition to present to his Majesty.” “His Majesty lives at Versailles.” “Yes, but you live here.” “Oh! So it is you who wished to entrust me with a message.” “Madame, I beg you to believe--” “Do not trouble yourself, you are not the first. But why do you address yourself to me? I am but a woman--like any other.” As she uttered these words with a somewhat ironical air, the marquise threw a triumphant look upon the letter she had just read. “Madame,” continued the chevalier, “I have always heard that men exercise power, and that women--”