Behind Madame de Saint-Remy stood Mademoiselle de la Vallière. She heard the explosion of maternal anger, and as she divined the cause of it, she entered the chamber trembling, and perceived the unlucky Malicorne, whose woeful countenance might have softened or set laughing whoever observed it coolly. He had promptly intrenched himself behind a large chair, as if to avoid the first attacks of Madame de Saint-Remy; he had no hopes of prevailing with words, for she spoke louder than he, and without stopping; but he reckoned upon the eloquence of his gestures. The old lady would neither listen to nor see anything; Malicorne had long been one of her antipathies. But her anger was too great not to overflow from Malicorne on his accomplice. Montalais had her turn. “And you, mademoiselle; you may be certain I shall inform madame of what is going on in the apartment of one of her ladies of honor?” “Oh, dear mother!” cried Mademoiselle de la Vallière, “for mercy’s sake, spare--” “Hold your tongue, mademoiselle, and do not uselessly trouble yourself to intercede for unworthy people; that a young maid of honor like you should be subjected to a bad example is, certes, a misfortune great enough; but that you should sanction it by your indulgence is what I will not allow.” “But in truth,” said Montalais, rebelling again, “I do not know under what pretense you treat me thus. I am doing no harm, I suppose?” “And that great good-for-nothing, mademoiselle,” resumed Madame de Saint-Remy, pointing to Malicorne, “is he here to do any good, I ask you?” “He is neither here for good nor harm, madame; he comes to see me, that is all.” “It is all very well! all very well!” said the old lady. “Her royal highness shall be informed of it, and she will judge.” “At all events, I do not see why,” replied Montalais, “it should be forbidden M. Malicorne to have intentions towards me, if his intentions are honorable.” “Honorable intentions with such a face!” cried Madame de Saint-Remy. “I thank you in the name of my face, madame,” said Malicorne. “Come, my daughter, come,” continued Madame de Saint-Remy; “we will go and inform madame that at the very moment she is weeping for her husband, at the moment when we are all weeping for a master in this old castle of Blois, the abode of grief, there are people who amuse themselves with flirtations!” “Oh!” cried both the accused, with one voice. “A maid of honor! a maid of honor!” cried the old lady, lifting her hands towards heaven. “Well! it is there you are mistaken, madame,” said Montalais, highly exasperated; “I am no longer a maid of honor, of madame’s at least.” “Have you given in your resignation, mademoiselle? That is well! I cannot but applaud such a determination, and I do applaud it.” “I do not give in my resignation, madame; I take another service,--that is all.” “In the _bourgeoisie_ or in the _robe?_” asked Madame de Saint-Remy, disdainfully.