“And is that the reason why you, sire, whom I had regarded as my defender, are about to join these who persecute me?” said Madame. “I your persecutor! Heaven forbid!” “Then,” she continued, languishingly, “grant me a favor.” “Whatever you wish.” “Let me return to England.” “Never, never!” exclaimed Louis XIV. “I am a prisoner, then?” “In France--if France is a prison--yes.” “What must I do, then?” “I will tell you. Instead of devoting yourself to friendships which are somewhat unstable, instead of alarming us by your retirement, remain always in our society, do not leave us, let us live as a united family. M. de Guiche is certainly very amiable; but if, at least, we do not possess his wit--” “Ah, sire, you know very well you are pretending to be modest.” “No, I swear to you. One may be a king, and yet feel that he possesses fewer chances of pleasing than many other gentlemen.” “I am sure, sire, that you do not believe a single word you are saying.” The king looked at Madame tenderly, and said, “Will you promise me one thing?” “What is it?” “That you will no longer waste upon strangers, in your own apartments, the time which you owe us. Shall we make an offensive and defensive alliance against the common enemy?” “An alliance with you, sire?” “Why not? Are you not a sovereign power?” “But are you, sire, a reliable ally?” “You shall see, madame.” “And when shall this alliance commence?” “This very day.” “I will draw up the treaty, and you shall sign it.” “Blindly.” “Then, sire, I promise you wonders; you are the star of the court, and when you make your appearance, everything will be resplendent.” “Oh, madame, madame,” said Louis XIV., “you know well that there is no brilliancy that does not proceed from yourself, and that if I assume the sun as my device, it is only an emblem.” “Sire, you flatter your ally, and you wish to deceive her,” said Madame, threatening the king with her finger menacingly raised. “What! you believe I am deceiving you, when I assure you of my affection?” “Yes.” “What makes you so suspicious?” “One thing.” “What is it? I shall indeed be unhappy if I do not overcome it.” “That one thing in question, sire, is not in your power, not even in the power of Heaven.” “Tell me what it is.” “The past.” “I do not understand, madame,” said the king, precisely because he had understood her but too well. The princess took his hand in hers. “Sire,” she said, “I have had the misfortune to displease you for so long a period, that I have almost the right to ask myself to-day why you were able to accept me as a sister-in-law.” “Displease me! You have displeased me?” “Nay, do not deny it, for I remember it well.”