“Oh, sire, that is not the greatest misfortune; for, after all, the orchestra could still just as well cut it out, if it were necessary; but--” “But what?” “Why, M. de Guiche is here.” “Here?” replied the king, frowning, “here? Are you sure?” “Yes, sire; and ready dressed for the ballet.” The king felt himself color deeply, and said, “You are probably mistaken.” “So little is that the case, sire, that if your majesty will look to the right, you will see that the comte is in waiting.” Louis turned hastily towards the side, and in fact, on his right, brilliant in his character of Autumn, De Guiche awaited until the king should look at him, in order that he might address him. To give an idea of the stupefaction of the king, and that of Monsieur, who was moving about restlessly in his box,--to describe also the agitated movement of the heads in the theater, and the strange emotion of Madame, at the sight of her partner,--is a task we must leave to abler hands. The king stood almost gaping with astonishment as he looked at the comte, who, bowing lowly, approached Louis with the profoundest respect. “Sire,” he said, “your majesty’s most devoted servant approaches to perform a service on this occasion with similar zeal that he has already shown on the field of battle. Your majesty, in omitting the dance of the Fruits, would be losing the most beautiful scene in the ballet. I did not wish to be the substance of so dark a shadow to your majesty’s elegance, skill, and graceful invention; and I have left my tenants in order to place my services at your majesty’s commands.” Every word fell distinctly, in perfect harmony and eloquence, upon Louis XIV.’s ears. Their flattery pleased, as much as De Guiche’s courage had astonished him, and he simply replied: “I did not tell you to return, comte.” “Certainly not, sire; but your majesty did not tell me to remain.”