“Do you think so? Received me with kindness--perhaps so--yes--” “There cannot be a doubt he received you kindly, for, in fact, you returned without his permission.” “Quite true, and I believe you are right. But have you not seen M. de Bragelonne here?” La Vallière started at the name. “Why do you ask?” she inquired. “Have I offended you again?” said De Guiche. “In that case I am indeed unhappy, and greatly to be pitied.” “Yes, very unhappy, and very much to be pitied, Monsieur de Guiche, for you seem to be suffering terribly.” “Oh! mademoiselle, why have I not a devoted sister, or a true friend, such as yourself?” “You have friends, Monsieur de Guiche, and the Vicomte de Bragelonne, of whom you spoke just now, is, I believe, one of the most devoted.” “Yes, yes, you are right, he is one of my best friends. Farewell, Mademoiselle de la Vallière, farewell.” And he fled, like one possessed, along the banks of the lake. His dark shadow glided, lengthening as it disappeared, among the illumined yews and glittering undulations of the water. La Vallière looked after him, saying,--“Yes, yes, he, too, is suffering, and I begin to understand why.” She had hardly finished when her companions, Mademoiselle de Montalais and Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, ran forward. They were released from their attendance, and had changed their costumes of nymphs; delighted with the beautiful night, and the success of the evening, they returned to look after their companion. “What, already here!” they said to her. “We thought we should be first at the rendezvous.” “I have been here this quarter of an hour,” replied La Vallière. “Did not the dancing amuse you?” “No.” “But surely the enchanting spectacle?” “No more than the dancing. As far as beauty is concerned, I much prefer that which these dark woods present, in whose depths can be seen, now in one direction and again in another, a light passing by, as though it were an eye, in color like a midnight rainbow, sometimes open, at others closed.” “La Vallière is quite a poetess,” said Tonnay-Charente. “In other words,” said Montalais, “she is insupportable. Whenever there is a question of laughing a little or of amusing ourselves, La Vallière begins to cry; whenever we girls have reason to cry, because, perhaps, we have mislaid our dresses, or because our vanity as been wounded, or our costume fails to produce an effect, La Vallière laughs.” “As far as I am concerned, that is not my character,” said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente. “I am a woman; and there are few like me; whoever loves me, flatters me; whoever flatters me, pleases me; and whoever pleases--” “Well!” said Montalais, “you do not finish.” “It is too difficult,” replied Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, laughing loudly. “Do you, who are so clever, finish for me.” “And you, Louise?” said Montalais, “does any one please you?”