“Louise pitied M. de Guiche just now,” said Athenais; “would it be possible to detect an explanation of her indifference for the one in this compassion for the other?” “Say what you please,” said La Vallière, sadly; “upbraid me as you like, since you do not understand me.” “Oh! oh!” replied Montalais, “temper, sorrow, tears; we are jesting, Louise, and are not, I assure you, quite the monsters you suppose. Look at the proud Athenais, as she is called; she does not love M. de Montespan, it is true, but she would be in despair if M. de Montespan did not continue to love her. Look at me; I laugh at M. Malicorne, but the poor fellow whom I laugh at knows precisely when he will be permitted to press his lips upon my hand. And yet the eldest of us is not twenty yet. What a future before us!” “Silly, silly girls!” murmured Louise. “You are quite right,” said Montalais; “and you alone have spoken words of wisdom.” “Certainly.” “I do not dispute it,” replied Athenais. “And so it is clear you do not love poor M. de Bragelonne?” “Perhaps she does,” said Montalais; “she is not yet quite certain of it. But, in any case, listen, Athenais; if M. de Bragelonne is ever free, I will give you a little friendly advice.” “What is that?” “To look at him well before you decide in favor of M. de Montespan.” “Oh! in that way of considering the subject, M. de Bragelonne is not the only one whom one could look at with pleasure; M. de Guiche, for instance, has his value also.” “He did not distinguish himself this evening,” said Montalais; “and I know from very good authority that Madame thought him insupportable.” “M. de Saint-Aignan produced a most brilliant effect, and I am sure that more than one person who saw him dance this evening will not soon forget him. Do you not think so, La Vallière?” “Why do you ask me? I did not see him, nor do I know him.” “What! you did not see M. de Saint-Aignan? Don’t you know him?” “No.” “Come, come, do not affect a virtue more extravagantly excessive than our vanity!--you have eyes, I suppose?” “Excellent.” “Then you must have seen all those who danced this evening.” “Yes, nearly all.” “That is a very impertinent ‘nearly all’ for somebody.” “You must take it for what it is worth.” “Very well; now, among all those gentlemen whom you saw, which do you prefer?” “Yes,” said Montalais, “is it M. de Saint-Aignan, or M. de Guiche, or M.--” “I prefer no one; I thought them all about the same.” “Do you mean, then, that among that brilliant assembly, the first court in the world, no one pleased you?” “I do not say that.” “Tell us, then, who your ideal is?” “It is not an ideal being.” “He exists, then?”