Let us leave poor La Vallière, who had fainted in the arms of her two companions, and return to the precincts of the royal oak. The young girls had hardly run twenty paces, when the sound which had so much alarmed them was renewed among the branches. A man’s figure might indistinctly be perceived, and putting the branches of the bushes aside, he appeared upon the verge of the wood, and perceiving that the place was empty, burst out into a peal of laughter. It is almost superfluous to add that the form in question was that of a young and handsome cavalier, who immediately made a sign to another, who thereupon made his appearance. “What, sire,” said the second figure, advancing timidly, “has your majesty put our young sentimentalists to flight?” “It seems so,” said the king, “and you can show yourself without fear.” “Take care, sire, you will be recognized.” “But I tell you they are flown.” “This is a most fortunate meeting, sire; and, if I dared offer an opinion to your majesty, we ought to follow them.” “They are far enough away by this time.” “They would quickly allow themselves to be overtaken, especially if they knew who were following them.” “What do you mean by that, coxcomb that you are?” “Why, one of them seems to have taken a fancy to me, and another compared you to the sun.” “The greater reason why we should not show ourselves, Saint-Aignan. The sun never shows itself in the night-time.” “Upon my word, sire, your majesty seems to have very little curiosity. In your place, I should like to know who are the two nymphs, the two dryads, the two hamadryads, who have so good an opinion of us.” “I shall know them again very well, I assure you, without running after them.” “By what means?” “By their voices, of course. They belong to the court, and the one who spoke of me had a remarkably sweet voice.” “Ah! your majesty permits yourself to be influenced by flattery.” “No one will ever say it is a means _you_ make use of.” “Forgive my stupidity, sire.” “Come; let us go and look where I told you.” “Is the passion, then, which your majesty confided to me, already forgotten?” “Oh! no, indeed. How is it possible to forget such beautiful eyes as Mademoiselle de la Vallière has?” “Yet the other one has a beautiful voice.” “Which one?” “The lady who has fallen in love with the sun.” “M. de Saint-Aignan!” “Forgive me, sire.” “Well, I am not sorry you should believe me to be an admirer of sweet voices as well as of beautiful eyes. I know you to be a terrible talker, and to-morrow I shall have to pay for the confidence I have shown you.” “What do you mean, sire?” “That to-morrow every one will know that I have designs upon this little La Vallière; but be careful, Saint-Aignan, I have confided my secret to no one but you, and if any one should speak to me about it, I shall know who has betrayed my secret.” “You are angry, sire.” “No; but you understand I do not wish to compromise the poor girl.” “Do not be afraid, sire.”