“In any case this passion will make some one very happy, even if it be only La Vallière herself.” “Really,” continued the princess, “you speak as if you had read into the inmost recesses of La Vallière’s heart. Who has told you that she agrees to return the king’s affection?” “And who has told you that she will not return it?” “She loves the Vicomte de Bragelonne.” “You think so?” “She is even affianced to him.” “She was so.” “What do you mean?” “When they went to ask the king’s permission to arrange the marriage, he refused his permission.” “Refused?” “Yes, although the request was preferred by the Comte de la Fere himself, for whom the king has the greatest regard, on account of the part he took in your royal brother’s restoration, and in other events, also, which happened a long time ago.” “Well! the poor lovers must wait until the king is pleased to change his opinion; they are young, and there is time enough.” “But, dear me,” said Philip, laughing, “I perceive you do not know the best part of the affair.” “No!” “That by which the king was most deeply touched.” “The king, do you say, has been deeply touched?” “To the very quick of his heart.” “But how?--in what manner?--tell me directly.” “By an adventure, the romance of which cannot be equalled.” “You know how I love to hear of such adventures, and yet you keep me waiting,” said the princess, impatiently. “Well, then--” and Monsieur paused. “I am listening.” “Under the royal oak--you know where the royal oak is?” “What can that matter? Under the royal oak, you were saying?” “Well! Mademoiselle de la Vallière, fancying herself to be alone with her two friends, revealed to them her affection for the king.” “Ah!” said Madame, beginning to be uneasy, “her affection for the king?” “Yes.” “When was this?” “About an hour ago.” Madame started, and then said, “And no one knew of this affection?” “No one.” “Not even his majesty?” “Not even his majesty. The artful little puss kept her secret strictly to herself, when suddenly it proved stronger than herself, and so escaped her.” “And from whom did you get this absurd tale?” “Why, as everybody else did, from La Vallière herself, who confessed her love to Montalais and Tonnay-Charente, who were her companions.” Madame stopped suddenly, and by a hasty movement let go her husband’s hand. “Did you say it was an hour ago she made this confession?” Madame inquired. “About that time.” “Is the king aware of it?” “Why, that is the very thing which constitutes the perfect romance of the affair, for the king was behind the royal oak with Saint-Aignan, and heard the whole of the interesting conversation without losing a single word of it.” Madame felt struck to the heart, saying incautiously, “But I have seen the king since, and he never told me a word about it.” “Of course,” said Monsieur; “he took care not to speak of it to you himself, since he recommended every one not to say a word about it.”