“What do you mean?” said Madame, growing angry. “I mean that they wished to keep you in ignorance of the affair altogether.” “But why should they wish to conceal it from me?” “From the fear that your friendship for the young queen might induce you to say something about it to her, nothing more.” Madame hung down her head; her feelings were grievously wounded. She could not enjoy a moment’s repose until she had met the king. As a king is, most naturally, the very last person in his kingdom who knows what is said about him, in the same way that a lover is the only one who is kept in ignorance of what is said about his mistress, therefore, when the king perceived Madame, who was looking for him, he approached her in some perturbation, but still gracious and attentive in his manner. Madame waited for him to speak about La Vallière first; but as he did not speak of her, she said, “And the poor girl?” “What poor girl?” said the king. “La Vallière. Did you not tell me, sire, that she had fainted?” “She is still very ill,” said the king, affecting the greatest indifference. “But surely that will prejudicially affect the rumor you were going to spread, sire?” “What rumor?” “That your attention was taken up by her.” “Oh!” said the king, carelessly, “I trust it will be reported all the same.” Madame still waited; she wished to know if the king would speak to her of the adventure of the royal oak. But the king did not say a word about it. Madame, on her side, did not open her lips about it; so that the king took leave of her without having reposed the slightest confidence in her. Hardly had she watched the king move away, than she set out in search of Saint-Aignan. Saint-Aignan was never very difficult to find; he was like the smaller vessels that always follow in the wake of, and as tenders to, the larger ships. Saint-Aignan was the very man whom Madame needed in her then state of mind. And as for him, he only looked for worthier ears than others he had found to have an opportunity of recounting the event in all its details. And so he did not spare Madame a single word of the whole affair. When he had finished, Madame said to him, “Confess, now, that is his all a charming invention.” “Invention, no; a true story, yes.” “Confess, whether invention or true story, that it was told to you as you have told it to me, but that you were not there.” “Upon my honor, Madame, I was there.” “And you think that these confessions may have made an impression on the king?” “Certainly, as those of Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente did upon me,” replied Saint-Aignan; “do not forget, Madame, that Mademoiselle de la Vallière compared the king to the sun; that was flattering enough.” “The king does not permit himself to be influenced by such flatteries.” “Madame, the king is just as much Adonis as Apollo; and I saw plain enough just now when La Vallière fell into his arms.” “La Vallière fell into the king’s arms!”