In fact, the king’s and queen’s grand assemblies, while their majesties were speaking, and while every one present seemed to be listening in the midst of the most profound silence, some of these noiseless conversations took place, in which adulation was not the prevailing feature. But Raoul was one among others exceedingly clever in this art, so much a matter of etiquette, that from the movement of the lips, he was often able to guess the sense of the words. “Who is that Montalais?” inquired De Wardes, “and that La Vallière? What country-town have we had sent here?” “Montalais?” said the chevalier,--“oh, I know her; she is a good sort of girl, whom we shall find amusing enough. La Vallière is a charming girl, slightly lame.” “Ah! bah!” said De Wardes. “Do not be absurd, De Wardes, there are some very characteristic and ingenious Latin axioms about lame ladies.” “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said De Guiche, looking at Raoul with uneasiness, “be a little careful, I entreat you.” But the uneasiness of the count, in appearance at least, was not needed. Raoul had preserved the firmest and most indifferent countenance, although he had not lost a word that passed. He seemed to keep an account of the insolence and license of the two speakers in order to settle matters with them at the earliest opportunity. De Wardes seemed to guess what was passing in his mind, and continued: “Who are these young ladies’ lovers?” “Montalais’s lover?” said the chevalier. “Yes, Montalais first.” “You, I, or De Guiche,--whoever likes, in fact.” “And the other?” “Mademoiselle de la Vallière?” “Yes.” “Take care, gentlemen,” exclaimed De Guiche, anxious to put a stop to the chevalier’s reply; “take care, Madame is listening to us.”