"Sire," said Colbert gravely, "the Queen mourns a much greater loss--that of your majesty's affections." "_Parbleu!_" exclaimed Lauzun, gayly; "in order to lose any thing, one must first have possessed it. Now, if I don't mistake,--" "Silence! M. le Duc. M. de Colbert, my marriage was the work of Mazarin--quite sufficient to guarantee that the _heart_ was not consulted." The minister bowed, without replying. "As to you, M. de Lauzun," continued the king, "beware, henceforward, how you forget that Maria Theresa is Queen of France, and that the nature of our feelings towards her is not to be made a subject of discussion." "Sire, forgive my--" "Enough!" interrupted Louis, approaching a man, who, unmindful of the king's presence, had taken off his coat, in order the more easily to prune a tall flowering shrub. This was the celebrated gardener, Le Nôtre. Absorbed in some unpleasant train of thought, he had not heeded the approach of visitors, and continued to mutter and grumble to himself, while diligently using the pruning-knife. "What! out of humor?" asked Louis. Without resuming his coat, the gardener cried eagerly--"Sire, justice! This morning, the Queen Dowager's maids of honor came hither, and, in spite of my remonstrances, did an infinity of mischief. See this American magnolia, the only one your Majesty possesses. Well, Sire, they cut off its finest blossoms: neither oranges nor roses could escape them. Happily I succeeded in hiding from them my favorite child--my beautiful rose-tree, which I have nursed with so much care, and which will live for fifty years, provided care be taken not to allow it to produce more than one rose in the season." Then pointing to the plant of which he spoke, Le Nôtre continued: "'Tis the hundred-leaved rose, Sire! Hitherto I have saved it from pillage; but I protest, if such conduct can be renewed. "Come, come!" interposed the monarch, "we must not be too hard on young girls. They are like butterflies, and love flowers." "_Morbleu!_ Sire, butterflies don't break boughs, and eat oranges!" Louis deigned to smile at this repartee. "Tell us," he said, "who were the culprits?" "All the ladies, Sire! Yet, no. I am wrong. There was one young creature, as fresh and lovely as this very rose, who did not imitate her companions. The poor child even tried to comfort me, while the others were tearing my flowers: they called her Louise." "It was Mademoiselle de la Vallière," said Lauzun, "the young person whom your Majesty remarked yesterday in attendance on Madame Henriette." "She shall have her reward," said Louis. "Let Mademoiselle de la Vallière be the only maid of honor invited to the ball to be given here to-night." "A ball! Ah, my poor flowers!" cried Le Nôtre, clasping his hands in despair.