that La Valliere was fatigued, and the sitting was, therefore, suspended for awhile; and, immediately, a tray of precious porcelain, laden with the most beautiful fruits which could be obtained, and rich wines distilling their bright colors in silver goblets beautifully chased, served as accessories to the picture of which the painter could but retrace the most ephemeral resemblance. Louis was intoxicated with love, La Valliere with happiness, Saint-Aignan with ambition, and the painter was storing up recollections for his old age. Two hours passed away in this manner, and four o'clock having struck, La Valliere rose and made a sign to the king. Louis also rose, approached the picture, and addressed a few flattering remarks to the painter. Saint-Aignan also praised the picture, which, as he pretended, was already beginning to assume an accurate resemblance. La Valliere, in her turn, blushingly, thanked the painter, and passed into the next room, where the king followed her after having previously summoned Saint-Aignan. "Will you not come to-morrow?" he said to La Valliere. "Oh! sire, pray think that some one will be sure to come to my room, and will not find me there." "Well!" "What will become of me in that case?" "You are very apprehensive, Louise." "But, at all events, suppose Madame were to send for me." "Oh!" replied the king, "will the day never come when you yourself will tell me to brave everything, so that I may not have to leave you again." "On that day, then, sire, I shall be quite out of my mind, and you ought not to believe me." "To-morrow, Louise." La Valliere sighed, but, without the courage to oppose her royal lover's wish, she repeated, "To-morrow, then, since you desire it, sire;" and with these words she ran up the stairs lightly, and disappeared from her lover's gaze. "Well, sire?" inquired Saint-Aignan, when she had left. "Well, Saint-Aignan; yesterday I thought myself the happiest of men." "And does your majesty, then, regard yourself to-day," said the comte, smiling, "as the unhappiest of men?" "No; but my love for her is an unquenchable thirst; in vain do I drink, in vain do I swallow the drops of water which your industry procures for me; the more I drink the more unquenchable is my thirst." "Sire, that is in some degree your own fault, and your majesty alone has made the position such as it is." "You are right." "In that case, therefore, the means to be happiness is to fancy yourself satisfied, and to wait." "Wait! you know that word, then?" "There, there, sire--do not despair; I have already been at work on your behalf--I have still other resources in store." The king shook his head in a despairing manner. "What, sire! have you not been satisfied hitherto?" "Oh! yes, indeed yes, my dear Saint-Aignan; but find, for Heaven's sake, find some further means yet." "Sire, I undertake to do my best, and that is all I can do."