"One thing."
"What is it? I shall indeed be unhappy if I do cot overcome it."
"That one thing in question, sire, is not in your power, not even in the power of Heaven."
"Tell me what it is."
"The past."
"I do not understand, madame," said the king, precisely because he had understood her but too well.
The princess took his hand in hers. "Sire," she said, "I have had the misfortune to displease you for so long a period that I have almost the right to ask myself to-day why you were able to accept me as a sister-in-law."
"Displease me! You have displeased me?"
"Nay, do not deny it, for I remember it well."
"Our alliance shall date from to-day," exclaimed the king, with a warmth that was not assumed. "You will not think any more of the past, will you? I myself am resolved that I will not. I shall always remember the present; I have it before my eyes; look." And he led the princess before a mirror, in which she saw herself reflected, blushing and beautiful enough to overcome a saint.
"It is all the same," she murmured; "it will not be a very worthy alliance."
"Must I swear?" inquired the king, intoxicated by the voluptuous turn the whole conversation had taken.
"Oh, I do not refuse a good oath," said madame; "it has always the semblance of security."
The king knelt upon a footstool and took hold of madame's hand. She, with a smile that a painter could not succeed in depicting, and which a poet only could imagine, gave him both her hands, in which he hid his burning face. Neither of them could utter a syllable. The king felt madame withdraw her hands, caressing his face while she did so. He rose immediately and left the apartment. The courtiers remarked his heightened color, and concluded that the scene had been a stormy one. The Chevalier de Lorraine, however, hastened to say, "Nay, be comforted, gentlemen, his majesty is always pale when he is angry."
