"I?" exclaimed La Valliere.
"Forgive me; I hardly know what I am saying; a thousand times, forgive me. Madame was right, quite right; this brutal exile has completely turned my brain."
"And yet it seemed to me that the king received you with kindness."
"Do you think so? Received me with kindness — perhaps so — yes "
"There cannot be a doubt he received you kindly, for, in fact, you have returned without his permission."
"Quite true, and I believe you are right. But have you not seen Monsieur de Bragelonne here?"
La Valliere started at the name.
"Why do you ask?" she inquired.
"Have I offended you again?" said De Guiche. "In that case, I am indeed unhappy, and greatly to be pitied."
"Yes, very unhappy, and very much to be pitied. Monsieur de Guiche, for you seem to be suffering terribly."
"Oh, mademoiselle, why have I not a devoted sister, or a true friend, such as yourself?"
"You have friends. Monsieur de Guiche, and the Vicomte de Bragelonne, of whom you spoke just now, is, I believe, one of them."
"Yes, yes, you are right; he is one of my best friends. Farewell, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, farewell."
And he fled, like one possessed, along the banks of the lake. His dark shadow glided, lengthening as it disappeared among the illumined yews and glittering undulations of the water. La Valliere looked after him, saying:
"Yes, yes; he, too, is suffering, and I begin to understand why."
She had hardly finished when her companions. Mlle. de Montalais and Mlle. de Tonnay-Charente, ran forward. They were released from their attendance, and had changed their costumes of nymphs; delighted with the beautiful night, and the success of the evening, they returned to look after their companion.
"What, already here!" they said to her. "We thought we should be the first at the rendezvous."
"I have been here this quarter of an hour," replied La Valliere.
"Did not the dancing amuse you?"
"No."
"But surely the whole spectacle?"
"No more than the dancing. As far as a spectacle is
