ing anything, that a little while ago she was under the great oak, with her two friends, when the appearance of a wolf or a robber had terrified them, and made them run away."
"But," inquired the king anxiously, "what are the names of these two friends?"
"Sire," said St. Aignan, "will your majesty send me forthwith to the Bastile?"
"What for?"
"Because I am an egotist and a fool. My surprise was so great at such a conquest, and at so fortunate a discovery, that I went no further in my inquiries. Besides, I did not think that your majesty would attach any very great importance to what you heard, knowing how much your attention was taken up by Mademoiselle de la Valliere; and then. Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente left me precipitately to return to Mademoiselle de la Valliere."
"Let us hope, then, that I shall be as fortunate as yourself. Come, St. Aignan."
"Your majesty is ambitious, I perceive, and does not wish to allow any conquest to escape you. Well, I assure you that I will conscientiously set about my inquiries; and, moreover, from one of the three Graces we shall learn the names of the others, and, by the name, the secret."
"I, too," said the king, "only require to hear her voice to know it again. Come, let us say no more about it, but show me where poor La Valliere is."
"Well," thought St. Aignan, "the king's regard is begining to display itself, and for that girl, too. It is extraordinary; I should never have believed it." And with this thought passing through his mind, he showed the king the room where La Valliere had been taken; the king entered, followed by St. Aignan. In a low room, near a large window looking out upon the gardens, La Valliere, reclining in a large armchair, inhaled in deep draughts the perfumed evening breeze. From the loosened body of her dress the lace fell in tumbled folds, mingling with the tresses of her beautiful fair hair, which lay scattered upon her shoulders. Her languishing eyes were filled with tears; she seemed as lifeless as those beautiful visions of our dreams, which pass before the closed eyes of the sleeper, half-opening their wings without moving them, unclosing their lips without a sound escaping them. The pearl-like pallor of La Valliere possessed a charm which it would be impossible to describe. Mental and bodily suffering had produced upon her features a soft and noble expression of grief; from the perfect pas-
