the professed wits of his sparkling court had ever been able to give to him, and here, too, the more sagacious of the courtiers were beginning to understand, was the point, formerly to be found in the magnificent salons of De Montespan, whence flowed those impulses and tendencies which were so eagerly studied, and so keenly followed up by all who wished to keep the favour of the king.  It was a simple creed, that of the court.  Were the king pious, then let all turn to their missals and their rosaries.  Were he rakish, then who so rakish as his devoted followers?  But woe to the man who was rakish when he should be praying, or who pulled a long face when the king wore a laughing one!  And thus it was that keen eyes were ever fixed upon him, and upon every influence that came near him, so that the wary courtier, watching the first subtle signs of a coming change, might so order his conduct as to seem to lead rather than to follow.

The young guardsman had scarce ever exchanged a word with this powerful lady, for it was her taste to isolate herself, and to appear with the court only at the hours of devotion.  It was therefore with some feelings both of nervousness and of curiosity that he followed his guide down the gorgeous corridors, where art and wealth had been strewn with so lavish a hand.  The lady paused in front of the chamber door, and turned to her companion.

“Madame wishes to speak to you of what occurred this morning,” said she.  “I should advise you to say nothing to madame about your creed, for it is the only thing upon which her heart can be hard.”  She raised her finger to emphasise the warning, and tapping at the door, she pushed it open.  “I have brought Captain de Catinat, madame,” said she.

“Then let the captain step in.”  The voice was firm, and yet sweetly musical.

Obeying the command, De Catinat found himself in a room which was no larger and but little better furnished than that which was allotted to his own use.  Yet, though simple, everything in the chamber was scrupulously neat and clean, betraying the dainty taste of a refined woman.  The stamped-leather furniture, the La Savonniere carpet, the pictures of sacred subjects, exquisite from an artist’s point of view, the plain but tasteful curtains, all left an impression half religious and half feminine but wholly soothing.  Indeed, the soft light, the high white statue of the Virgin in a canopied niche, with a perfumed red lamp burning before it, and the wooden prie-dieu with the red-edged prayer-book upon the top of it, made the apartment look more like a private chapel than a fair lady’s boudoir.