LITMIR.BIZ

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is all very well! all very well!” said the old lady. “Her royal highness shall be informed of it, and she will judge.”

      “At all events, I do not see why,” replied Montalais, “it should be forbidden M. Malicorne to have intentions towards me, if his intentions are honorable.”

      “Honorable intentions with such a face!” cried Madame de Saint-Remy.

      “I thank you in the name of my face, madame,” said Malicorne.

      “Come, my daughter, come,” continued Madame de Saint-Remy; “we will go and inform madame that at the very moment she is weeping for her husband, at the moment when we are all weeping for a master in this old castle of Blois, the abode of grief, there are people who amuse themselves with flirtations!”

      “Oh!” cried both the accused, with one voice.

      “A maid of honor! a maid of honor!” cried the old lady, lifting her hands towards heaven.

      “Well! it is there you are mistaken, madame,” said Montalais, highly exasperated; “I am no longer a maid of honor, of madame’s at least.”

      “Have you given in your resignation, mademoiselle? That is well! I cannot but applaud such a determination, and I do applaud it.”

      “I do not give in my resignation, madame; I take another service, – that is all.”

      “In the bourgeoisie or in the robe?” asked Madame de Saint-Remy, disdainfully.

      “Please to learn, madame, that I am not a girl to serve either bourgeoises or robines; and that instead of the miserable court at which you vegetate, I am going to reside in a court almost royal.”

      “Ha, ha! a royal court,” said Madame de Saint-Remy, forcing a laugh; “a royal court! What do you think of that, my daughter?”

      And she turned towards Mademoiselle de la Valliere, whom she would by main force have dragged away from Montalais, and who instead of obeying the impulse of Madame de Saint-Remy, looked first at her mother and then at Montalais with her beautiful conciliatory eyes.

      “I did not say a royal court, madame,” replied Montalais; “because Madame Henrietta of England, who is about to become the wife of S. A. R. Monsieur, is not a queen. I said almost royal, and I spoke correctly, since she will be sister-in-law to the king.”

      A thunderbolt falling upon the castle of Blois would not have astonished Madame de Saint-Remy more than the last sentence of Montalais.

      “What do you say? of Son Altesse Royale Madame Henrietta?” stammered out the old lady.

      “I say I am going to belong to her household, as maid of honor; that is what I say.”

      “As maid of honor!” cried, at the same time, Madame de Saint-Remy with despair, and Mademoiselle de la Valliere with delight.

      “Yes, madame, as maid of honor.”

      The old lady’s head sank down as if the blow had been too severe for her. But, almost immediately recovering herself, she launched a last projectile at her adversary.

      “Oh! oh!” said she; “I have heard of many of these sorts of promises beforehand, which often lead people to flatter themselves with wild hopes, and at the last moment, when the time comes to keep the promises, and have the hopes realized, they are surprised to see the great credit upon which they reckoned vanish like smoke.”

      “Oh! madame, the credit of my protector is incontestable and his promises are as good as deeds.”

      “And would it be indiscreet to ask you the name of this powerful protector?”

      “Oh! mon Dieu! no! it is that gentleman there,” said Montalais, pointing to Malicorne, who, during this scene, had preserved the most imperturbable coolness, and the most comic dignity.

      “Monsieur!” cried Madame de Saint-Remy, with an explosion of hilarity, “monsieur is your protector! Is the man whose credit is so powerful, and whose promises are as good as deeds, Monsieur Malicorne!”

      Malicorne bowed.

      As to Montalais, as her sole reply, she drew the brevet from her pocket, and showed it to the old lady.

      “Here is the brevet,” said she.

      At once all was over. As soon as she had cast a rapid glance over this fortunate brevet, the good lady clasped her hands, an unspeakable expression of envy and despair contracted her countenance, and she was obliged to sit down to avoid fainting. Montalais was not malicious enough to rejoice extravagantly at her victory, or to overwhelm the conquered enemy, particularly when that enemy was the mother of her friend; she used then, but did not abuse her triumph. Malicorne was less generous; he assumed noble poses in his fauteuil and stretched himself out with a familiarity which, two hours earlier, would have drawn upon him threats of a caning.

      “Maid of honor to the young madame!” repeated Madame de Saint-Remy, still but half convinced.

      “Yes, madame, and through the protection of M. Malicorne, moreover.”

      “It is incredible!” repeated the old lady: “is it not incredible, Louise?” But Louise did not reply; she was sitting, thoughtfully, almost sad; passing one had over her beautiful brow, she sighed heavily.

      “Well, but, monsieur,” said Madame de Saint-Remy, all at once, “how did you manage to obtain this post?”

      “I asked for it, madame.”

      “Of whom?”

      “One of my friends.”

      “And you have friends sufficiently powerful at court to give you such proofs of their credit?”

      “It appears so.”

      “And may one ask the name of these friends?”

      “I did not say I had many friends, madame, I said I had one friend.”

      “And that friend is called?”

      “Peste! madame, you go too far! When one has a friend as powerful as mine, we do not publish his name in that fashion, in open day, in order that he may be stolen from us.”

      “You are right, monsieur, to be silent as to that name; for I think it would be pretty difficult for you to tell it.”

      “At all events,” said Montalais, “if the friend does not exist, the brevet does, and that cuts short the question.”

      “Then, I conceive,” said Madame de Saint-Remy, with the gracious smile of the cat who is going to scratch, “when I found monsieur here just now – ”

      “Well?”

      “He brought you the brevet.”

      “Exactly, madame; you have guessed rightly.”

      “Well, then, nothing can be more moral or proper.”

      “I think so, madame.”

      “And I have been wrong, as it appears, in reproaching you, mademoiselle.”

      “Very wrong, madame; but I am so accustomed to your reproaches, that I pardon you these.”

      “In that case, let us begone, Louise; we have nothing to do but retire. Well!”

      “Madame!” said La Valliere starting, “did you speak?”

      “You do not appear to be listening, my child.”

      “No, madame, I was thinking.”

      “About what?”

      “A thousand things.”

      “You bear me no ill-will, at least, Louise?” cried Montalais, pressing her hand.

      “And why should I, my dear Aure?” replied the girl in a voice soft as a flute.

      “Dame!” resumed Madame de Saint-Remy; “if she did bear you a little ill-will, poor girl, she could not be much blamed.”

      “And

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