Louis was not listening to the verses. He was looking at the young girl who stood with downcast eyes, not daring to glance his way.
Louise de la Vallière was very shy, and obviously in agony because she feared she would forget her words. Now came her cue to join Diana’s handmaidens in a song, and Louise missed it.
She looked at the King and the King was looking at her; she blushed hotly and a wave of tenderness swept over Louis. Poor child! She was shy because she was taking part in a ballet with him, and he himself had seen that she was not so clever at the acting and singing as some of the girls.
He smiled, and he saw that it was all she could do to prevent herself falling on her knees before him. He raised his eyebrows. His lips formed the words: “I am not now the King; I am merely Spring.” They seemed like part of the ballet. La Vallière smiled, tremulous and adoring; and Louis, accustomed as he was to admiration, was well-pleased.
They walked about the gardens of Fontainebleau, the ladies and gentlemen of the Court. Henriette had changed Diana’s draperies for a gown of cloth of silver and scarlet. Until today the King would have been beside her. With feelings of mingling relief and regret she saw that he was with a group which included La Vallière. It was as they had planned, but how she wished he had refused to carry out their plan! She imagined his coming to her and saying: “I care not for their gossip. I wish to be with you, and with you I shall be.”
Armand, the Comte de Guiche, was beside her. “Madame,” he said fervently, “may I congratulate you on a wonderful performance?”
“You are kind, Monsieur le Comte.”
“It is you who are kind, Madame, to allow me to speak thus with you.”
“Oh come, monsieur, we do not stand on ceremony on such occasions. Those are the King’s orders. See how he himself mingles with his guests.”
“It has been so difficult to speak with Madame,” said de Guiche. “Usually the King is at her side. I am delighted to have this opportunity.”
“The part you played in the ballet was considerable, Comte. You were a great success.”
“I shall treasure such praise, coming whence it does.”
“You have an air of melancholy. You have not quarreled with Monsieur, have you?”
“No, Madame.”
“Then is anything amiss?”
“Amiss, Madame? I am the victim of a hopeless passion. I love a lady, the most delightful in the Court, and I have no hope that my passion will ever be returned.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I did not know you cared for ladies.”
“I never did until I saw this one.”
“I am sorry she will have none of you. Have you courted her long?”
“I have seen her often, but there has been little opportunity for courtship. She is far above me. She is elegant; she is slender; and she is quite different from the plump beauties of the Court.”
Henriette smiled. “Then I can only wish you the good fortune of falling out of love, since you cannot win this woman. Now, Monsieur le Comte, will you conduct me to the King? I wish to hear whether he himself is satisfied with our entertainment.”
She was thinking: I cannot bear to be away from him. He has shown the arranged interest in La Vallière, and I mine in de Guiche; we have done our duty for this night, and we must not break away too suddenly.
She noticed how Louis’ face lighted as she approached, and in that moment Fontainebleau was a very happy place for Henriette.
Philippe faced his friend and demanded an explanation of his conduct. “You … flirting with Madame! What means this?”
“You have been misinformed.”
“My eyes do not misinform me. I saw you. You were mincing along beside her, complimenting her like a young fop bent on seduction!”
“Does Monsieur think Madame would look my way?”
“It appears that she did.”
“Only because …”
“Never mind why she smiled on you! Why did you smile on her?”
“She is enchanting.”
“Armand!”
“Of what use to deny it?” said the Comte. “Of course I am in love with Madame. I was in love with her before anyone else saw how delightful she really was. I have always watched her; I have always understood her … known more of her than anyone….”
“How dare you stand there and tell me you love my wife … you who are my friend!”
“Monsieur … Philippe … I am sorry. I love you. I have loved you since we were boys. This is different. It should not come between us. You, as her husband, should understand that.”
“What has that to do with you and me?”
“You know her … how charming she is. I feel that I have helped to make her what she is today. I have helped to tear away that shyness, that gaucherie … but to me, even that was charming.”
“Armand! I will not have you talk thus before me. Do not imagine that my favor is for you alone. There are others who would be only too ready to take your place in my affections. You may go away for all I care. And, in fact, if you are thinking of making love to Henriette, go you certainly shall! Do not imagine you can make me jealous by preferring my wife!”
De Guiche threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. “I see this is an impossible situation. I shall leave the Court, I shall go to the country. I cannot stay here any longer.”
“Then go!” cried Philippe. “I have other friends to fill your place.”
So Armand de Guiche retired to the country, and all the Court whispered that he did so because Monsieur had discovered his love for Madame.
Louis had kept his part of the bargain. He had sought out the little Vallière. He enjoyed being kind to her because she was such a frightened little thing and overawed to have the attention of the King focused upon herself. She could not understand why, until other maids of honor told her that he was falling in love with her.
“It is impossible!” cried the little Vallière. “The King would never fall in love with me, when there are so many beauties of the Court all sighing for him.”
But Louis continued to seek her out. He would be by her side when the Court rode together; he would join in the dance with her, for she was present at those informal occasions at Fontainbleau; he would say: “Come, Mademoiselle de la Vallière, come and watch the piquet.”
Sometimes he himself would play, and when everything he did was applauded, La Vallière would clasp her hands together and her big brown eyes would be wide with adoration.
Louis thought: Poor child! She seeks too much to please. Oh, Henriette, if we could but be together! If only you were with me now!
The Queen was near her time. She spent much of the day lying in bed playing cards, in which she took great delight, still eating a great deal—far too much, it was said, for the good of the child.
Louis visited her as rarely as he could without calling attention to the fact that she bored him.
His mother was delighted because he was no longer constantly in the company of Henriette. She did not appear in public as frequently as before; she was content to leave state matters to Louis and his ministers. Like her daughter-in-law, her chief interest was in food and cards, although she had a love of the theater; she was content to keep certain ladies with her to gossip in her ruelle every night and bring her the latest scandals.
It was evening, and Louis was strolling through the grounds of Versailles with a little party of noblemen and ladies. Among the group was La Vallière.