white arms.  There was true grief and pity in her eyes as she looked down at the snow-pale face which lay against her bosom, all the bitterness and pride gone out of it, and nothing left save the tear which sparkled under the dark lashes, and the petulant droop of the lip, like that of a child which had wept itself to sleep.  She laid her on the ottoman and placed a silken cushion under her head.  Then she gathered together and put back into the open cupboard all the jewels which were scattered about the carpet.  Having locked it, and placed the key on the table where its owner’s eye would readily fall upon it, she struck a gong, which summoned the little black page.

“Your mistress is indisposed,” said she.  “Go and bring her maids to her.”  And so, having done all that lay with her to do, she turned away from the great silent room, where, amid the velvet and the gilding, her beautiful rival lay like a crushed flower, helpless and hopeless.

Helpless enough, for what could she do? and hopeless too, for how could fortune aid her?  The instant that her senses had come back to her she had sent away her waiting women, and lay with clasped hands and a drawn face planning out her own weary future.  She must go; that was certain.  Not merely because it was the king’s order, but because only misery and mockery remained for her now in the palace where she had reigned supreme.  It was true that she had held her position against the queen before, but all her hatred could not blind her to the fact that her rival was a very different woman to poor meek little Maria Theresa.  No; her spirit was broken at last.  She must accept defeat, and she must go.

She rose from the couch, feeling that she had aged ten years in an hour.  There was much to be done, and little time in which to do it.  She had cast down her jewels when the king had spoken as though they would atone for the loss of his love; but now that the love was gone there was no reason why the jewels should be lost too.  If she had ceased to be the most powerful, she might still be the richest woman in France.  There was her pension, of course.  That would be a munificent one, for Louis was always generous.  And then there was all the spoil which she had collected during these long years—­the jewels the pearls, the gold, the vases, the pictures, the crucifixes, the watches, the trinkets—­together they represented many millions of livres.  With her own hands she packed away the more precious and portable of them, while she arranged with her brother for the safe-keeping of the others.  All day she was at work in a mood of feverish energy, doing anything and everything which might distract her thoughts from her own defeat and her rival’s victory.  By evening all was ready, and she had arranged that her property should be sent after her to Petit Bourg, to which castle she intended to retire.

It wanted half an hour of the time fixed for her departure, when a young cavalier, whose face was strange to her, was ushered into the room.