“Tut! tut!  Why all these words?” cried the king.  “You have been sent here by others to try and influence me against Madame de Maintenon.”

“Sire, I have had nothing but kindness from that lady.  I esteem and honour her more than any lady in France.”

“In that case, abbe, you will, I am sure, be glad to hear that I am about to marry her.  Good-day, abbe.  I regret that I have not longer time to devote to this very interesting conversation.”

“But, sire—­”

“When my mind is in doubt, abbe, I value your advice very highly.  On this occasion my mind is happily not in doubt.  I have the honour to wish you a very good-day.”

The king’s first hot anger had died away by now, and had left behind it a cold, bitter spirit which was even more formidable to his antagonists.  The abbe, glib of tongue and fertile of resource as he was, felt himself to be silenced and overmatched.  He walked backwards, with three long bows, as was the custom of the court, and departed.

But the king had little breathing space.  His assailants knew that with persistence they had bent his will before, and they trusted that they might do so again.  It was Louvois, the minister, now who entered the room, with his majestic port, his lofty bearing, his huge wig, and his aristocratic face, which, however, showed some signs of trepidation as it met the baleful eye of the king.

“Well, Louvois, what now?” he asked impatiently.  “Has some new state matter arisen?”

“There is but one new state matter which has arisen, sire, but it is of such importance as to banish all others from our mind.”

“What then?”

“Your marriage, sire.”

“You disapprove of it?”

“Oh, sire, can I help it?”

“Out of my room, sir!  Am I to be tormented to death by your importunities?  What!  You dare to linger when I order you to go!” The king advanced angrily upon the minister, but Louvois suddenly flashed out his rapier.  Louis sprang back with alarm and amazement upon his face, but it was the hilt and not the point which was presented to him.

“Pass it through my heart, sire!” the minister cried, falling upon his knees, his whole great frame in a quiver with emotion.  “I will not live to see your glory fade!”

“Great heaven!” shrieked Louis, throwing the sword down upon the ground, and raising his hands to his temples, “I believe that this is a conspiracy to drive me mad.  Was ever a man so tormented in his life?  This will be a private marriage, man, and it will not affect the state in the least degree.  Do you hear me?  Have you understood me?  What more do you want?”

Louvois gathered himself up, and shot his rapier back into its sheath.

“Your Majesty is determined?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Then I say no more.  I have done my duty.”  He bowed his head as one in deep dejection when he departed, but in truth his heart was lightened within him, for he had the king’s assurance that the woman whom he hated would, even though his wife, not sit on the throne of the Queens of France.