He asked if, on the family coat-of-arms, the husband’s coronet was to figure, or the wife’s; but, as she would not change her name, her arms, she decided, could remain as heretofore,—­the crown, the fleur-de-lis, and so forth.

He inquired if the children of the marriage would rank as princes, and she said that she saw nothing to prevent this.  He also asked if he would be raised higher in the peerage, and might look to being made a prince at last, and styled Highness as soon as the contract had been signed.

This caused some doubt and reflection.  “The King, my cousin,” said Mademoiselle, “is somewhat strict in matters of this sort.  He seems to think that the royal family is a new arch-saint, at whom one may look only when prostrate in adoration; all contract therewith is absolutely forbidden.  I begin to feel uneasy about this; yes, Lauzun, I have fears for our love and marriage.”

“Are you, then, afraid?” asked Lauzun, quite crestfallen.

“I knew how to point the Bastille cannon at the troops of the King,” she replied; “but he was very young then.  No matter, I will go and see him; if he is my King, I am his cousin; if he has his crotchets, I have my love and my will.  He can’t do anything, my dear Lauzun; I love you as once he loved La Valliere, as to-day he loves Montespan; I am not afraid of him.  As for the permission, I know our history by heart, and I will prove to him by a hundred examples that, from the time of Charlemagne up to the present time, widows and daughters of kings have married mere noblemen.  These nobleman may have been most meritorious,—­I only know them from history,—­but not one of them was as worthy as you.”

So saying, she asked for her fan, her gloves, and her horses, and attended by her grooms-in-waiting, she went to the King in person.

The King listened to her from beginning to end, and then remarked, “You refused the Kings of Denmark, Portugal, Spain, and England, and you wish to marry my captain of the guard, the Marquis de Lauzun?”

“Yes, Sire, for I place him above all monarchs,—­yourself alone excepted.”

“Do you love him immensely?”

“More than I can possibly say; a thousand, a hundred thousand times more than myself.”

“Do you think he is equally devoted to you?”—­“That would be impossible,” she tranquilly answered; “but his love for me is delicate, tender; and such friendship suffices me.”

“My cousin, in all that there is self-interest.  I entreat you to reflect.  The world, as you know, is a mocking world; you want to excite universal derision and injure the respect which is due to the place that I fill.”

“Ah, Sire, do not wound me!  I fling myself at your feet.  Have compassion upon M. de Lauzun, and pity my tears.  Do not exercise your power; let him be the consolation of my life; let me marry him.”

The King, no longer able to hide his disgust and impatience, said, “Cousin, you are now a good forty-four years old; at that age you ought to be able to take care of yourself.  Spare me all your grievances, and do what pleases you.”