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The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 24 at Prostate Health
at avillage fete might have been taken for a peasant in Sundayfinery, -- "the daughter of my music-mistress."The king smiled. Madame had never been able to extract fourcorrect notes from either viol or harpsichord."Mademoiselle Aure de Montalais," continued Madame, "a younglady of rank, and my good attendant."This time it was not the king that smiled; it was the younglady presented, because, for the first time in her life, sheheard, given to her by Madame, who generally showed notendency to spoil her, such an honorable qualification.Our old acquaintance Montalais, therefore, made his majestya profound courtesy, the more respectful from the necessityshe was under of concealing certain contractions of herlaughing lips, which the king might not have attributed totheir real cause.It was just at this moment that the king caught the wordwhich startled him."And the name of the third?" asked Monsieur."Mary, monseigneur," replied the cardinal.There was doubtless some magical influence in that word,for, as we have said, the king started at hearing it, anddrew Madame towards the middle of the circle, as if hewished to put some confidential question to her, but, inreality, for the sake of getting nearer to the cardinal."Madame my aunt," said he, laughing, and in a suppressedvoice, "my geography-master did not teach me that Blois wasat such an immense distance from Paris.""What do you mean, nephew?" asked Madame."Why, because it would appear that it requires severalyears, as regards fashion, to travel the distance! -- Lookat those young ladies!""Well; I know them all.""Some of them are pretty.""Dont say that too loud, monsieur my nephew; you will drivethem wild.""Stop a bit, stop a bit, dear aunt!" said the king, smiling;"for the second part of my sentence will serve as acorrective to the first. Well, my dear aunt, some of themappear old and others ugly, thanks to their ten-year-oldfashions.""But, sire, Blois is only five days, journey from Paris.""Yes, that is it," said the king: "two years behind for eachday.""Indeed! do you really think so? Well, that is strange! Itnever struck me.""Now, look, aunt," said Louis XIV., drawing still nearer toMazarin, under the pretext of gaining a better point ofview, "look at that simple white dress by the side of thoseantiquated specimens of finery, and those pretentiouscoiffures. She is probably one of my mothers maids ofhonor, though I dont know her.""Ah! ah! my dear nephew!" replied Madame, laughing, "permitme to tell you that your divinatory science is at fault foronce. The young lady you honor with your praise is not aParisian, but a Blaisoise.""Oh, aunt!" replied the king with a look of doubt."Come here, Louise," said Madame.And the fair girl, already known to you under that name,approached them, timid, blushing, and almost bent beneaththe royal glance."Mademoiselle Louise Francoise de la Baume le Blanc, thedaughter of the Marquise de la Valliere," said Madame,ceremoniously.The young girl bowed with so much grace, mingled with theprofound timidity inspired by the presence of the king, thatthe latter lost, while looking at her, a few words of theconversation of Monsieur and the cardinal."Daughter-in-law," continued Madame, "of M. de Saint-Remy,my maitre dhotel, who presided over the confection of thatexcellent daube truffee which your majesty seemed so much toappreciate."No grace, no youth, no beauty, could stand out against sucha presentation. The king smiled. Whether the words of Madamewere a pleasantry, or uttered in all innocency, they provedthe pitiless immolation of everything that Louis had foundcharming or poetic in the young girl. Mademoiselle de laValliere, for Madame and, by rebound, for the king, was, fora moment, no more than the daughter of a man of a superiortalent over dindes truffees.But princes are thus constituted. The gods, too, were justlike this in Olympus. Diana and Venus, no doubt, abused thebeautiful Alcmena and poor Io, when they condescended, fordistractions sake, to speak, amidst nectar and ambrosia, ofmortal beauties, at the table of Jupiter.Fortunately, Louise was so bent in her reverential salute,that she did not catch either Madames words or the kingssmile. In fact, if the poor child, who had so much goodtaste as alone to have chosen to dress herself in whiteamidst all her companions -- if that doves heart, so easilyaccessible to painful emotions, had been touched by thecruel words of Madame, or the egotistical cold smile of theking, it would have
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