He had heard them order their horses to be brought out in a couple of hours' time, and finally, from a spy whom he employed among the servants, he learned that an unwonted bustle was going forward in Madame de Maintenon's room, that Mademoiselle Nanon was half wild with excitement, and that two court milliners had been hastily summoned to madame's apartment.

It was only, however, when he heard from the same servant that a chamber was to be prepared for the reception that night of the Archbishop of Paris that he understood how urgent was the danger.
Madame de Montespan had spent the evening stretched upon a sofa, in the worst possible humour with everyone around her.

She had read, but had tossed aside the book.

She had written, but had torn up the paper.
A thousand fears and suspicions chased each other through her head.
What had become of the king, then?
He had seemed cold yesterday, and his eyes had been for ever sliding round to the clock.

And to-day he had not come at all.