His dusty and disordered clothes formed a singular contrast with the fresh and perfectly arranged toilette of Madame, who, notwithstanding the rouge on her cheeks, turned pale as Louis entered the room.

Louis lost no time in approaching the object of his visit; he sat down, and Montalais disappeared.
"My dear sister," said the king, "you are aware that Mademoiselle de la Valliere fled from her own room this morning, and that she has retired to a cloister, overwhelmed by grief and despair." As he pronounced these words, the king's voice was singularly moved.
"Your majesty is the first to inform me of it," replied Madame.
"I should have thought that you might have learned it this morning, during the reception of the ambassadors," said the king.
"From your emotion, sire, I imagined that something extraordinary had happened, but without knowing what." The king, with his usual frankness, went straight to the point.

"Why did you send Mademoiselle de la Valliere away ?" "Because I had reason to be dissatisfied with her conduct," she replied, dryly.
The king became crimson, and his eyes kindled with a fire which it required all Madame's courage to support.

He mastered his anger, however, and continued: "A stronger reason than that is surely requisite, for one so good and kind as you are, to turn away and dishonor, not only the young girl herself, but every member of her family as well.

You know that the whole city has its eyes fixed upon the conduct of the female portion of the court.