CHAPTER XXXII.
DESPAIR.
As soon as the king had left her, La Valliere raised herself from the ground, and extended her arms, as if to follow and detain him; but when, having violently closed the door, the sound of his retreating footsteps could be heard in the distance, she had hardly sufficient strength left to totter toward and fall at the foot of her crucifix.

There she remained, brokenhearted, absorbed and overwhelmed by her grief, forgetful of and indifferent to everything but her profound grief itself--a grief which she could not comprehend otherwise than by instinct and acute sensation.

In the midst of the wild tumult of her thoughts, La Valliere heard her door open again; she started, and turned round, thinking that it was the king who had returned.

She was deceived, however, for it was Madame who appeared at the door.

What did she now care for Madame! Again she sank down, her head supported by her _prie-dieu_ chair.