Monsieur has lost everything in my estimation, since he has shown me he can be a tyrant to a woman." "Nay, nay, my brother's only fault is that of loving you." "Love me! Monsieur love me! Ah! sire," and she burst out laughing.
"Monsieur will never love any woman," she said; "Monsieur loves himself too much; no, unhappily for me, Monsieur's jealousy is of the worst kind--he is jealous without love." "Confess, however," said the king, who began to be excited by this varied and animated conversation; "confess that Guiche loves you." "Ah! sire, I know nothing about that." "You must have perceived it.

A man who loves readily betrays himself." "M.

de Guiche has not betrayed himself." "My dear sister, you are defending M.de Guiche." "I, indeed! Ah, sire, I only needed a suspicion from yourself to crown my wretchedness." "No, madame, no," returned the king, hurriedly; "do not distress yourself.

Nay, you are weeping.

I implore you to calm yourself." She wept, however, and large tears fell upon her hands; the king took one of her hands in his, and kissed the tears away.