"My Barbary horse against your Damascus sword that she don't, and that Montarnaud is either banished, imprisoned, or punished in some manner."
"Done, although I shall lose my sword."
"You will if he does." And as the king's sonorous and measured accents drew nearer, the courtiers be came mute and expectant.
It was in fact true, that the Grande Monarque, who, like all potent rulers, had microscopic as well as telescopic powers of vision, had, upon his first entrance into the hall, singled his favorite from among the glittering throng, and at once perceived that she was carrying on one of those audacious and sudden flirtations which some women toss off as others do a glass of champagne, or a full inhalation of volatile salts,—a brief exhilaration and stimulus, only fitting them for more serious and systematic efforts in some other direction.
Already the stimulus told; for never had Madame de Montespan looked more magnificently handsome than to-night, with her great dark eyes overflowing with brilliancy, her cheeks and lips burning with color, her wonderful hands and arms showing like those of a statue against the garnet-colored velvet of her robe, her shoulders and bust rising invincible from a sea-foam border of priceless lace. Arms and bosom and head glittered with the jewels this woman loved so much better than she did soul or honor, and which her royal lover lavished upon her with such princely munificence that she boasted of owning a richer collection than any queen could claim as private property. To
