Raising the curtain, Louis XIV. offered his hand, and the royal brother and sister-in-law re-entered the cabinet, where their return was eagerly awaited by Madame de Maintenon, and uneasily expected by the minister of war.

"Monsieur de Louvois," said the king, "I am in possession of all the details that relate to the shameful abuse that has been made of my name in Germany. The cruel practices which you have authorized toward an innocent population must cease at once, and our troops be commanded to prosecute the war as becomes the army of a Christian nation."

The king, while he spoke these words, was gradually advancing to his writing-desk, which stood close to the mantel. Seating himself in his arm-chair, he turned his countenance away from the penetrating glances of De Maintenon, and began to play with the bronze shovel and tongs that lay crossed upon the fender.

After a pause, during which he waited in vain for a reply from
Louvois, he resumed: "Why do you not answer me, Louvois?"

"Sire, your wishes shall be fulfilled. The next courier that leaves for Germany, shall bear your royal commands to the army, and they shall be ordered to remain altogether on the defensive."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SIR?" cried the king.

"If your majesty intends to treat your enemies with clemency, you must expect no more victories, but remain content with the territory you have already acquired. What are we to do, if we are crippled by injudicious and false humanity? Must we relinquish our claims? Shall we content ourselves with having made threats which we are too pusillanimous to execute?"

"Monsieur," said Louis, haughtily, "you are becoming impertinent. Cease your questions, and obey my commands. Send off your couriers at once. Trier shall not be destroyed; nor shall its inhabitants be driven from their dwellings. Private property shall be respected, and the temples of the Most High held sacred."

"Sire," said Louvois, "I will obey; but, unhappily, as regards
Trier, your clemency comes too late. I cannot save it."

"Cannot!" shouted Louis, who to please his sister-in-law had worked himself into a veritable fury. "Who dares say he cannot, when I command?"

"Your majesty, what is done cannot be undone."

At these words the king sprang from his chair, still holding the tongs in his hand.

"Do you mean to say that you have ordered new atrocities to be commited in Germany?" exclaimed he.

"Sire," replied Louvois defiantly, "if it pleases you to term the necessities of war atrocities, so be it. The people of Trier having imitated the stubbornness of those of Speier, I ordered them to be subjected to the same treatment."

"Sir," cried Louis, raising the tongs, as if he intended to assail his minister with them, "you shall countermand this order at once, or I will smite you as the lightning blasts the oak!" All this time he was advancing, until the tongs were in dangerous proximity with Louvois' head. [Footnote: Historical.—See "Memoirs of the Court of France," by the Marquis de Dangeau.]

The minister was thoroughly frightened. "Sire," exclaimed he, receding in terror, "would you murder me?"

"It would be too honorable an end for you to die by my hands," replied the king, letting fall his tongs. "But this I say to you: if Trier is destroyed I will make an example of you that shall deter any other traitor from using my name to gratify his wicked revenge. Send off your couriers; nor return to this palace until you come to inform me that Trier is safe." So saying, the King turned his back, and began to converse with Madame de Maintenon on the subject of an afternoon ride; after which he offered his arm to his sister-in-law and conducted her himself to the head of the private staircase.

He had no sooner left the room than Louvois darted to the side of Madame de Maintenon, who was just about to raise a portiere leading to her own apartments.

Catching her dress in his agitation, Louvois implored her to remain.

"Wherefore, monsieur?" asked she, coldly.

"Oh, madame, I fear that I shall never be able to rescue this accursed city, and, I implore you, be my mediatrix with his majesty."

"On what grounds, monsieur?"

"Oh, madame, you have enemies as well as I: let us make a compact together, and crush them all. Uphold me for this once, and you will not find me ungrateful."

"I fear no man's enmity," was the reply of the marquise. "My trust is in God, who ruleth all things."

"You refuse me then?" said Louvois.

"I am not in a position to defy the king, and uphold his rebellious subjects. Were I Queen of France, my influence would, perhaps, avail; as it is, I would advise you to make all speed to dispatch your couriers, and thereby rescue Trier and yourself."

With these consolatory words, the marquise disappeared; and Louvois, taking her advice, unpalatable though it was, rushed in undignified haste through the corridors, and plunging into his carriage, was driven at full gallop to his hotel.

Twenty minutes later his couriers were on their way. To him who arrived at Trier first, Louvois promised a purse of one thousand louis d'ors, and, if he reached the city in time to save it, the sum was to be doubled.

Thanks to this reward, as well as to the dilatory movements of the courier that had borne the order for destruction. Trier was saved on the very morning of the day which should have been its last.

Louvois was ordered to bring the news to the duchess in person.

She was in her cabinet with the Duke de Chartres, who had been complaining of the ugliness and stupidity of his affianced bride. Louvois was announced, and the duchess, in her impetuous way, hurried to the door and met him—not by way of welcoming him, however.

"I never expected to see you here under my roof," said she, "nor would I receive you had you not come from his majesty."

"Madame, I will withdraw as soon as my message is delivered," replied Louvois, haughtily. "His majesty has sent me to announce to your royal highness that Trier is safe."

"Now, God be thanked!" exclaimed Elizabeth-Charlotte solemnly.

"With your leave, madame, I withdraw," observed Louvois.

"Not yet. You have brought me tidings of one deliverance—I will impart to you another. Have you any news from my poor Laura?"

A cloud overspread the minister's brow. "I have not heard from her for more than a year, at which time she fled from her husband's castle, how or whither he has never been able to discover."

"And you—have you no idea of her whereabouts?"

"She must either have died, or have retired to a convent."

"She has done neither," replied the duchess.

"She lives!" cried Louvois, with more terror in his voice than joy.

"Yes: dear, ill-used Laura! She lives, and lives happily with him whose arm will protect her against future persecution."

"Your royal highness does not mean to say that my daughter has sought the protection of Prince Eugene?" cried Louvois.

"I do, indeed: they are united at last, whom you sought to put asunder."

"Great God!" was the minister's exclamation. "She has given herself up to shame! She lives publicly as the mistress of a man who was not worthy to become her husband! Your royal highness must have been misinformed."

"I have it from herself, nevertheless."

"And your royal highness, that bears the name of the most virtuous woman in Paris, is not shocked at her unchastity?"

"Unchastity! You talk of unchastity, who, while she was plighting her troth to this same Eugene, were not ashamed to prostitute her to Strozzi! Cease your disgusting cant, and learn that I acknowledge and respect the tie that binds your daughter to her real spouse: and woe to you, if you dare trouble the current of her peaceful life! Farewell. Say to his majesty that I shall be forever grateful for the deliverance of Trier."

"Philip," added she, when Louvois had left the room, "forgive me, beloved son, if I sacrificed you to the well-being of my oppressed countrymen! You say that your affianced is stupid; but every weary hour you spend in her society shall be repaid to you by the blessings of those whom you have saved from assassination. Moreover, Mademoiselle de Blois is not yet your bride, and many a thing may intervene to prevent you from being forced to espouse her. If your mother can do any thing to frustrate it, be sure that she will come to your assistance. Her consent was wrung from her, 'tis true—but not her willingness."

"Laura the mistress of Eugene of Savoy!" muttered Louvois, as he descended the marble staircase of the ducal palace. "And to propitiate that royal virago, I dare not revenge myself! But no!" said he suddenly, "no—I need not lift a finger. I will leave it to Barbesieur; HE will attend to it. He will put an end to her infamous life!"