circles, preserve the spirit of a nun. But on this point he was soon
undeceived, for when his own language had become warmer than that of
friendship, he had been met by an iciness of manner and a brevity of
speech which had shown him that there was one woman at least in his
dominions who had a higher respect for herself than for him. And
perhaps it was better so. The placid pleasures of friendship were very
soothing after the storms of passion. To sit in her room every
afternoon, to listen to talk which was not tainted with flattery, and to
hear opinions which were not framed to please his ear, were the
occupations now of his happiest hours. And then her influence over him
was all so good! She spoke of his kingly duties, of his example to his
subjects, of his preparation for the World beyond, and of the need for
an effort to snap the guilty ties which he had formed. She was as good
as a confessor--a confessor with a lovely face and a perfect arm.

And now he knew that the time had come when he must choose between her
and De Montespan. Their influences were antagonistic. They could not
continue together. He stood between virtue and vice, and he must
choose. Vice was very attractive too, very comely, very witty, and
holding him by that chain of custom which is so hard to shake off.
There were hours when his nature swayed strongly over to that side, and
when he was tempted to fall back into his old life. But Bossuet and
Pere la Chaise were ever at his elbows to whisper encouragement, and,
above all, there was Madame de Maintenon to remind him of what was due
to his position and to his six-and-forty years. Now at last he had
braced himself for a supreme effort. There was no safety for him while
his old favourite was at court. He knew himself too well to have any
faith in a lasting change so long as she was there ever waiting for his
moment of weakness. She must be persuaded to leave Versailles, if
without a scandal it could be done. He would be firm when he met her in