It was not until the portrait was
finished that he was set at liberty.
He returned to his home without guessing at the motives of his
detention, but he learned that his wife had had her portrait
painted during his absence, and his jealousy was set to work.
Soon a letter from Girard, a fatal letter, which fell into his
hands, convinced him of the injury done him. He took his wife
apart, and, feigning a resignation which he did not feel, "My
love," he said, "I loved thee, I love thee still: I thought, too,
that thou wert content with our competence, and wouldst not have
quitted thine husband for any other in the world: I have been
convinced otherwise. A letter from Girard informs me, that with
thine own consent the king, whom thy portrait has pleased, desires
to see thee this very day. It is a misfortune, but we must
submit. Only before thou art established at Versailles, I should
wish thee to dine with me once more. You can invite cousin
Girard, too, for I owe him something for what he has done for thee."
The young wife promised to return and see her husband. That
evening at the performance at the court she was seated in the
same box with the marquise de Laugeac; the king's glass was
directed towards her the whole time, and at the termination of
the spectacle it was announced to her, that she was to sleep at
the chateau the next evening.
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