The Refugees by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — Read

For nearly a week the king was constant to his new humour. The routine / of his life remained unchanged, save that it was the room of the frail / beauty, rather than of Madame de Maintenon, which attracted him in the / afternoon. And in sympathy with this sudden relapse into his old life, / his coats lost something of their sombre hue, and fawn-colour, / buff-colour, and lilac began to replace the blacks and the blues. / A little gold lace budded out upon his hats also and at the trimmings of / his pockets, while for three days on end his _prie-dieu_ at the royal / chapel had been unoccupied. His walk was brisker, and he gave a / youthful flourish to his cane as a defiance to those who had seen in his / reformation the first symptoms of age. Madame had known her man well / when she threw out that artful insinuation.

And as the king brightened, so all the great court brightened too. / The _salons_ began to resume their former splendour, and gay coats and / glittering embroidery which had lain in drawers for years were seen once / more in the halls of the palace. In the chapel, Bourdaloue preached in / vain to empty benches, but a ballet in the grounds was attended by the / whole court, and received with a frenzy of enthusiasm. The Montespan / ante-room was crowded every morning with men and women who had some suit / to be urged, while her rival's chambers were as deserted as they had / been before the king first turned a gracious look upon her. Faces which / had been long banished the court began to reappear in the corridors and / gardens unchecked and unrebuked, while the black cassock of the Jesuit / and the purple soutane of the bishop were less frequent colours in the / royal circle.