MONTALAIS AND MALICORNE.
Montalais was right. M. de Guiche, summoned in every direction, was very
much exposed, even from the multiplication of matters, to the risk of
not answering in any one direction. It so happened that, considering the
awkwardness of the interruption, Madame, notwithstanding her wounded
pride, and her secret anger, could not, for the moment at least,
reproach Montalais for having violated, in so bold a manner, the
semi-royal order with which she had been dismissed on Guiche's
entrance. Guiche, also, lost his presence of mind, or, it would be
better to say, that he had already lost it before Montalais's arrival;
for, scarcely had he heard the young girl's voice, than, without taking
leave of Madame, as the most ordinary politeness required, even between
persons equal in rank and station, he fled from her presence, his heart
tumultuously throbbing, and his brain on fire, leaving the princess with
one hand raised, as though about to bid him adieu. Montalais was at no
loss, therefore, to perceive the agitation of the two lovers--the one
who fled was agitated, and the one who remained was equally so.
"So, so," murmured the young girl, as she glanced inquisitively round
her, "this time, at least, I think I know as much as the most curious
woman could possibly wish to know." Madame felt so embarrassed by this
inquisitorial look, that, as if she had heard Montalais's muttered
side-remark, she did not speak a word to her maid of honor, but, casting
down her eyes, retired at once to her bedroom. Montalais, observing
this, stood listening for a moment, and then heard Madame lock and bolt
her door. By this, she knew that the rest of the evening was at her own
disposal; and making behind the door which had just been closed, a
gesture which indicated but little real respect for the princess, she
went down the staircase in search of Malicorne, who was very busily
engaged at that moment in watching a courier, who, covered with dust,
had just left the Comte de Guiche's apartments. Montalais knew that
Malicorne was engaged in a matter of some importance; she therefore
allowed him to look and stretch out his neck as much as he pleased; and
it was only when Malicorne had resumed his natural position that she
touched him on the shoulder.
"Well," said Montalais, "what is the latest intelligence you have?"
"M. de Guiche is in love with Madame."
"Fine news truly! I know something more recent than that."
"Well, what do you know?"
"That Madame is in love with M. de Guiche."
"The one is the consequence of the other."
"Not always, my good monsieur."
"Is that remark intended for me?"
"Present company are always excepted."
"Thank you," said Malicorne. "Well, and in the other direction, what is
there fresh?"
"The king wished, this evening, after the lottery, to see Mademoiselle
de la Valliere."
"Well, and he has seen her?"
"No, indeed."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The door was shut and locked."
"So that--"
"So that the king was obliged to go back again, looking very sheepish,
like a thief who has forgotten his implements."
"Good."
"And in the third direction," inquired Montalais.
"The courier who has just arrived for De Guiche came from M. de
Bragelonne."
"Excellent," said Montalais, clapping her hands together.
"Why so?"
"Because we have work to do. If we get weary now, something unfortunate
will be sure to happen."
"We must divide the work then," said Malicorne, "in order to avoid
confusion."
"Nothing easier," replied Montalais. "Three intrigues, carefully nursed,
and carefully encouraged, will produce, one with another, and taking a
low average, three love-letters a day."
"Oh!" exclaimed Malicorne, shrugging his shoulders, "you cannot mean
what you say, darling; three letters a day, that may do for sentimental
common people. A musketeer on duty, a young girl in a convent, may
exchange letters with their lovers once a day, perhaps, from the top of
a ladder, or through a hole in the wall. A letter contains all the
poetry their poor little hearts have to boast of. But the cases we have
in hand require to be dealt with very differently."
"Well, finish," said Montalais, out of patience with him. "Some one may
come."
"Finish! Why, I am only at the beginning. I have still three points as
yet untouched."
"Upon my word, he will be the death of me, with his Flemish
indifference," exclaimed Montalais.
"And you will drive me mad with your Italian vivacity. I was going to
say that our lovers here will be writing volumes to each other. But what
are you driving at?"
"At this: Not one of our lady correspondents will be able to keep the
letters they may receive."
"Very likely not."
"M. de Guiche will not be able to keep his either."
"That is probable."
"Very well, then: I will take care of all that."
"That is the very thing which is impossible," said Malicorne.
"Why so?"
"Because you are not your own mistress: your room is as much La
Valliere's as yours; and there are certain persons who will think
nothing of visiting and searching a maid of honor's room; so that I am
terribly afraid of the queen, who is as jealous as a Spaniard; of the
queen-mother, who is as jealous as a couple of Spaniards; and, last of
all, of Madame herself, who has jealousy enough for ten Spaniards."
"You forget some one else?"
"Who?"--"Monsieur."
"I was only speaking of the women. Let us add them up, then: we will
call Monsieur, No. 1."
"Guiche?"
"No. 2."
"The Vicomte de Bragelonne?"
"No. 3."
"And the king, the king?"
"No. 4. Of course the king, who not only will be more jealous, but still
more powerful than all the rest put together. Ah, my dear!"
"Well?"
"Into what a wasp's nest you have thrust yourself!"
"And as yet not quite far enough, if you will follow me into it."
"Most certainly I will follow you where you like. Yet--"
"Well, yet--"
"While we have time enough left, I think it will be more prudent to turn
back."
"But I, on the contrary, think the most prudent course to take is to put
ourselves at once at the head of all these intrigues."
"You will never be able to do it."
"With you, I could carry on ten of them. I am in my element, you must
know. I was born to live at the court, as the salamander is made to live
in the fire."
"Your comparison does not reassure me in the slightest degree in the
world, my dear Montalais. I have heard it said, and by very learned men,
too, that, in the first place, there are no salamanders at all, and
that, if there had been any, they would have been perfectly baked or
roasted on leaving the fire."
"Your learned men may be very wise as far as salamanders are concerned,
but your learned men would never tell you what I can tell you; namely,
that Aure de Montalais is destined, before a month is over, to become
the first diplomatic genius in the court of France."
"Be it so; but on condition that I shall be the second."
"Agreed; an offensive and defensive alliance, of course."
"Only be very careful of any letters."
"I will hand them to you as I receive them."
"What shall we tell the king about Madame?"
"That Madame is still in love with his majesty."
"What shall we tell Madame about the king?"
"That she would be exceedingly wrong not to humor him."
"What shall we tell La Valliere about Madame?"
"Whatever we choose, for La Valliere is in our power."
"How so?"
"In two ways."
"What do you mean?"
"In the first place, through the Vicomte de Bragelonne."
"Explain yourself?"
"You do not forget, I hope, that Monsieur de Bragelonne has written many
letters to Mademoiselle de la Valliere?"
"I forget nothing."
"Well, then, it was I who received, and I who kept, those letters."
"And, consequently, it is you who have them still?"
"Yes."
"Where--here?"
"Oh, no: I have them safe at Blois, in the little room you know well
enough."
"That dear little room--that darling little room, the antechamber of the
palace I intend you to live in one of these days. But I beg your pardon,
you said that all those letters are in that little room?"
"Yes."
"Did you not put them in a box?"
"Of course; in the same box where I put all the letters I received from
you, and where I put mine also when your business or your amusements
prevented you from coming to our rendezvous."
"Ah, very good," said Malicorne.
"Why are you so satisfied?"
"Because I see there is a possibility of not having to run to Blois
after the letters, for I have them here."
"You have brought the box away?"
"It was very dear to me, because it belonged to you."
"Be sure and take care of it, for it contains original documents which
will be of very great value by-and-by."
"I am perfectly well aware of that indeed, and that is the very reason
why I laugh as I do, and with all my heart too."
"And now, one last word."
"Why the last?"
"Do we need any one to assist us?"
"No one at all."
"Valets or maid-servants?"
"Bad--detestable. You will give the letters--you will receive them. Oh!
we must have no pride in this affair, otherwise M. Malicorne and
Mademoiselle Aure, not transacting their own affairs themselves, will
have to make up their minds to see them done by others."
"You are quite right; but what is going on yonder in M. de Guiche's
room?"
"Nothing: he is only opening his window."
"Let us be gone." And they both immediately disappeared, all the terms
of the compact having been agreed upon.
The window, which had just been opened, was, in fact, that of the Comte
de Guiche. But it was not alone with the hope of catching a glimpse of
Madame through her curtains that he seated himself by the open window,
for his preoccupation of mind had at that time a different origin. He
had just received, as we have already stated, the courier who had been
dispatched to him by Bragelonne, the latter having written to De Guiche
a letter which had made the deepest impression upon him, and which he
had read over and over again. "Strange, strange!" he murmured. "How
powerful are the means by which destiny hurries men on toward their
fate!" Leaving the window in order to approach nearer to the light, he
again read over the letter he had just received:
"Calais.
"MY DEAR COUNT--I found M. de Wardes at Calais; he has
been seriously wounded in an affair with the Duke of Buckingham. De
Wardes is, as you know, unquestionably brave, but full of
malevolent and wicked feelings. He conversed with me about
yourself, for whom, he says, he has a warm regard; and also about
Madame, whom he considers a beautiful and amiable woman. He has
guessed your affection for a certain person. He also talked to me
about the person for whom I have so ardent a regard, and showed the
greatest interest on my behalf in expressing a deep pity for me,
accompanied, however, by dark hints which alarmed me at first, but
which I at last looked upon as the result of his usual love of
mystery. These are the facts: He had received news of the court;
you will understand, however, that it was only through M. de
Lorraine. The report is, so says the news, that a change has taken
place in the king's affections. You know whom that concerns.
Afterward, the news continues, people are talking about one of the
maids of honor, respecting whom various slanderous reports are
being circulated. These vague phrases have not allowed me to sleep.
I have been deploring, ever since yesterday, that my diffidence and
vacillation of purpose should, notwithstanding a certain obstinacy
of character I may possess, have left me unable to reply to these
insinuations. In a word, therefore, M. de Wardes was setting off
for Paris, and I did not delay his departure with explanations;
for it seemed rather hard, I confess, to cross-examine a man whose
wounds are hardly yet closed. In short, he traveled by short
stages, as he was anxious to leave, he said, in order to be present
at a curious spectacle which the court cannot fail to offer within
a very short time. He added a few congratulatory words, accompanied
by certain sympathizing expressions. I could not understand the one
any more than the other; I was bewildered by my own thoughts, and
then tormented by a mistrust of this man--a mistrust which, you
know better than anyone else, I have never been able to overcome.
As soon as he left, my perception seemed to become clearer. It is
hardly possible that a man of De Wardes' character should not have
communicated something of his own malicious nature to the
statements he made to me. It is not unlikely, therefore, that in
the mysterious hints which De Wardes threw out in my presence,
there may not be a mysterious signification, which I might have
some difficulty in applying either to myself or to some one with
whom you are acquainted. Being compelled to leave as soon as
possible, in obedience to the king's commands, the idea did not
occur to me of running after De Wardes in order to ask him to
explain his reserve, but I have dispatched a courier to you with
this letter, which will explain in detail all my various doubts. I
regard you as myself. It is you who have thought, and it will be
for you to act. M. de Wardes will arrive very shortly; endeavor to
learn what he meant, if you do not already know it. M. de Wardes,
moreover, pretended that the Duke of Buckingham left Paris on the
very best of terms with Madame. This was an affair which would have
unhesitatingly made me draw my sword, had I not felt that I was
under the necessity of dispatching the king's mission before
undertaking any quarrel. Burn this letter, which Olivain will hand
you. Whatever Olivain says you may confidently rely upon. Will you
have the goodness, my dear comte, to recall me to the remembrance
of Mademoiselle de la Valliere, whose hand I kiss with the greatest
respect.
"Your devoted,
"DE BRAGELONNE.
"P. S.--If anything serious should happen--we should be prepared for
everything--dispatch a courier to me with this one single word,
'Come,' and I shall be in Paris within six-and-thirty hours after I
shall have received your letter."
De Guiche sighed, folded the letter up a third time, and instead of
burning it, as Raoul had recommended him to do, placed it in his pocket.
He felt that he needed to read it over and over again.
"How much distress of mind, and yet how great a confidence, he shows!"
murmured the comte. "He has poured out his whole soul in that letter. He
says nothing of the Comte de la Fere, and speaks of his respect for
Louise. He cautions me on my account, and entreats me on his own. Ah!"
continued De Guiche, with a threatening gesture, "you interfere in my
affairs, Monsieur de Wardes, do you? Very well, then; I shall now occupy
myself with yours. And for you, poor Raoul--you who intrust your heart
to my keeping--be assured I will watch over it."
With this promise, De Guiche begged Malicorne to come immediately to his
apartments, if it were possible. Malicorne acknowledged the invitation
with an activity which was the first result of his conversation with
Montalais. And while De Guiche, who thought that his motive was
undiscovered, cross-examined Malicorne, the latter, who appeared to be
working in the dark, soon guessed his questioner's motives. The
consequence was that, after a quarter of an hour's conversation, during
which De Guiche thought he had ascertained the whole truth with regard
to La Valliere and the king, he had learned absolutely nothing more than
his own eyes had already acquainted him with; while Malicorne learned or
guessed that Raoul, who was absent, was fast becoming suspicious, and
that De Guiche intended to watch over the treasure of the Hesperides.
Malicorne accepted the office of dragon. De Guiche fancied he had done
everything for his friend, and soon began to think of nothing but his
own personal affairs. The next evening, De Wardes' return and his first
appearance at the king's reception were announced. When that visit had
been paid, the convalescent waited on Monsieur--De Guiche taking care,
however, to be at Monsieur's apartments before the visit took place.