THE FIRST QUARREL.
La Valliere entered the queen-mother's apartments without in the least
suspecting that a serious plot was being concerted against her. She
thought it was for something connected with her duties, and never had
the queen-mother been unkind to her when such was the case. Besides, not
being immediately under the control or direction of Anne of Austria, she
could only have an official connection with her, to which her own
gentleness of disposition, and the rank of the august princess, made her
yield on every occasion with the best possible grace. She therefore
advanced toward the queen-mother with that soft and gentle smile which,
constituted her principal charm, and as she did not approach
sufficiently close, Anne of Austria signed to her to come nearer. Madame
then entered the room, and with a perfectly calm air took her seat
beside her mother-in-law, and continued the work which Maria-Theresa had
begun. When La Valliere, instead of the directions which she expected to
receive immediately on entering the room, perceived these preparations,
she looked with curiosity, if not with uneasiness, at the two
princesses. Anne seemed full of thought, while Madame maintained an
affectation of indifference which would have alarmed a less timid person
even than Louise.
"Mademoiselle," said the queen-mother suddenly, without attempting to
moderate or disguise her Spanish accent, which she never failed to do
except when she was angry, "come closer; we were talking of you, as
every one else seems to be doing."
"Of me!" exclaimed La Valliere, turning pale.
"Do you pretend to be ignorant of it; are you not aware of the duel
between M. de Guiche and M. de Wardes?"
"Oh, madame! I heard of it yesterday," said La Valliere, clasping her
hands together.
"And did you not foresee this quarrel?"
"Why should I, madame?"
"Because two men never fight without a motive, and because you must be
aware of the motive which awakened the animosity of the two in
question."
"I am perfectly ignorant of it, madame."
"A persevering denial is a very common-place mode of defense, and you,
who have great pretensions to be witty and clever, ought to avoid
common-places. What else have you to say?"
"Oh! madame, your majesty terrifies me with your cold severity of
manner; but I do not understand how I can have incurred your
displeasure, or in what respect people can occupy themselves about me."
"Then I will tell you. M. de Guiche has been obliged to undertake your
defense."
"My defense?"
"Yes. He is a gallant knight, and beautiful adventuresses like to see
brave knights couch their lances in their honor. But, for my part, I
hate fields of battle, and more than all, do I hate adventures,
and--take my remark as you please."
La Valliere sank at the queen's feet, who turned her back upon her. She
stretched out her hands toward Madame, who laughed in her face. A
feeling of pride made her rise to her feet.
"I have begged your majesty to tell me what is the crime I am accused
of--I can claim this at your majesty's hands; and I observe that I am
condemned before I am even permitted to justify myself."
"Eh! indeed," cried Anne of Austria, "listen to her beautiful phrases,
Madame, and to her fine sentiments; she is an inexhaustible well of
tenderness and of heroic expressions. One can easily see, young lady,
that we have cultivated our mind in the society of crowned heads."
La Valliere felt struck to the heart; she became, not paler, but as
white as a lily, and all her strength forsook her.
"I wished to inform you," interrupted the queen disdainfully, "that if
you continue to nourish such feelings, you will humiliate us other women
to such a degree that we shall be ashamed of appearing before you.
Become simple in your manners. By-the-by, I am informed that you are
affianced; is it the case?"
La Valliere pressed her hand over her heart, which was wrung with a
fresh pang.
"Answer when you are spoken to!"
"Yes, madame."
"To a gentleman?"
"Yes, madame."
"His name?"
"The Vicomte de Bragelonne."
"Are you aware that it is an exceedingly fortunate circumstance for you,
mademoiselle, that such is the case? and without fortune or position, as
you are, or without any very great personal advantages, you ought to
bless Heaven for having procured you such a future as seems to be in
store for you."
La Valliere did not reply. "Where is this Vicomte de Bragelonne?"
pursued the queen.
"In England," said Madame, "where the report of this young lady's
success will not fail to reach him."
"Oh, Heaven!" murmured La Valliere, in despair.
"Very well, mademoiselle!" said Anne of Austria, "we will get this young
gentleman to return, and send you away somewhere with him. If you are of
a different opinion--for girls have strange views and fancies at times,
trust to me, I will put you in a proper path again. I have done as much
for girls who are not so good as you are, perhaps."
La Valliere ceased to hear the queen, who pitilessly added, "I will send
you somewhere by yourself, where you will be able to procure a little
serious reflection. Reflection calms the ardor of the blood, and
swallows up all the illusions of youth. I suppose you have understood
what I have been saying?"
"Madame, madame!"
"Not a word!"
"I am innocent of everything your majesty can suppose. Oh! madame! you
are a witness of my despair. I love, I respect your majesty so much!"
"It would be far better not to respect me at all," said the queen, with
a chilling irony of manner. "It would be far better if you were not
innocent. Do you presume to suppose that I should be satisfied simply to
leave you unpunished if you had committed the fault?"
"Oh, madame! you are killing me."
"No acting, if you please, or I will undertake the _dénouement_ of the
comedy; leave the room; return to your own apartment, and I trust my
lesson may be of service to you."
"Madame!" said La Valliere to the Duchesse d'Orleans, whose hands she
seized in her own, "do you, who are so good, intercede for me."
"I!" replied the latter, with an insulting joy, "I--good!--Ah,
mademoiselle, you think nothing of the kind;" and with a rude, hasty
gesture, she repulsed the young girl's hand.
La Valliere, instead of giving way, as from her extreme pallor and from
her tears the two princesses might possibly have expected, suddenly
resumed her calm and dignified air; she bowed profoundly, and left the
room.
"Well!" said Anne of Austria to madame, "do you think she will begin
again?"
"I always suspect those gentle and patient characters," replied Madame.
"Nothing is more full of courage than a patient heart, nothing is more
self-reliant than a gentle spirit."
"I feel I may almost venture to assure you she will think twice before
she looks at the god Mars again."
"So long as she does not obtain the protection of his buckler I do not
care," retorted Madame.
A proud, defiant look of the queen-mother was the reply to this
objection, which was by no means deficient in _finesse_; and both of
them, almost sure of their victory, went to look for Maria-Theresa, who
had been engaged, while awaiting their arrival, in endeavoring to
disguise her impatience.
It was about half-past six in the evening, and the king had just
partaken of some refreshment. He lost no time: but no sooner was the
repast finished, and business matters settled, than he took Saint-Aignan
by the arm, and desired him to lead him to La Valliere's apartments. The
courtier uttered a loud exclamation.
"Well, what is that for? It is a habit you will have to adopt, and in
order to adopt a habit, you must begin by something or another at
first."
"Oh, sire!" said Saint-Aignan, "it is hardly possible, for every one can
be seen entering or leaving those apartments. If, however, some pretext
or other were made use of--if your majesty, for instance, would wait
until Madame were in her own apartments--"
"No pretexts; no delays. I have had enough of these impediments and
these mysteries; I cannot perceive in what respect the king of France
dishonors himself in conversing with an amiable and clever girl. Evil be
to him who evil thinks."
"Will your majesty forgive an excess of zeal on my part?"
"Speak freely."
"And the queen?"
"True, true; I always wish the most entire respect to be shown to her
majesty. Well, then, this evening only will I pay Mademoiselle de la
Valliere a visit, and after to-day I will make use of any pretext you
like. To-morrow we will devise all sorts of means; to-night I have not
the time."
Saint-Aignan did not reply; he descended the steps, preceding the king,
and crossed the different courtyards with a feeling of shame, which the
distinguished honor of accompanying the king did not remove. The reason
was, that Saint-Aignan wished to stand well with Madame, as well as the
two queens; and also, that he did not, on the other hand, wish to
displease Mademoiselle de la Valliere; and in order to carry out so many
promising affairs, it was difficult to avoid jostling against some
obstacle or other. Besides, the windows of the young queen's rooms,
those of the queen-mother's, and of Madame herself, looked out upon the
courtyard of the maids of honor. To be seen, therefore, accompanying the
king, would be effectually to quarrel with three great and influential
princesses--with three women whose authority was unbounded--for the
purpose of supporting the ephemeral credit of a mistress. The unhappy
Saint-Aignan, who had not displayed a very great amount of courage in
taking La Valliere's part in the park of Fontainebleau, did not feel
himself any braver in the broad daylight, and found a thousand defects
in the poor girl which he was most eager to communicate to the king. But
his trial soon finished--the courtyards were crossed; not a curtain was
drawn aside, nor a window opened. The king walked hastily, because of
his impatience, and then also because of the long legs of Saint-Aignan,
who preceded him. At the door, however, Saint-Aignan wished to retire,
but the king desired him to remain: this was a delicate consideration on
the king's part, which the courtier could very well have dispensed with.
He had to follow Louis into La Valliere's apartment. As soon as the king
arrived, the young girl dried her tears, but did it so precipitately
that the king perceived it. He questioned her most anxiously and
tenderly, and pressed her to tell him the cause of her emotion.
"I have nothing the matter with me, sire," she said.
"And yet you were weeping."
"Oh, no, indeed, sire."
"Look, Saint-Aignan, and tell me if I am mistaken."
Saint-Aignan ought to have answered, but he was greatly embarrassed.
"At all events, your eyes are red, mademoiselle," said the king.
"The dust of the road merely, sire."
"No, no; you no longer possess that air of supreme contentment which
renders you so beautiful and so attractive. You do not look at me. Why
avoid my gaze?" he said, as she turned aside her head. "In Heaven's
name, what is the matter?" he inquired, beginning to lose all command
over himself.
"Nothing at all, sire; and I am perfectly ready to assure your majesty
that my mind is as free from anxiety as you could possibly wish."
"Your mind at ease, when I see you are embarrassed at the slightest
thing. Has any one wounded or annoyed you?"
"No, no, sire."
"I insist upon knowing if such really be the case," said the young
prince, his eyes sparkling.
"No one, sire, no one has in any way offended me."
"In that case, do resume your gentle air of gayety, or that sweet
melancholy look which I so loved in you this morning; for pity's sake,
do so."
"Yes, sire, yes."
The king struck the ground impatiently with his foot, saying, "Such a
change is positively inexplicable." And he looked at Saint-Aignan, who
had also remarked La Valliere's heavy languor of manner, as well as the
king's impatience.
It was utterly useless for the king to entreat, and as useless for him
to try his utmost to overcome her positiveness, which was but too
apparent, and did not in reality exist; the poor girl was completely
overwhelmed--the aspect of death itself could not have awakened her from
her torpor. The king saw in her repeated negative replies a mystery full
of unkindness; he began to look all round the apartment with a
suspicious air. There happened to be in La Valliere's room a miniature
of Athos. The king remarked this portrait, which bore a considerable
resemblance to Bragelonne, for it had been taken when the comte was
quite a young man. He looked at it with a threatening air. La Valliere,
in her depressed state of mind, and very far indeed from thinking of
this portrait, could not conjecture the king's preoccupation. And yet
the king's mind was occupied with a terrible remembrance, which had more
than once taken possession of his mind, but which he had always driven
away. He recalled the intimacy which had existed between the two young
people from their birth; the engagement which had followed; and that
Athos had himself come to solicit La Valliere's hand for Raoul. He
therefore could not but suppose that, on her return to Paris, La
Valliere had found news from London awaiting her, and that this news had
counterbalanced the influence which he had been enabled to exert over
her. He immediately felt himself stung, as it were, by feelings of the
wildest jealousy; and he again questioned her, with increased
bitterness. La Valliere could not reply, unless she were to acknowledge
everything, which would be to accuse the queen, and Madame also; and the
consequence would be, that she would have to enter upon an open warfare
with these two great and powerful princesses. She thought within herself
that as she made no attempt to conceal from the king what was passing in
her own mind, the king ought to be able to read in her heart, in spite
of her silence; and that, if he really loved her, he would have
understood and guessed everything. What was sympathy, then, if it were
not that divine flame which possesses the property of enlightening the
heart, and of saving lovers the necessity of an expression of their
thoughts and feelings. She maintained her silence, therefore, satisfying
herself with sighing, weeping, and concealing her face in her hands.
These sighs and tears, which had at first distressed, and then
terrified, Louis XIV., now irritated him. He could not bear any
opposition--not the opposition which tears and sighs exhibited, any more
than opposition of any other kind. His remarks, therefore, became
bitter, urgent, and openly aggressive in their nature. This was a fresh
cause of distress for the poor girl. From that very circumstance,
therefore, which she regarded as an injustice on her lover's part, she
drew sufficient courage to bear, not only her other troubles, but even
this one also.
The king next began to accuse her in direct terms. La Valliere did not
even attempt to defend herself; she endured all his accusations without
according any other reply than that of shaking her head; without making
any other remark than that which escapes every heart in deep distress,
by a prayerful appeal to Heaven for help. But this ejaculation, instead
of calming the king's displeasure, rather increased it. He, moreover,
saw himself seconded by Saint-Aignan, for Saint-Aignan, as we have
observed, having seen the storm increasing, and not knowing the extent
of the regard of which Louis XIV. was capable, felt, by anticipation,
all the collected wrath of the three princesses, and the near approach
of poor La Valliere's downfall; and he was not true knight enough to
resist the fear that he himself might possibly be dragged down in the
impending ruin. Saint-Aignan did not reply to the king's questions
except by short, dry remarks, pronounced half-aloud; and by abrupt
gestures, whose object was to make things worse, and bring about a
misunderstanding, the result of which would be to free him from the
annoyance of having to cross the courtyards in broad open day, in order
to follow his illustrious companion to La Valliere's apartments. In the
meantime the king's anger momentarily increased; he made two or three
steps toward the door, as if to leave the room, but then returned; the
young girl did not, however, raise her head, although the sound of his
footsteps might have warned her that her lover was leaving her. He drew
himself up, for a moment, before her, with his arms crossed.
"For the last time, mademoiselle," he said, "will you speak? Will you
assign a reason for this change, for this fickleness, for this caprice?"
"What can I say?" murmured La Valliere. "Do you not see, sire, that I am
completely overwhelmed at this moment; that I have no power of will, or
thought, or speech?"
"Is it so difficult, then, to speak the truth? You would have told me
the truth in fewer words than those in which you have just now expressed
yourself."
"But the truth about what, sire?"
"About everything."
La Valliere was just on the point of revealing the whole truth to the
king; her arms made a sudden movement as if they were about to open, but
her lips remained silent, and her arms again fell listlessly by her
side. The poor girl had not yet endured sufficient unhappiness to risk
the necessary revelation. "I know nothing," she stammered out.
"Oh!" exclaimed the king, "this is no longer mere coquetry, or caprice,
it is treason."
And this time nothing could restrain him; the impulses of his heart were
not sufficient to induce him to turn back, and he darted out of the room
with a gesture full of despair. Saint-Aignan followed him, wishing for
nothing better than to leave the place.
Louis XIV. did not pause until he reached the staircase, and grasping
the balustrade, said: "You see how shamefully I have been duped."
"How, sire?" inquired the favorite.
"Guiche fought on the Vicomte de Bragelonne's account, and this
Bragelonne ... oh! Saint-Aignan, she still loves him. I vow to you,
Saint-Aignan, that, if in three day's hence, there were to remain but an
atom of affection for her in my heart, I should die from very shame."
And the king resumed his way to his own apartments.
"I assured your majesty how it would be," murmured Saint-Aignan,
continuing to follow the king, and timidly glancing up at the different
windows. Unfortunately their return was different to what their
departure had been. A curtain was stealthily drawn aside; Madame was
behind it. She had seen the king leave the apartments of the maids of
honor, and as soon as she observed that his majesty had passed, she left
her own apartments with hurried steps, and ran up the staircase, which
led to the room the king had just left.