THE PORTRAIT.
In that malady which is termed love the paroxysms succeed each other at
intervals, always more rapid from the moment the disease declares
itself. By-and-by, the paroxysms are less frequent, in proportion as the
curet approaches. This being laid down as a general axiom, and as the
heading of a particular chapter, we will now proceed with our recital.
The next day, the day fixed by the king for the first conversation in
Saint-Aignan's room, La Valliere, on opening one of the folds of the
screen, found upon the floor a letter in the king's handwriting. The
letter had been passed, through a slit in the floor, from the lower
apartment to her own. No indiscreet hand or curious gaze could have
brought or did bring this simple paper. This was one of Malicorne's
ideas. Having seen how very serviceable Saint-Aignan would become to the
king on account of his apartment, he did not wish that the courtier
should become still more indispensable as a messenger, and so he had, on
his own private account, reserved this last post for himself. La
Valliere most eagerly read the letter, which fixed two o'clock that same
afternoon for the rendezvous, and which indicated the way of raising the
trap-door which was constructed out of the flooring. "Make yourself look
as beautiful as possible," added the postscript of the letter, words
which astonished the young girl, but at the same time reassured her. The
hours passed away very slowly, but the time fixed, however, arrived at
last. As punctual as the priestess Hero, Louise lifted up the trap-door
at the last stroke of the hour of two, and found the king upon the top
steps, waiting for her with the greatest respect, in order to give her
his hand to descend. The delicacy and deference shown in this attention
affected her very powerfully. At the foot of the staircase the two
lovers found the comte, who, with a smile and a low reverence
distinguished by the best taste, expressed his thanks to La Valliere for
the honor she conferred upon him. Then, turning toward the king, he
said:
"Sire, our man is here." La Valliere looked at the king with some
uneasiness.
"Mademoiselle," said the king, "if I have begged you to do me the honor
of coming down here, it was from an interested motive. I have procured a
most admirable portrait-painter, who is celebrated for the fidelity of
his likenesses, and I wish you to be kind enough to authorize him to
paint yours. Besides, if you positively wish it, the portrait shall
remain in your own possession." La Valliere blushed.
"You see," said the king to her, "we shall not be three as you wished,
but four instead. And, so long as we are not alone, there can be as many
present as you please." La Valliere gently pressed her royal lover's
hand.
"Shall we pass into the next room, sire?" said Saint-Aignan, opening the
door to let his guests precede him. The king walked behind La Valliere,
and fixed his eyes lingeringly and passionately upon her neck as white
as snow, upon which her long fair ringlets fell in heavy masses. La
Valliere was dressed in a thick silk robe of pearl gray color, with a
tinge of rose, with jet ornaments, which displayed to greater effect the
dazzling purity of her skin, holding in her slender and transparent
hands a bouquet of heartsease, Bengal roses, and clematis, surrounded
with leaves of the tenderest green, above which uprose, like a tiny
goblet shedding perfumes, a Haarlem tulip of gray and violet tints, of a
pure and beautiful species, which had cost the gardener five years' toil
of combinations and the king five thousand francs. Louis had placed this
bouquet in La Valliere's hand as he saluted her. In the room, the door
of which Saint-Aignan had just opened, a young man was standing, dressed
in a loose velvet coat, with beautiful black eyes and long brown hair.
It was the painter; his canvas was quite ready, and his palette prepared
for use. He bowed to La Valliere with that grave curiosity of an artist
who is studying his model, saluted the king discreetly, as if he did not
recognize him, and as he would, consequently, have saluted any other
gentleman. Then, leading Mademoiselle de la Valliere to the seat which
he had arranged for her, he begged her to sit down. The young girl
assumed an attitude graceful and unrestrained, her hands occupied, and
her limbs reclining on cushions; and in order that her gaze might not
assume a vague or affected expression, the painter begged her to choose
some kind of occupation, so as to engage her attention; whereupon, Louis
XIV., smiling, sat down on the cushions at La Valliere's feet; so that
she, in the reclining posture she had assumed, leaning back in the
armchair, holding her flowers in her hand, and he, with his eyes raised
toward her and fixed devouringly on her face--they, both together,
formed so charming a group, that the artist contemplated it with
professional delight; while, on his side, Saint-Aignan regarded them
with feelings of envy. The painter sketched rapidly; and very soon,
beneath the earliest touches of the brush, there started into life, out
of the gray background, the gentle, poetry-breathing face, with its soft
calm eyes and delicately-tinted cheeks, enframed in the masses of hair
which fell about her neck. The lovers, however, spoke but little, and
looked at each other a good deal; sometimes their eyes became so
languishing in their gaze, that the painter was obliged to interrupt his
work in order to avoid representing an Erycina instead of a La Valliere.
It was on such occasions that Saint-Aignan came to the rescue, and
recited verses, or repeated one of those little tales as Patru related
them, and which Tallemant des Reaux wrote so cleverly. Or, it might be,
that La Valliere was fatigued, and the sitting was, therefore, suspended
for awhile; and, immediately, a tray of precious porcelain, laden with
the most beautiful fruits which could be obtained, and rich wines
distilling their bright colors in silver goblets beautifully chased,
served as accessories to the picture of which the painter could but
retrace the most ephemeral resemblance. Louis was intoxicated with love,
La Valliere with happiness, Saint-Aignan with ambition, and the painter
was storing up recollections for his old age. Two hours passed away in
this manner, and four o'clock having struck, La Valliere rose and made a
sign to the king. Louis also rose, approached the picture, and addressed
a few flattering remarks to the painter. Saint-Aignan also praised the
picture, which, as he pretended, was already beginning to assume an
accurate resemblance. La Valliere, in her turn, blushingly, thanked the
painter, and passed into the next room, where the king followed her
after having previously summoned Saint-Aignan.
"Will you not come to-morrow?" he said to La Valliere.
"Oh! sire, pray think that some one will be sure to come to my room, and
will not find me there."
"Well!"
"What will become of me in that case?"
"You are very apprehensive, Louise."
"But, at all events, suppose Madame were to send for me."
"Oh!" replied the king, "will the day never come when you yourself will
tell me to brave everything, so that I may not have to leave you again."
"On that day, then, sire, I shall be quite out of my mind, and you ought
not to believe me."
"To-morrow, Louise."
La Valliere sighed, but, without the courage to oppose her royal lover's
wish, she repeated, "To-morrow, then, since you desire it, sire;" and
with these words she ran up the stairs lightly, and disappeared from her
lover's gaze.
"Well, sire?" inquired Saint-Aignan, when she had left.
"Well, Saint-Aignan; yesterday I thought myself the happiest of men."
"And does your majesty, then, regard yourself to-day," said the comte,
smiling, "as the unhappiest of men?"
"No; but my love for her is an unquenchable thirst; in vain do I drink,
in vain do I swallow the drops of water which your industry procures for
me; the more I drink the more unquenchable is my thirst."
"Sire, that is in some degree your own fault, and your majesty alone has
made the position such as it is."
"You are right."
"In that case, therefore, the means to be happiness is to fancy yourself
satisfied, and to wait."
"Wait! you know that word, then?"
"There, there, sire--do not despair; I have already been at work on your
behalf--I have still other resources in store." The king shook his head
in a despairing manner.
"What, sire! have you not been satisfied hitherto?"
"Oh! yes, indeed yes, my dear Saint-Aignan; but find, for Heaven's sake,
find some further means yet."
"Sire, I undertake to do my best, and that is all I can do."
The king wished to see the portrait again, as he was unable to see the
original. He pointed out several alterations to the painter, and left
the room, and then Saint-Aignan dismissed the artist. The easel, paints,
and painter himself had scarcely gone, when Malicorne showed his head at
the doorway. He was received by Saint-Aignan with open arms, but still
with a little sadness, for the cloud which had passed across the royal
sun, veiled, in its turn, the faithful satellite, and Malicorne at a
glance perceived the melancholy look which was visible upon
Saint-Aignan's face.
"Oh, Monsieur le Comte," he said, "how sad you seem!"
"And good reason, too, my dear Monsieur Malicorne. Will you believe that
the king is not satisfied?"
"Not satisfied with his staircase, do you mean?"
"Oh, no; on the contrary, he is delighted with the staircase."
"The decorations of the apartments, I suppose, don't please him?"
"Oh! he has not even thought of that. No, indeed, it seems that what has
dissatisfied the king--"
"I will tell you, Monsieur le Comte--he is dissatisfied at finding
himself the fourth person at a rendezvous of this kind. How is it
possible you could not have guessed that?"
"Why, how is it likely I could have done so, dear M. Malicorne, when I
followed the king's instructions to the very letter?"
"Did his majesty really insist upon your being present?"
"Positively so."
"And also required that the painter whom I met downstairs just now
should be here too?"
"He insisted upon it."
"In that case I can easily understand why his majesty is dissatisfied."
"What! dissatisfied that I have so punctually and literally obeyed his
orders? I don't understand you."
Malicorne began to scratch his ear as he asked, "What time did the king
fix for the rendezvous in your apartment?"
"Two o'clock."
"And you were waiting for the king?"
"Ever since half-past one; for it would have been a fine thing indeed
to have been unpunctual with his majesty."
Malicorne, notwithstanding his respect for Saint-Aignan, could not
resist shrugging his shoulders. "And the painter," he said, "did the
king wish him to be here at two o'clock also?"
"No; but I had him waiting here from mid-day. Far better, you know, for
a painter to be kept waiting a couple of hours than the king a single
minute."
Malicorne began to laugh to himself. "Come, dear Monsieur Malicorne,"
said Saint-Aignan, "laugh less at me, and speak a little more freely, I
beg."
"Well, then, Monsieur le Comte, if you wish the king to be a little more
satisfied the next time he comes--"
"Ventre saint-gris! as his grandfather used to say; of course I wish
it."
"Well, all you have to do is, when the king comes to-morrow, to be
obliged to go away on a most pressing matter of business, which cannot
possibly be postponed, and stay away for twenty minutes."
"What! leave the king alone for twenty minutes?" cried Saint-Aignan, in
alarm.
"Very well, do as you like; don't pay any attention to what I say," said
Malicorne, moving toward the door.
"Nay, nay, dear Monsieur Malicorne; on the contrary, go on--I begin to
understand you. But the painter--"
"Oh! the painter must be half an hour late."
"Half an hour--do you really think so?"
"Yes. I do, decidedly."
"Very well, then, I will do as you tell me."
"And my opinion is, that you will be doing perfectly right. Will you
allow me to come and inquire to-morrow a little?"
"Of course."
"I have the honor to be your most respectful servant, M. de
Saint-Aignan," said Malicorne, bowing profoundly, and retiring from the
room backward.
"There is no doubt that fellow has more invention than I have," said
Saint-Aignan, as if compelled by his conviction to admit it.