THE FOES.
Great was the astonishment of the household of Louvois, when,
hastening to do honor to the liveries of the royal house of Orleans,
they saw emerging from the coach Prince Eugene of Savoy.
"Announce me to Monsieur Louvois," said he.
The message passed from vestibule to corridor, from corridor to
staircase, and finally reached the antechamber of the minister's
private cabinet. In a short while, the answer was forthcoming.
"His excellency begged to decline the visit of his highness the
Prince of Savoy. He was particularly engaged."
"He is at home," replied the prince; "then I shall certainly alight,
for I must and will see him."
So he entered the house, and traversed the vestibule. The lackeys
made no effort to stop him, for he looked dangerous; but they were
certainly astounded at his boldness, who forced himself into the
presence of the minister, when he had declined the proffered visit.
Eugene, disregarding their amazed looks, asked the way to the
cabinet, and no one ventured to refuse. So he was passed from lackey
to lackey, until he reached the antechamber. "Here," said the
servant that had accompanied him, "here your highness will find a
person to announce you."
Eugene bowed his head, and entered. The "person" was certainly
within; but in lieu of announcing the prince, he stared at him in
speechless astonishment.
Eugene paid no attention to him, but moved toward the door leading
to the prime minister's cabinet. When the valet saw this, he flew
across the room to stop the intruder, and, placing himself directly
in his way, he bowed and said, "Pardon me, your highness. You must
have been misinformed. His excellency regrets that he cannot receive
your highness's visit to-day. He is particularly engaged."
"I have no visit to make to his excellency," replied the prince
without embarrassment. "I am the envoy of her royal highness the
Duchess of Orleans. Announce me as such."
The valet soon returned, and, holding up the portiere so as to admit
Eugene, he said, "His excellency will receive the envoy of her royal
highness the Duchess of Orleans."
Louvois was standing near a writing-table, from which he appeared at
that moment to have risen. His right hand rested on a book, and he
stood stiff and erect, awaiting an inclination from Eugene, to bend
his head in return. But the prince advanced so proudly that Louvois
involuntarily made a step toward him, and then recollecting himself,
stood still and frowned visibly.
"You came under false colors to claim an audience from me, prince,"
said he. "As you found (indeed, you should have known) that I would
not receive you in your own name, you borrowed that of her royal
highness; taking advantage of the respect due madame, to force
yourself into my presence. What is your business?"
"In supposing that I have used her royal highness's name to force
myself upon you, you are mistaken," replied Eugene, calmly. "If you
will take the trouble to look out of yonder window, you will see
that I came hither in her highness's own coach."
Louvois stepped to the window, looked out, and, affecting
astonishment, exclaimed, "True enough; there are the royal liveries,
and you have told the truth. You really must excuse me."
"I do excuse you; for I do not consider that one bearing the name of
Louvois is in a position to affront me by doubting my word."
"Lucky for you," returned Louvois, with his sinister laugh; "for
there is not likely to be much harmony between the two families. And
now to business. What message do you bear from madame?"
"Her royal highness informs Monsieur de Louvois that on yesterday
night, the Marchioness de Bonaletta disappeared from her pavilion in
the Palais Royal. As Monsieur de Louvois is well posted in all that
takes place in or about Paris, her royal highness is convinced that
he is no stranger to this occurrence, and she requires that her lady
of the bedchamber be returned to her, or she be directed where to
find her."
"Is that all?" asked Louvois, after a pause.
"That is all that I have to say for the Duchess of Orleans."
"You are so very emphatic that I infer you have something else to
say, after all. Am I right?"
"You are."
"Well, you may speak. But first, allow me to ask how you happen to
be her highness's messenger? Was it by way of sympathizing with the
Marchioness de Bonaletta, that you took service with her mistress?"
"My lord prime minister," returned Eugene, proudly, "I serve myself
and the requirements of my honor only."
"Ah, indeed! And does this respectable lady pay you well?"
"She bestows upon me wherewith to pay those who venture to attack
her name."
"Ha! ha! Then you must have heavy payments to make, not for yourself
only, but for your mother."
Eugene clinched his fist, and made a motion toward his cruel enemy,
but Louvois calmly raised his hand.
"Peace, young man," said he; "the hour for reckoning has not
arrived. I respect, in you, the representative of madame, and you
shall depart from my house uninjured, today. Take advantage, then,
of your opportunity; say all that you have to say, and spare
yourself the trouble of sending me your petitions by writing."
"I have no petitions to make to you, oral or written. I came hither
to claim for her royal mistress the Marchioness de Bonaletta, your
daughter."
"And I repeat my question. How came you to be the chosen ambassador
of her royal highness, on this strictly private affair between
herself and me?"
"I was chosen," replied Eugene, breathing hard and growing pale,
"because I love the marchioness."
Louvois laughed aloud. "You love my daughter, do you? I admire the
sagacity which directs your love toward the daughter of the prime
minister of France, and the richest heiress within its boundaries. I
congratulate you upon your choice."
"Yes," repeated Eugene, "I love her, although she is your daughter.
And so dearly do I love her that, for her dear sake, I submit to be
affronted by my mother's traducer, because that traducer is the
father of my Laura. As regards your absurd insinuations respecting
her wealth, they pass by me as the 'idle wind which I respect not.'
And now, that I have satisfied your curiosity, be so good as to
answer me. The Duchess of Orleans wishes to know where is her lady
of the bedchamber: Eugene of Savoy demands his bride."
"Demands his bride? This is too presuming! But I must be patient
with the representative of madame. Know, then, ambitious manikin,
that, with a father's right to save his misguided child from your
artifices and from the ridicule of the world, I rescued her from
ruin last night, and, to secure her honor, gave her in marriage to
an honorable man."
Eugene was as overwhelmed with this intelligence as though he had
not foreseen it from the first. His wail was so piteous that Louvois
himself felt its terrible significance, and started.
"You forced--forced her to give her hand to another?" gasped he.
"Forced! I perceived no reluctance on my daughter's side, to her
marriage. She spoke a willing and distinct assent to the priest's
interrogatory. I ought to know, who myself was one of her
witnesses."
"That merely proves that she was deceived by the lying note that you
forged in my name. How, in the sight of God, can a father so betray
his own child!"
"It was sent with my approbation, but written by Barbesieur, as a
slight token of acknowledgment for your cowardly attack on him at
the Pre aux Clercs. Your mother was right, it appears, when a few
weeks ago she told me that no sympathy could exist between her race
and mine; and that every attempt at love between us was sure to end
in hate. Quite right she was, quite right. And now, Prince of Savoy,
your mission is fulfilled. Tell the Duchess of Orleans that her lady
of the bedchamber is secure, but cannot return to her service: she
is under the protection of her husband."
"I will tell her," replied Eugene. "I will tell her that all honor,
all humanity, all justice, forgetting, a father has cruelly betrayed
his own daughter, and has cursed her life forever. Your wicked
action has broken the hearts of two of God's creatures, and has
consigned them to a misery that can only end with death. I say not,
'May God forgive you.' No! may God avenge my Laura's wrongs, and may
he choose Eugene of Savoy as the instrument of His wrath! for every
pang that rends the heart of my beloved, and for every throe that
racks my own, you shall answer to me, proud minister of France: and,
as there lives a God in heaven, you shall regret one day that you
rejected me for your son-in-law."
Without another word or look toward Louvois, he left the room, and
returned to his carriage. When he re-entered the cabinet of madame,
his ghastly face, the very incarnation of woe, told its own story.
"You bring me evil tidings," said she, mournfully. "My darling is
lost to us both!"
"Alas, my prophetic heart! She is married!" was his cry of despair.
"Poor Laura! poor Eugene!" sobbed the duchess, unable to restrain
her tears.
"If you weep, what shall I do?" asked Eugene. "Why do you take it so
much to heart?"
"Why?" exclaimed she. "Because I am no longer young, and I have lost
my last hope of happiness. You, at least, have life and the world
before you."
"And I," said he, languidly--"I am young, and have a lifetime
wherein to suffer. The world is before me! Yes; but it is a waste,
without tree or flower. With scorched eyes and blistered feet, I
must tread its burning sands alone. Forgive me, dear lady, if I ask
permission to go. If I stay much longer, my aching head will burst."
"You are wan as a spectre, my poor Eugene," returned the duchess,
laying her hand upon his arm. and looking him compassionately in the
face.
"And, in truth, I am but the corpse of the living man of yesterday,"
sighed he. "Let me go home, that I may bury myself and my dead hopes
together."
The duchess rang for her gentleman in waiting, and requested him to
accompany the prince to his carriage, and thence to the Hotel de
Soissons; but Eugene gently refused the proffered escort, and begged
to be allowed to depart alone. He turned away, and as the duchess
watched his receding figure, she saw him reel from side to side,
like a man intoxicated.
At last he was at home. He had strength left to alight, to ascend
the long marble staircase, whose balustrade was now hidden by a
thicket of climbing jessamines, and to enter the antechamber leading
to the apartments of state.
Monsieur Louis, with the elite of his workmen, was decorating its
walls with hangings of white satin, looped with garlands suspended
from the bills of cooing doves. When he beheld the prince, he came
triumphantly forward.
"See. your highness, this is but the vestibule of the temple! When
you will have seen its interior, you will confess that it is worthy
the abode of the loveliest bride that ever graced its princely
halls."
Eugene neither interrupted nor answered him. He raised his large,
mournful eyes to the festooned roses, the gilded doves, the snowy,
shimmering satin, and to his fading senses they seemed gradually to
darken into cypress-wreaths and funereal palls. He pressed his hand
upon his bursting heart, and fell insensible to the floor.