CONVALESCENCE.
The queen walked straight up to where Charny lay, dressed, on a couch.
He raised his head, wakened by her entrance.
“The queen!” cried he, trying to rise.
“Yes, sir, the queen,” she replied, “who knows how you strive to lose
both reason and life; the queen, whom you offend both dreaming and
waking; the queen, who cares for your honor and your safety, and
therefore comes to you. Is it possible,” continued she, “that a
gentleman, formerly renowned like you for his loyalty and honor, should
become such an enemy as you have been to the reputation of a woman?
What will my enemies do, if you set them the example of treason?”
“Treason!” stammered Charny.
“Yes, sir. Either you are a madman, and must be forcibly prevented from
doing harm; or you are a traitor, and must be punished.”
“Oh, madame, do not call me a traitor! From the mouth of a king, such
an accusation would precede death; from the mouth of a woman, it is
dishonor. Queen, kill me, or spare me!”
“Are you in your right mind, M. de Charny?” said the queen, in a moved
voice.
“Yes, madame.”
“Do you remember your wrongs towards me, and towards the king?”
“Mon Dieu!” he murmured.
“For you too easily forget, you gentlemen, that the king is the husband
of the woman whom you insult, by raising your eyes to her—that he is
the father of your future master, the dauphin; you forget, also, that
he is a greater and better man than any of you—a man whom I esteem and
love.”
“Oh!” murmured Charny, with a groan, and seemed ready to faint.
This cry pierced the queen’s heart; she thought he was about to die,
and was going to call for assistance; but, after an instant’s
reflection, she went on: “Let us converse quietly, and be a man. Doctor
Louis has vainly tried to cure you; your wound, which was nothing, has
been rendered dangerous through your own extravagances. When will you
cease to present to the good doctor the spectacle of a scandalous folly
which disquiets him? When will you leave the castle?”
“Madame,” replied Charny, “your majesty sends me away; I go, I go!” And
he rose with a violent effort, as though he would have fled that
instant, but, unable to stand, fell almost into the arms of the queen,
who had risen to stop him.
She replaced him on the sofa; a bloody foam rose to his lips. “Ah, so
much the better!” cried he; “I die, killed by you!” The queen forgot
everything but his danger; she supported his drooping head on her
shoulders, and pressed her cold hands to his forehead and heart. Her
touch seemed to revive him as if by magic—he lived again; then she
wished to fly, but he caught hold of her dress, saying:
“Madame, in the name of the respect which I feel for you——”
“Adieu, adieu!” cried the queen.
“Oh, madame, pardon me!”
“I do pardon you.”
“Madame, one last look.”
“M. de Charny,” said the queen, trembling, “if you are not the basest
of men, to-morrow you will be dead, or have left this castle.”
He threw himself at her feet; she opened the door, and rushed away.
Andrée saw for an instant the young man on his knees before her, and
felt struck with both hate and despair. She thought, as she saw the
queen return, that God had given too much to this woman in adding to
her throne and her beauty this half-hour with M. de Charny.
The doctor, occupied only with the success of the negotiation, said,
“Well, madame, what will he do?”
“He will leave,” replied the queen; and, passing them quickly, she
returned to her apartment.
The doctor went to his patient, and Andrée to her room.
Doctor Louis found Charny a changed man, declaring himself perfectly
strong, asking the doctor how he should be moved, and when he should be
quite well, with so much energy that the doctor feared it was too much,
and that he must relapse after it. He was, however, so reasonable as to
feel the necessity of explaining this sudden change. “The queen has
done me more good by making me ashamed of myself,” he said, “than you,
dear doctor, with all your science. She has vanquished me by an appeal
to my amour propre.”
“So much the better,” said the doctor.
“Yes. I remember that a Spaniard—they are all boasters—told me one day,
to prove the force of his will, that it sufficed for him in a duel
which he had fought, and in which he had been wounded, to will that the
blood should not flow in the presence of his adversary in order to
retain it. I laughed at him. However, I now feel something like it
myself; I think that if my fever and delirium wished to return, I could
chase them away, saying, Fever and delirium, I forbid you to appear!”
“We know such things are possible,” replied the doctor. “Allow me to
congratulate you, for you are cured morally.”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, the physical cure will soon follow. Once sound in mind, you will
be sound in body within a week.”
“Thanks, doctor.”
“And, to begin, you must leave this place.”
“I am ready immediately.”
“Oh, we will not be rash; we will wait till this evening. Where will
you go?”
“Anywhere—to the end of the world if you like.”
“That is too far for a first journey; we will content ourselves with
Versailles. I have a house there where you shall go to-night.”
Accordingly, that evening the four valets, who had been so rudely
repulsed before, carried him to his carriage. The king had been hunting
all day; Charny felt somewhat uneasy at leaving without apprizing him;
but the doctor promised to make his excuses.
Andrée, concealed behind her curtains, saw the carriage drive off.
“If he resumes his desire to die,” thought the doctor, “at least it
will not be in my rooms, and under my care.”
Charny arrived safely, however, and the next day the doctor found him
so well, that he told him he thought he would require him no longer.
He received a visit from his uncle, and from an officer sent by the
king to inquire after him. At the end of a week he could ride slowly on
horseback: then the doctor advised him to go for a time to his estates
in Picardy to regain strength. He accordingly took leave of the king,
charged M. de Suffren with his adieus to the queen, who was ill that
evening, and set off for his château at Boursonnes.