THE CONGÉ.
The queen went to mass the next day, which was Sunday, smiling and
beautiful. When she woke in the morning she said, “It is a lovely day,
it makes me happy only to live.” She seemed full of joy, and was
generous and gracious to every one. The road was lined as usual on her
return with ladies and gentlemen. Among them were Madame de la Motte
and M. de Charny, who was complimented by many friends on his return,
and on his radiant looks. Glancing round, he saw Philippe standing near
him, whom he had not seen since the day of the duel.
“Gentlemen,” said Charny, passing through the crowd, “allow me to
fulfil an act of politeness;” and, advancing towards Philippe, he said,
“Allow me, M. de Taverney, to thank you now for the interest you have
taken in my health. I shall have the honor to pay you a visit
to-morrow. I trust you preserve no enmity towards me.”
“None, sir,” replied Philippe.
Charny held out his hand, but Philippe, without seeming to notice it,
said, “Here comes the queen, sir.” As she approached, she fixed her
looks on Charny with that rash openness which she always showed in her
affections, while she said to several gentlemen who were pressing round
her, “Ask me what you please, gentlemen, for to-day I can refuse
nothing.” A voice said, “Madame.” She turned, and saw Philippe, and
thus found herself between two men, of whom she almost reproached
herself with loving one too much and the other too little.
“M. de Taverney, you have something to ask me; pray speak——”
“Only ten minutes’ audience at your majesty’s leisure,” replied he,
with grave solemnity.
“Immediately, sir—follow me.” A quarter of an hour after, Philippe was
introduced into the library, where the queen waited for him.
“Ah! M. de Taverney, enter,” said she in a gay tone, “and do not look
so sorrowful. Do you know I feel rather frightened whenever a Taverney
asks for an audience. Reassure me quickly, and tell me that you are not
come to announce a misfortune.”
“Madame, this time I only bring you good news.”
“Oh! some news.”
“Alas, yes, your majesty.”
“There! an ‘alas’ again.”
“Madame, I am about to assure your majesty that you need never again
fear to be saddened by the sight of a Taverney; for, madame, the last
of this family, to whom you once deigned to show some kindness, is
about to leave the court of France forever.”
The queen, dropping her gay tone, said, “You leave us?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“You also!”
Philippe bowed. “My sister, madame, has already had that grief; I am
much more useless to your majesty.”
The queen started as she remembered that Andrée had asked for her congé
on the day following her first visit to Charny in the doctor’s
apartments. “It is strange,” she murmured, as Philippe remained
motionless as a statue, waiting his dismissal. At last she said
abruptly, “Where are you going?”
“To join M. de la Pérouse, madame.”
“He is at Newfoundland.”
“I have prepared to join him there.”
“Do you know that a frightful death has been predicted for him?”
“A speedy one,” replied Philippe; “that is not necessarily a frightful
one.”
“And you are really going?”
“Yes, madame, to share his fate.”
The queen was silent for a time, and then said, “Why do you go?”
“Because I am anxious to travel.”
“But you have already made the tour of the world.”
“Of the New World, madame, but not of the Old.”
“A race of iron, with hearts of steel, are you Taverneys. You and your
sister are terrible people—you go not for the sake of traveling, but to
leave me. Your sister said she was called by religions duty; it was a
pretext. However, she wished to go, and she went. May she be happy! You
might be happy here, but you also wish to go away.”
“Spare us, I pray you, madame; if you could read our hearts, you would
find them full of unlimited devotion towards you.”
“Oh!” cried the queen, “you are too exacting; she takes the world for a
heaven, where one should only live as a saint; you look upon it as a
hell—and both fly from it; she because she finds what she does not
seek, and you because you do not find what you do seek. Am I not right?
Ah! M. de Taverney, allow human beings to be imperfect, and do not
expect royalty to be superhuman. Be more tolerant, or, rather, less
egotistical.” She spoke earnestly, and continued: “All I know is, that
I loved Andrée, and that she left me; that I valued you, and you are
about to do the same. It is humiliating to see two such people abandon
my court.”
“Nothing can humiliate persons like your majesty. Shame does not reach
those placed so high.”
“What has wounded you?” asked the queen.
“Nothing, madame.”
“Your rank has been raised, your fortune was progressing.”
“I can but repeat to your majesty that the court does not please me.”
“And if I ordered you to stay here?”
“I should have the grief of disobeying your majesty.”
“Oh! I know,” cried she impatiently, “you bear malice; you quarreled
with a gentleman here, M. de Charny, and wounded him; and because you
see him returned to-day, you are jealous, and wish to leave.”
Philippe turned pale, but replied, “Madame, I saw him sooner than you
imagine, for I met him at two o’clock this morning by the baths of
Apollo.”
It was now the queen’s time to grow pale, but she felt a kind of
admiration for one who had retained so much courtesy and self-command
in the midst of his anger and grief. “Go,” murmured she at length, in a
faint voice, “I will keep you no longer.”
Philippe bowed, and left the room, while the queen sank, terrified and
overwhelmed, on the sofa.