BLUE

She was a princess. A sister of the queen; she lived at her side and

shared her honors. But the fancy of the princess, suggested less

pompous pleasures to her, and she gladly would visit one of her ladies

in waiting whose husband was a simple member of the bodyguard and

moreover an excellent gentleman--young, handsome, witty, tender.

The princess had been married in her country to a prince who might

become king, if several generations were to disappear in some

cataclysm. They had never loved each other. The princess, too, who was

at times mocking and always proud, was reputed to have a heart of iron.

She had been showered with plenty of homage, but had accepted no one.

Now she would scoff, now she would assume a glacial tone. She was fond

only of her toilette, gaming and domination. What pleased her about the

guard was that he accepted her smiles as commands; then, she always won

at _vingt-et-un_; and her gowns and her diamonds eclipsed all other

adornments and all other gowns. The guard had never displayed for her

any feeling other than a deep respect.

As she was blonde, she liked blue stuffs, blue flowers, sapphires, as

blue as her eyes, so that people began to call her the Blue Princess.

The name, which seemed to have come out of a fairy tale, pleasured her.

One day, hearing the sad confidences of her lady in waiting, she felt a

certain languor steal through her thoughts and into her limbs, and she

said: “My soul is a blue bird.” This phrase, which she repeated several

times, restored all her serenity, so beautiful it was. Then she looked

about her:

“So your husband is away, my dear? I believe he hasn’t come to pay his

respects to me.”

“My husband seems absent to you today, but isn’t he absent every day?”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t he every day absent from himself?”

“My poor friend, that signifies that he neglects you.”

“He no longer loves me.”

“Truly, this is fine behavior. But it’s impossible. Besides, I’ll not

allow it. I don’t want my friend to be unhappy. He is going to get

orders from me.”

“Ah, madame! You believe, then, that hearts may be commanded?”

“Why, without a doubt. Was I consulted when they married me off--me, a

princess? I was told to love my husband, and I loved him.”

“How long?”

“Why, I should have loved him always, had he wished it. He did not wish

it.”

“So you see.”

“He did not wish it, or perhaps he could not. The marriage gave me no

pleasure; he reproached me for my coldness, and I wept. Since that

moment we have never met without witnesses. At first I felt exceedingly

humiliated, then I appreciated the quietude of solitary nights. I am

very happy to be a girl again. But since my experience I understand

somewhat the less all games, dramas and comedies of love.... Then you

find amusement, do you, in the conjugal ceremony?”

The lady gazed at her mistress with respectful, sorrowful irony.

Then she said:

“I fear lest my husband has some lady-love upon his mind, or some

light-o’-love.”

“Light-o’-love?” repeated the princess. “The word’s a pretty one.

Light-o’-love. That can hardly be serious, can it?”

“Serious? No. Light-o’-love passes and love remains. But I don’t know.

Perhaps it’s a genuine love passion that takes him from me. I’m afraid,

really.”

“I understand almost nothing of all this,” said the princess, “but I

should be glad to see you as happy as I myself am. As far as that is

concerned, I need only the life that goes by and that I breathe. As

for you, since you need love, I’ll do my best, I repeat, to help you.

The word of his princess will touch his heart.... Eh! My good friend,

perhaps it is I whom he adores?”

“Perhaps, alas!”

“Why ‘alas’? If it is I, you are saved.”

At this moment the guard entered and advanced to salute the princess.

“Monsieur,” she said to him, “I will receive you at six o’clock at the

palace, in private audience.”

She arose and left.

Everybody followed the example of the princess, and man and wife were

left face to face, both exceedingly uneasy.

“Madame,” said the husband, “so you have displeased the princess? So

it’s to you that I owe this insult?”

“Insult? What do you mean? The lady of your thoughts makes a private

appointment for you and yet you complain?”

He was at a loss for reply, for this was the first time that his wife

had referred to feelings which he had imagined he held well hidden in

his heart.

“The lady of my thoughts,” he answered, brutally, “is my career, and

you have doubtless ruined that with your prating.”

“I’m no gossip.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Ah! Leave me. You don’t deserve to be loved.”

The lady in waiting fled, brimming with a sad anger. But, in defiance

of all reason, she hoped that the intercession of the princess would

prove fruitful, and she spent the rest of that day weeping softly.

The guard adored the princess secretly and without hope. Timid and

violent, he saved his timidity for his divinity, his violence for his

wife; but when he had been brutal he would be overwhelmed with shame

and his timidity would cause him much suffering. He was almost always

unhappy. Thus, for some time he had been seeking in ambition a remedy

for his ills. He had just spent the afternoon in executing the most

humiliating errands for the king’s mistress, who was troubled by the

attentions of a lover of inferior station whom she had dismissed.

The guard, in exchange for a note three lines long, was to receive a

captain’s brevet. He had the note in his wallet and it was supposed to

be delivered to the mistress at exactly six o’clock.

Love, curiosity and disquietude triumphed over ambition. He went to

dress for the occasion, perfumed himself and ran to the interview,

saying to himself: “Perhaps it’s a rendez-vouz.”

The princess, instead of letting him dance attendance, was herself

waiting for him when he arrived, and not without impatience. She was

prettier than ever, because more pale, with sparkling eyes. Her face

was as tender as a cluster of white lilacs hidden beneath the leaves,

but these leaves were blonde: her coiffure, in most artistic disarray,

let a few curly tresses droop to her shoulders.

“Come nearer,” she said in a sorrowing voice. “Come nearer. Stand here,

beside me. I am suffering, and can speak only in the lowest tones. And

then, it’s the friend, the friend of your wife who receives you--not

the princess. Now, then: I have become aware that you no longer love

Elizabeth and that gives me pain. Have you really ceased to love her?”

“Alas!”

“And how about your sense of duty, of your honor?”

“My honor?”

“Yes. You had vowed to her, besides conjugal fidelity, an eternal

tenderness....”

“She believed it.... Perhaps I, too, believed.”

“It’s wrong to abandon her, to torment her.... She is weeping at this

moment, I am sure....”

“I am not bad to her.”

“Very well. Promise me never to cause her displeasure again.”

“I will never voluntarily cause her displeasure.”

“Good. But promise me more. Promise me....”

She seemed oppressed, and her voice sank so low that, in order to hear

it, the guard had to lean toward the princess, almost grazing her

tresses. This man, although he was accustomed to all the dissemblances

of the courtly folk, suffered frightfully. To love the princess from

afar had seemed to him a sweet torture in comparison to the agony

which, at this moment, was stirred in him by desire. Were she any

other woman, either he would have fallen to his knees or taken to

flight; with the princess, he must remain, keep silent and preserve the

attitude of a soldier receiving orders.

“Promise me,” resumed the princess, “that you will be kind to her, very

kind, and that you will love her again....”

The guard said nothing.

“You promise?”

Still he said nothing.

“Then it’s no longer possible? All is then over between you? Have you

any serious fault to find with her?”

“I have no fault to find. I no longer love her. That is all.”

“Let her not discover this, at least!”

“I was hoping that she would never discover it.”

“One may cease loving a woman, then, without her discovering?”

“It is hard. I lacked the necessary skill. What is too easy, alas, is

to love a woman without her discovering it.”

“Oh! You really think so?”

“I am sure of it. She whom I love has never suspected my love and will

never suspect it.”

“Sir guard,” said the princess, “sir soldier man, you are a child. She

whom you love knows your love....”

“Alas!” he said, incredulously.

“... and she loves you,” she added, giving him her two hands.

He threw himself upon the gift, but he was still undecided, so troubled

that he panted.

“Kiss them, my child,” said the princess. “Kiss me, you who love me,

you who have desired me so long in the secret chamber of your heart.

Kiss your blue princess, kiss your love.”

On the next morning the maid said to her mistress:

“Oh! Madame has a blue spot upon her throat.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. It’s a mark. But so strange! Now it’s here,

now there. It appears, it vanishes. On my throat, it’s true, and on my

heart....”

“Perhaps that’s why they call Madame the blue princess?” continued the

innocent woman.

“Go, see if my lady-in-waiting is there.”

The princess, left for a moment by herself, gazed feelingly at her blue

spot.

“Lord, how happy I am!” she said to herself. “And how cunning! And how

stupid is my friend! To confide her love troubles! Poor Ariane, without

you, I should perhaps never have known anything. Those glances which I

took for the signs of an ardent, respectful attachment were love!...

But here she comes....”

The lady-in-waiting entered excitedly.

“Ah! Princess? I had to stay up for him till four in the morning! I am

beside myself! All is lost.”

“There! Can’t you ever be reasonable? On the contrary, all is settled.”

“Ah! Thanks!”

“Listen to me. I received his confession. It was difficult, it was

long. At last I know the truth. It’s a light-o’-love. The person who

has turned your husband’s head is a humble actress of no consequence.

Men take them, drop them, pick them up again. This one had already

passed through many hands, and among others, through my husband’s....

You see, you and I have a family relationship.... Now then. An actress

is hardly ever free during the day time. Her liberty begins when

that of other women ends, at midnight. So I have decided that your

husband’s duties shall be shifted to my palace from midnight to four

in the morning.... Naturally he will receive compensation, for that’s

an arduous task.... His future is assured, and his happiness.... Is

he ambitious? Yes. Very well. Would he like a title? A decoration? At

first I’ll attach him to my personal suite. As soon as there is an

opening, in six months, in three, he will be made my aide-de-camp, my

secretary. He will leave me only to court you, happy wife. Between the

two of us we will keep watch over him....”

“How good you are!”

“Am I not, indeed?”

“You are kindness itself.”

“You are beautiful. You are, and that is worth more.”

“Beautiful? Who is more beautiful than you?”

“Flatterer! I am thirty and you are twenty-five.... Alas! I have

renounced everything. You will love me, at least?”

“I have always loved you. Henceforth I will adore you. My life belongs

to you. I will devote myself to you until death, and my husband, too, I

fondly hope.”

“I, too, hope so. I have perhaps delivered him from a grave peril, from

an unhappy love, for what joy can one find in the adventure that he was

engaged in?”

“When he comes to his right senses he will be deeply grateful to

you.... Yesterday evening, that is to say this morning, he was greatly

troubled. When he returned, I thought him drunk. He stared at me out of

wandering eyes. As soon as he entered his room he bolted the door and I

heard him cry out: ‘Ah! Ah! Ah!’...”

“He said nothing else?”

“I don’t think so. He is not very talkative.”

“A precious virtue. What would you say of a husband who imparted

humiliating confidences?... There _are_ some like that.... Mine, for

example....”

“You were indeed unhappy!”

“Yes and no. I never think of it any more The present exalts my

heart.... To bring happiness to those you love and who love you,--can

anything in the world equal that?”

“You are adorable!”

“And I am adored.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“My dear friend!”

She did not withhold her hand, which the lady in waiting covered with

kisses.

“They are superimposed,” she thought, “but the last does not efface

the first. Your lips, poor couple, still meet in fervor, but upon my

skin.... It is indeed curious....”

“Ah!” she resumed, aloud, “now that you are sure to rediscover your

happiness one day or another, I hope that you will be prudent.

According to the tales confided to me, your husband has been a trifle

fatigued by conjugal joys. Men don’t like to have advances made to

them....”

“Oh! Between husband and wife! Never mind. I will be discreet, generous

friend....”

“More generous than you think! For, after all, your husband is

very seductive. He is young, younger than I,--handsome, ardent,

passionate....”

“He was.”

“He still is, you may be sure, and you will notice it soon enough. If

I had not renounced everything, if I were not a princess.... In your

place I should be jealous.”

“Ah! Lord, I know your heart too well.”

“Then you will go home in full confidence? Yet a mite sad.”

“Yet a mite.”

“But the clouds are scattering, the sky is beginning to turn blue

again?”

“Yes.”

“As blue as my soul, my tender darling, as blue as my heart.”

And she thrust her finger into her bosom, toward the spot of the blue

bruise that so enchanted her amorous flesh.