"Her Majesty the queen sends me to you, madame, to assure your Highness
of her desire to continue upon friendly terms with you."
There was a very perceptible stir in the passage beside the bed, and
the princess, interrupting the orator, said in a broken voice:--
"Monsieur, say no more of her Majesty the queen's friendly feeling for
the family of Condé; there is direct proof of the contrary feeling in
the vaults of the donjon of Vincennes."
"Well, well," thought Canolles, "it seems that they have talked the
matter over, for they all say the same thing."
Meanwhile there was more stir in the passage, which the messenger did
not notice, on account of the embarrassment caused by his peculiar
situation.
"After all, monsieur," the princess continued, "what do you desire?"
"I desire nothing, madame," said Canolles, drawing himself up. "It is
her Majesty the queen who desires that I should come to this château,
that I should be admitted to the honor of your Highness's society,
unworthy as I am, and that I should contribute to the utmost of my
ability to restore harmony between two princes of the blood royal, at
enmity for no cause at such a sad time as this."
"For no cause?" cried the princess; "do you say that there was no cause
for our rupture?"
"I beg pardon, madame," rejoined Canolles. "I say nothing; I am not a
judge, but an interpreter simply."
"And until the harmony of which you speak is restored the queen sets
spies upon me, on the pretext--"
"And so I am a spy!" exclaimed Canolles, exasperated beyond measure.
"The word is out at last! I thank your Highness for your frankness."
As a feeling of desperation began to take possession of him he fell
into one of those superb attitudes which painters seek so earnestly to
impart to the figures in their inanimate tableaux, and which actors
endeavor to assume in their _tableaux vivants._
"So it is definitely decided that I am a spy!" he continued. "In that
case, madame, I pray you treat me as such wretches are commonly
treated; forget that I am the envoy of a queen, that that queen is
responsible for every act of mine, that I am simply an atom obeying
her breath. Order me turned out of doors by your servants, order your
gentlemen to put me to death, place me face to face with people whom I
can answer with club or sword; but do not, I pray you, madame, who are
placed so high by birth, by merit, and by misfortune, do not insult an
officer who but fulfils his bounden duty as soldier and as subject!"
These words straight from the heart, sad as a moan, and harsh as
a reproach, were calculated to produce and did produce a profound
impression. While listening to them the princess raised herself upon
her elbow, with glistening eyes and trembling hand.
"God forbid," said she, extending her hand almost imploringly toward
the messenger when he had ceased to speak. "God forbid that I should
intentionally insult so gallant a gentleman as yourself! No, Monsieur
de Canolles, I do not suspect your loyalty; consider my words unsaid;
they were unkind, I admit, and I have no wish to wound you. No, no, you
are a noble-hearted gentleman, Monsieur le Baron, and I do you full and
entire justice."
As the princess, in the act of uttering these words, impelled,
doubtless, by the same generous impulse which drew them from her
heart, had involuntarily thrust her head forward out of the shadow of
the heavy curtains, thereby exposing to view her white forehead, her
luxuriant blond hair, her bright red lips, and her lovely eyes, wet
with tears, Canolles started back, for it was as if a vision had passed
before his eyes, and it seemed to him as if he were once more inhaling
a perfume the memory of which alone sufficed to intoxicate him. It
seemed to him that one of the golden doors through which pass lovely
dreams, opened to bring back to him the vanished swarm of gladsome
thoughts and joys of love. He gazed with more assurance and with new
light at the bed, and in a second, by the passing glare of a flash
which lighted up the whole past, he recognized in the princess lying
before him the Vicomte de Cambes.
For some moments his agitation had been so great that the princess
could attribute it to the stern reproach which had stung him so deeply,
and as her impulsive movement lasted but an instant, as she drew back
almost immediately into the shadow, covered her eyes once more, and hid
her slender white hand, she essayed, not without emotion, but without
anxiety, to take up the conversation where she had left it.
"You were saying, monsieur?" said she.
But Canolles was dazzled, fascinated; visions were passing and
repassing before his eyes, and his brain was in a whirl; his senses
forsook him; he was on the point of throwing respect to the wind, and
of asking questions. But an instinctive feeling, perhaps that which God
implants in the hearts of those who love, which women call bashfulness,
but which is nothing more nor less than avarice, counselled Canolles
to dissemble still and wait; not to put an end to his dream, not to
compromise by an imprudent, hasty word the happiness of his whole life.
He did not add a gesture or a word to what he was called upon to do or
say. Great God! what would become of him if this great princess should
suddenly recognize him; if he should inspire her now with horror as he
had inspired her with suspicion at Master Biscarros' inn; if she should
recur to the accusation she had abandoned; and if she should conclude
that it was his purpose to avail himself of his official position, of
a royal command, to continue a pursuit, which was pardonable so long
as the Vicomte or Vicomtesse de Cambes was its object, but became rank
insolence, almost a crime, when directed, against a princess of the
blood?
"But," he suddenly reflected, "is it possible that a princess of her
name and station could have been travelling about alone with a single
attendant?"
Thereupon, as always happens under such circumstances, when a wavering,
despairing hope seeks something to revive it, Canolles in desperation
let his eyes wander about the room until they fell upon the portrait of
the woman holding her son by the hand.
At the sight a ray of light flashed through his mind, and he
instinctively stepped nearer to the portrait. The pseudo-princess could
not restrain a slight exclamation, and when Canolles, hearing her
voice, turned his head, he saw that her face was altogether hidden from
him.
"Oho!" said Canolles to himself, "what does that mean? Either it was
the princess whom I met in the Bordeaux road, or I am the victim of a
trick, and the person in that bed is not the princess. At all events,
we will soon see."
"Madame," he said, abruptly, "I know not what to think of your present
silence, and I recognize--"
"Whom do you recognize?" hastily exclaimed the lady in the bed.
"I recognize the fact," continued Canolles, "that I have been so
unfortunate as to inspire in you the same feeling I inspired in the
princess dowager."
"Ah!" the voice involuntarily gave utterance to this sigh of relief.
Canolles' remark was not strictly logical, perhaps, and had little
relevancy to their conversation, but his purpose was accomplished. He
noticed the sensation of terror which prompted the interruption, and
the joyful sensation with which his last words were received.
"But," he continued, "I am none the less compelled to say to your
Highness, distasteful as it is to me, that I am to remain at the
château and accompany your Highness wherever it may be your pleasure to
go."
"So that I cannot be alone even in my own apartments?" cried the
princess. "Ah! monsieur, that is worse than an indignity!"
"I have informed your Highness that such are my instructions; but I beg
you to have no fears on that score," added Canolles, with a piercing
glance at the occupant of the bed, and emphasizing every word; "you
should know better than any one that I am not slow to yield to a
woman's entreaties."
"I?" cried the princess, whose tone denoted more embarrassment than
surprise. "In truth, monsieur, I cannot fathom your meaning; I have no
idea to what circumstance you allude."
"Madame," rejoined Canolles, bowing, "I thought that the servant
who announced me to your Highness mentioned my name. I am Baron de
Canolles."
"Indeed," said the princess in a more confident voice; "what matters it
to me, monsieur?"
"I thought that having already had the honor of obliging your
Highness--"
"Of obliging me! how, I pray to know?" retorted the voice, in a changed
tone, which reminded Canolles of a certain very wrathful, but at the
same time very timorous voice, which he remembered too well.
"By carrying out my instructions to the letter," he replied with the
utmost respect.
The princess's apprehension seemed to be allayed once more.
"Monsieur," said she, "I have no wish to make you remiss in your duty;
carry out your instructions, whatever they may be."
"Madame, I am as yet, I am happy to say, entirely unskilled in the
persecution of women, and know even less of the method to be employed
in insulting a princess. I have the honor therefore to repeat to your
Highness what I have already said to the princess dowager, that I am
your very humble servant. Deign to give me your word that you will not
leave the château unaccompanied by me, and I will relieve you of my
presence, which, as I can well understand, is hateful to your Highness."
"But in that case, monsieur," said the princess, quickly, "you will not
carry out your orders."
"I shall do what my conscience tells me that I ought to do."
"Monsieur de Canolles, I swear that I will not leave Chantilly without
giving you due notice."
"Then, madame," said Canolles, bowing to the ground, "forgive me
for having been the involuntary cause of arousing your wrath for an
instant. Your Highness will not see me again until you are pleased to
summon me."
"I thank you, baron," said the voice, with a joyful inflection, which
seemed to find an echo in the passage. "Go, go! I thank you; to-morrow
I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again."
This time the baron recognized, beyond possibility of mistake, the
voice, the eyes, and the unspeakably delicious smile of the fascinating
being who slipped between his fingers, so to speak, the night that the
courier brought him the order from the Duc d'Épernon. A last glance at
the portrait, dimly lighted as it was, showed the baron, whose eyes
were beginning to be accustomed to the half-darkness, the aquiline
nose of the Maillé family, the black hair and deep-set eyes of the
princess; while the woman before him, who had just played through the
first act of the difficult part she had undertaken, had the eye level
with the face, the straight nose with dilated nostrils, the mouth
dimpled at the corners by frequent smiling, and the plump cheeks which
denote anything rather than the habit of serious meditation.
Canolles knew all that he wished to know; he bowed once more as
respectfully as if he still believed that he was in the princess's
presence, and withdrew to the apartment set apart for him.