"'Monsieur le Baron de Canolles will keep Madame la
Princesse and her son, Monsieur le Duc d'Enghien, in
sight--'"
"In sight," said Canolles.
"In sight; yes, so it says."
Claire realized all the advantage that a man as deeply in love as
Canolles was might take upon the strength of such instructions, but
she also realized how great a service she would render the princess by
prolonging the deception of the court.
"Write, then," she said, resignedly.
Canolles questioned her with his eyes, and in the same way she
indicated a secretary, which contained all the essentials for writing.
Canolles opened it, took therefrom pen, ink, and paper, placed them
upon a table, moved the table as near as possible to the bed, asked
permission to be seated, as if Claire were still in his eyes Madame la
Princesse, and wrote the following despatch to Monsieur de Mazarin:--
"MONSEIGNEUR,--I arrived at the château of Chantilly at nine
o'clock in the evening; you will see that I travelled with
all diligence, as I had the honor to take leave of your
Eminence at half-past six.
"I found the two princesses in bed,--the princess dowager
quite seriously ill, Madame la Princesse tired out after
hunting all day.
"According to your Eminence's instructions I waited upon
their Highnesses, who immediately dismissed all their
guests, and I am at this moment keeping watch upon Madame la
Princesse and her son."
"And her son," Canolles repeated, turning to the viscountess. "The
devil! that sounds like a lie, and yet I would prefer not to lie."
"Have no fear," rejoined Claire, laughing; "if you haven't seen my son
yet, you shall see him very soon."
"And her son," resumed Canolles, echoing her laugh.
"I have the honor of writing this letter to your Eminence
in Madame la Princesse's bedroom, sitting by her bedside."
He signed his name, and, having respectfully asked Claire's permission,
pulled a bell-cord. A _valet de chambre_ answered the bell.
"Call my servant," said Canolles; "and when he is in the antechamber
inform me."
Within five minutes the baron was informed that Monsieur Castorin was
waiting.
"Take this letter," said Canolles, "and carry it to the officer in
command of my two hundred men; bid him send an express to Paris with
it."
"But, Monsieur le Baron," rejoined Castorin, who looked upon such an
errand in the middle of the night as one of the most disagreeable
things imaginable, "I thought that I told you that Monsieur Pompée had
engaged me to take service with Madame la Princesse."
"Very good; I transmit this order to you on behalf of Madame la
Princesse.--Will not your Highness deign to confirm what I say?" he
added, turning toward the bed. "You are aware how important it is that
this letter be delivered at once."
"Go," said the spurious princess, with a majestic accent and gesture.
Castorin bowed to the ground and left the room.
"Now," said Claire, holding out both her little hands imploringly to
Canolles, "you will leave me, will you not?"
"Pardon me; but your son, madame?"
"True," replied Claire, with a smile; "you shall see him."
The words were hardly out of her mouth when some one scratched at the
door, as the custom was at that time. It was Cardinal de Richelieu,
influenced, doubtless, by his love for cats, who introduced this
style of knocking. During his long reign people scratched at Monsieur
de Richelieu's door; afterwards at Monsieur de Chavigny's, who was
entitled to succeed him in this regard, were it only as his natural
heir; and, lastly, at Monsieur de Mazarin's. Therefore they might well
scratch at Madame la Princesse's door.
"They are coming," said Madame de Cambes.
"'T is well. I resume my official character."
He moved the table away and the chair, put on his hat, and stood in a
respectful attitude, four steps from the princess's bed.
"Come in," said Claire.
Thereupon the stateliest procession imaginable filed into the room.
There were ladies' in waiting, chamberlains, functionaries of all
grades,--the whole ordinary retinue of the princess.
"Madame," said the first _valet de chambre_, "Monseigneur le Duc
d'Enghien has been awakened. He can now receive his Majesty's
messenger."
Canolles' eyes, as he looked at Madame de Cambes, said as plainly as
his voice could have done:--
"Is this in accordance with our agreement?"
This look, eloquent with the entreaty of a heart in distress, was
perfectly understood, and in gratitude, doubtless, for all that
Canolles had done,--perhaps in some measure to gratify the love for
mischief which is invariably hidden in the depths of the best woman's
heart,--
"Bring Monsieur le Duc d'Enghien hither," said Claire; "monsieur will
see my son in my presence."
They hastened to obey, and a moment later the young prince was led into
the room.
We have seen that, while he was watching every detail of the last
preparations for Madame la Princesse's departure, Canolles saw the
young prince playing and running about, but did not see his face. He
did, however, notice his costume, which was a simple hunting-suit.
He thought, therefore, that it could not be in his honor that he
was arrayed in the magnificent costume in which he now saw him. His
former idea, that the prince had gone with his mother, became almost a
certainty; but he gazed at the heir of the illustrious Prince de Condé
for some time in silence, and an imperceptible smile played about his
lips, although his demeanor was no less respectful than before.
"I am too happy," he said, with a low bow, "to be vouchsafed the honor
of presenting my respects to Monseigneur le Duc d'Enghien."
Madame de Cambes, upon whose face the child's great wondering eyes were
fixed, motioned to him to bow; and as it seemed to her that the air
with which Canolles was following the scene was too scornful by half,
she said, with a malicious deliberation which made the baron shudder,
"My son, this gentleman is Monsieur de Canolles, sent hither by his
Majesty. Give Monsieur de Canolles your hand to kiss."
At that command Pierrot, who had been taken in charge and drilled
by Lenet, as he had agreed, put out a hand which he had had neither
the time nor the means to transform into a gentleman's hand, and
Canolles had no choice but to bestow, amid the stifled laughter of
the spectators, a kiss upon that hand, which one less skilled in such
matters than he would have had no difficulty in identifying as anything
but an aristocratic member.
"Ah! Madame de Cambes!" muttered Canolles, "you shall pay me for that
kiss!" And he bowed respectfully to Pierrot in acknowledgment of the
honor done him. Realizing that after this trial, which was the last
upon the programme, it was impossible for him to remain longer in a
woman's bedroom, he turned toward the bed and said:--
"My duties for this evening are fulfilled, and it remains for me to ask
your permission to retire."
"Go, monsieur," said Claire; "you see that we are very quiet here, so
that nothing need disturb the tranquillity of your slumbers."
"Before I retire I venture to solicit a very great boon, madame."
"What might it be?" asked Madame de Cambes, uneasily, for the baron's
tone indicated that he was planning to take revenge upon her.
"To grant me the same favor that I have received from the prince your
son."
The viscountess was fairly caught. It was impossible to refuse an
officer in the king's service the formal favor he thus solicited in
public, and Madame de Cambes extended her trembling hand to Canolles.
He walked toward the bed as he might have walked toward the throne of
a queen, took by the ends of the fingers the hand that was held out to
him, knelt upon one knee, and imprinted upon the soft, white, trembling
flesh a long kiss, which all the bystanders attributed to profound
respect, and which the viscountess alone recognized as the equivalent
of an ardent loving embrace.
"You promised me, you swore, indeed," said Canolles in an undertone, as
he rose, "not to leave the château without informing me. I rely upon
your promise and your oath."
"You may rely upon them, monsieur," said Claire, falling back upon her
pillow, almost in a swoon.
Canolles, through whose whole being her tone sent a thrill of joy,
tried to read in his fair prisoner's eyes confirmation of the hope her
tone gave him. But those eyes were hermetically closed.
Canolles reflected that locked caskets are the ones which contain the
most precious treasures, and he left the room with paradise in his
heart.
To tell how our gentleman passed that night; to tell how his sleep and
his waking were one long dream, during which he lived over and over
again in his mind all the details of the chimerical adventure which had
placed in his keeping the most precious treasure that a miser could
ever hide away beneath the wings of his heart; to tell of the plans he
devised for making the future subservient to the needs of his love and
the whims of his imagination; to set forth the arguments that he used
to convince himself that he was doing what he ought,--would be an utter
impossibility; for folly is a wearisome thing to any other mind than a
fool's.
Canolles fell asleep very late, if the feverish delirium which
alternated with his waking moments can be called sleep; and yet the
dawn had scarcely whitened the tops of the poplar-trees, and had not
descended to the tranquil surface of the lovely ponds, where sleep the
water-lilies, whose flowers open only in the sunlight, when he leaped
out of bed, and, dressing himself in haste, went down into the garden.
His first visit was to the wing occupied by the princess; his first
glance at the window of her apartment. Either the princess was not
yet asleep, or she was already awake, for a light, too bright to be
produced by a mere night-lamp, shone through the closely drawn damask
curtains. Canolles stopped short at the sight, which undoubtedly caused
a number of insane conjectures to pass through his mind at the same
instant, and, abandoning his tour of inspection, he stepped behind the
pedestal of a statue which hid him from view; there, alone with his
chimera, he began that everlasting dialogue of true lovers, who see the
beloved object in all the poetic emanations of nature.
The baron had been at his observatory for half an hour, or thereabout,
and was gazing with unspeakable bliss at the curtains which any other
than he would have passed indifferently by, when a window upon the
gallery opened, and the honest face of Master Pompée appeared in the
opening. Everything connected with the viscountess possessed the
deepest interest for Canolles; so he turned his gaze away from the
seductive curtains, and thought he could detect a desire on Pompée's
part to establish communication with him by signs. At first Canolles
was not sure that the signs were addressed to him, and looked about
to discover if any other person was near; but Pompée, observing his
uncertainty, accompanied his motions with a whistle, which would have
been a decidedly unseemly method for a squire to adopt to attract
the attention of the ambassador of his Majesty the King of France,
had it not had an excuse in the shape of a small white object almost
imperceptible to any other eyes than those of a lover, who immediately
recognized in the white object a folded paper.
"A note!" thought Canolles? "she's writing to me. What does that mean?"
He drew near, trembling with apprehension, although his first sentiment
was exceeding joy; but there always is a certain tincture of dread in
the great joys of a lover, which is perhaps its chiefest charm: to be
sure of one's happiness is to be happy no longer.
As Canolles approached, Pompée ventured to expose the paper more and
more, and at last he put out his arm while Canolles held his hat. The
two men understood each other to admiration, as we see; the former let
the note fall, and the other caught it very skilfully, and then darted
into a clump of trees to read it at his leisure, while Pompée, fearful
of taking cold, no doubt, quickly closed the window.
But one does not read like that the first note he has ever received
from the woman of his choice, especially when there can be no reason
for its unforeseen arrival, unless it be to aim a blow at his
happiness. For what could the viscountess have to say to him if there
had been no change in the programme agreed upon between them the night
before? The note therefore must of necessity contain some distressing
news.
Canolles was so thoroughly convinced of this that he did not even
put the paper to his lips as a lover would ordinarily do in the like
circumstances. On the contrary, he turned it over and over with
increasing dread. However, it must be opened at some time, so he
summoned all his courage, broke the seal, and read as follows:--
"MONSIEUR,--I hope you will agree with me that to remain
longer in our present position is altogether impossible.
It must be excessively disagreeable to be looked upon as a
detestable spy by the whole household; on the other hand
I have reason to fear that, if I receive you more affably
than Madame la Princesse would be likely to do in my place,
we shall be suspected of playing a comedy, which would
inevitably end in the loss of my reputation."
Canolles wiped his brow; his presentiments had not deceived him. With
the daylight, the great banisher of visions, all his golden dreams
disappeared. He shook his head, heaved a sigh, and read on:--
"Pretend to discover the stratagem to which we resorted;
there is a very simple method of making that discovery, and
I will myself furnish the materials if you will promise to
do as I ask. You see that I do not seek to conceal how much
I rely upon you. If you will do as I ask I will send you a
portrait of myself, upon which are my crest and my name. You
can say that you found it on one of your night rounds, and
that you discovered in that way that I am not the princess.
"Need I say that you have my permission, if indeed you
attach any value to the portrait, to keep it as a token of
my heartfelt, undying gratitude to you, if you take your
departure this morning?
"Leave us without seeing me again, if possible, and you
will take with you all my gratitude, while I shall always
remember you as one of the noblest and most loyal gentlemen
I have ever known."
Canolles read the note through once more, and stood as if turned to
stone. Whatever favor a letter of dismissal may contain, no matter how
sweet the honey in which a farewell or a refusal is clothed, refusal,
farewell, dismissal, are none the less cruel to the heart of a lover.
The portrait was a lovely thing to have, no doubt about that; but the
motive for offering it detracted greatly from its value. And then, of
what use is a portrait when the original is at hand, when one holds her
fast and need not let her go?
True; but Canolles, who did not hesitate to risk incurring the wrath
of the queen and Mazarin, trembled at the thought of Madame de Cambes'
frown.
And yet, how the woman had made sport of him, first of all on the
road, then at Chantilly, by taking the place of Madame la Princesse,
and again, only the night before, by giving him a hope which she
snatched away again in the morning! But, of all her deceptions, this
was the most heartless. On the road she did not know him, and simply
got rid of an inconvenient companion, nothing more. In taking Madame
de Condé's place, she obeyed orders, and played the part assigned
her by her suzerain,--she could not do otherwise; but this time she
did know him, and after she had expressed her appreciation of his
self-sacrifice, and had twice uttered that _we_ which had touched the
deepest chords of his heart, to retrace her steps, disavow her kindly
feeling, deny her gratitude, in a word, write such a letter as that,
was, in Canolles' sight, worse than cruelty,--it was almost mockery.
So he lost his temper, and raged inwardly, heedless of the fact that
behind those curtains--the lights having been all extinguished as the
daylight rendered them useless--a fair spectator, well hidden by the
heavy hangings, looked on at the pantomime of his despair, and shared
it perchance.
"Yes, yes," he thought, and accompanied the thought with expressive
gestures,--"yes, 't is a dismissal in due form, a commonplace ending
to a great event, a poetic hope changed to brutal disappointment. But
I will not submit to the ridicule she proposes to heap upon me. I
prefer her hatred to this pretended gratitude she prates of. Ah! yes,
I imagine myself relying upon her promise now! As well rely upon the
constancy of the wind and the tranquillity of the ocean. Ah! madame,
madame," he continued, turning toward the window, "you have escaped
me twice; but I give you my word that if I ever have another such
opportunity you shall not escape me the third time."
With that, Canolles returned to his apartment, intending to dress and
gain access to the viscountess, though he were obliged to resort to
force. But upon glancing at the clock, he discovered that it was barely
seven. No one had yet risen in the château.
Canolles dropped into an arm-chair and closed his eyes, to collect his
thoughts, and, if possible, drive away the phantoms that were dancing
about him; he opened them again at short intervals to consult his watch.
Eight o'clock struck and the château began to show signs of life.
Canolles waited another half-hour with infinite impatience; at last
he could contain himself no longer, but went downstairs and accosted
Pompée, who was proudly taking the air in the main court-yard,
surrounded by lackeys to whom he was describing his campaigns in
Picardy under the late king.
"You are her Highness's intendant?" said Canolles, as if he then saw
poor Pompée for the first time.
"Yes, monsieur," replied the wondering squire.
"Be good enough to inform her Highness that I crave the honor of paying
my respects to her."
"But, monsieur, her Highness--"
"Has arisen."
"But--"
"Go!"
"But I thought that monsieur's departure--"
"My departure will depend upon the interview I propose to have with her
Highness."
"I say that because I have no orders from my mistress."
"And I say this," retorted Canolles, "because I have an order from the
king."
As he spoke he majestically clapped his hand upon the pocket of his
doublet,--a gesture which he adopted as the most satisfactory in its
results of all those he had employed since his arrival.
But even as he executed this _coup d'état_, our ambassador felt that
his courage was deserting him. In fact, since the preceding night, his
importance had greatly diminished. Twelve hours, or very nearly that,
had elapsed since Madame la Princesse left Chantilly; doubtless she
had travelled all night; she must therefore be twenty or twenty-five
leagues away. Let Canolles and his men make what speed they might, they
could not hope to overtake her; and if they should overtake her, what
assurance was there that the escort of a hundred gentlemen with which
she set out was not ere this increased to three or four hundred devoted
adherents? To be sure, Canolles might still, as he said the night
before, die in the performance of his duty; but had he the right to
lead to certain death the men who accompanied him, and thus force them
to pay the bloody penalty of his amorous caprice? Madame de Cambes, if
he had been in error as to her feeling for him, if her distress was
mere comedy,--Madame de Cambes might then openly make sport of him; he
would have to endure the jeering of the lackeys and of the soldiers
hidden in the forest; the wrath of Mazarin and the queen; and worse
than all, his new-born passion would be nipped in the bud, for never
did woman love a man whom she designed, though but for an instant, to
make ridiculous.
As he was turning these thoughts over and over in his mind, Pompée
returned, with lowered crest, to say that his mistress was awaiting him.
On this occasion all ceremony was done away with; the viscountess
received him in a small salon adjoining her apartment, fully dressed,
and standing. Traces of a sleepless night, which she had tried in vain
to efface, were plainly visible upon her charming features. A slight
dark circle about her eyes was an especially eloquent indication that
those eyes had hardly been closed during the night.
"You see, monsieur," she began, without giving him time to speak,
"that I comply with your wish, but in the hope, I confess, that this
interview will be the last, and that you will reciprocate by complying
with mine."
"Forgive me, madame," said Canolles; "but after what took place between
us last evening, I made bold to hope that your demands would be less
severe, and I was confident that, after what I had done for you,--for
you alone, for I do not know Madame de Condé,--you would deign to
endure my further presence at Chantilly."
"Yes, monsieur, I confess that on the impulse of the moment--in the
perplexity necessarily consequent upon my present position--the thought
of the great sacrifice you were making for me, and the interests of
Madame la Princesse, which demanded that I should gain time for her,
drew from my lips certain words which accorded but ill with my thought.
But during this long night I have reflected; it is out of the question
that both of us should remain longer at the château."
"Out of the question, madame!" said Canolles. "Do you forget that
everything is possible for him who speaks in the king's name?"
"Monsieur de Canolles, I hope that before all else you are a gentleman,
and that you will not take unfair advantage of the position in which my
devotion to her Highness has placed me."
"Madame," rejoined Canolles, "before all else I am a madman. _Mon
Dieu!_ you must have seen it, for no one but a madman could do what I
have done. So take pity on my madness, madame; do not send me away, I
implore you!"
"Then I will leave the place, monsieur; yes, I will bring you back to
your duty, in spite of yourself. We will see if you will resort to
force to stop me, if you will expose us both to public scandal. No,
no, monsieur," the viscountess continued, in a tone which Canolles had
not heard before. "No, you will see upon reflection that you cannot
remain forever at Chantilly; you will remember that you are expected
elsewhere."
This last phrase cast a bright light upon Canolles' perplexity. It
recalled to his mind the scene at Biscarros' inn, and Madame de Cambes'
discovery of his liaison with Nanon, and everything was made clear.
This insomnia was caused by memories of the past, not by present
anxiety. This determination of the morning, which led her to avoid
Canolles, was not the result of reflection, but was a manifestation of
jealousy.
For a moment there was silence between them, as they stood there face
to face; but during that silence both were listening to the thoughts
which whispered with the beating of their hearts.
"Jealous!" Canolles was saying; "jealous! Ah! now I understand it all.
Yes, yes, she would make sure that I love her enough to sacrifice all
other love! This is a test!"