On the day that Canolles was arrested at Jaulnay, under the eyes of
Madame de Cambes, she set out with Pompée to join Madame la Princesse,
who was in the neighborhood of Coutras.
The worthy squire's first care was to try and prove to his mistress
that the failure of Cauvignac's band to hold the fair traveller to
ransom, or to commit any act of violence in her regard, was to be
attributed to his resolute bearing, and his experience in the art of
war. To be sure, Madame de Cambes was less easily convinced than Pompée
hoped would be the case, and called his attention to the fact that for
something more than an hour he had entirely disappeared; but Pompée
explained to her that during that time he was hiding in a corridor,
where he had prepared everything for the viscountess's flight, having
a ladder in readiness; but he was compelled to maintain an unequal
struggle with two frantic soldiers, who tried to take the ladder away
from him; the which he did, of course, with his well-known indomitable
courage.
This conversation naturally led Pompée to bestow a warm eulogium upon
the soldiers of his day, who were savage as lions in face of the enemy,
as they had proved at the siege of Montauban and the battle of Corbie;
but gentle and courteous to their compatriots,--qualities of which the
soldiers of that day could hardly boast, it must be confessed.
The fact is that, without suspecting it, Pompée narrowly escaped a
great danger, that of being kidnapped. As he was strutting about,
as usual, with gleaming eyes, puffed-out chest, and the general
appearance of a Nimrod, he fell under Cauvignac's eye; but, thanks to
subsequent events; thanks to the two hundred pistoles he had received
from Nanon to molest no one save Baron de Canolles; and thanks to
the philosophical reflection that jealousy is the most magnificent
of passions, and must be treated with respect when one finds it in
his path, the dear brother passed Pompée disdainfully by, and allowed
Madame de Cambes to continue her journey to Bordeaux. Indeed, in
Nanon's eyes Bordeaux was very near Canolles. She would have been glad
to have the viscountess in Peru or Greenland or the Indies.
On the other hand, when Nanon reflected that henceforth she would have
her dear Canolles all to herself within four strong walls, and that
excellent fortifications, inaccessible to the king's soldiers, made a
prisoner of Madame de Cambes to all intent, her heart swelled with the
unspeakable joy which none but children and lovers know on this earth.
We have seen how her dream was realized, and Nanon and Canolles were
united at Île Saint-Georges.
Madame de Cambes pursued her journey sadly and fearfully.
Notwithstanding his boasting, Pompée was very far from reassuring her,
and she was terrified beyond measure to see a considerable party of
mounted-men approaching along a cross-road, toward evening of the day
that she left Jaulnay.
They were the same gentlemen returning from the famous burial of
the Duc de La Rochefoucauld, which afforded Monsieur le Prince de
Marsillac an opportunity, under the pretext of rendering due honor to
his father's memory, to get together all the nobility of France and
Picardy, who hated Mazarin even more than they loved the princess. But
Madame de Cambes and Pompée were struck by the fact that some of these
horsemen carried an arm in a sling; others had a leg hanging limp and
swathed in bandages; several had bloody bandages around their heads.
It was necessary to look very closely at these cruelly maltreated
gentlemen to recognize in them the active, spruce cavaliers who hunted
the stag in the park at Chantilly.
But fear has keen eyes; and Pompée and Madame de Cambes recognized some
familiar faces under the bloody bandages.
"_Peste!_ madame," said Pompée, "the funeral procession must have
travelled over very rough roads. I should say that most of these
gentlemen had had a fall! see how they've been curried."
"That's just what I was looking at," said Claire.
"It reminds me of the return from Corbie," said Pompée, proudly; "but
on that occasion I was not among the gallant fellows who returned, but
among those who were brought back."
"But aren't these gentlemen commanded by any one?" Claire asked, in
some anxiety as to the success of an enterprise which seemed to have
had such inauspicious results. "Have they no leader? Has their leader
been slain, that we do not see him? Pray look!"
"Madame," replied Pompée, rising majestically in his stirrups, "nothing
is easier than to distinguish a leader among the people he commands.
Ordinarily, on the march, the officer rides in the centre, with his
staff; in action, he rides behind or on the flank of his troop. Cast
your eyes at the different points that I mention and you can judge for
yourself."
"I can see nothing, Pompée; but I think that some one is following us.
Pray look back--"
"Hm! no, madame," said Pompée, clearing his throat, but omitting to
turn his head lest he might really see some one. "No, there is nobody.
But, stay, may that not be the leader with that red plume? No. That
gilded sword? No. That piebald horse like Madame de Turenne's? No. It's
a strange thing; there's no danger, and the commanding officer might
venture to show himself; it isn't here as it was at Corbie--"
"You are mistaken, Master Pompée," said a harsh, mocking voice behind
the poor squire, who nearly lost his seat in his fright; "you are
mistaken, it's much worse than at Corbie."
Claire quickly turned her head, and saw within five feet of her a
horseman of medium stature, dressed with an affectation of simplicity,
who was looking at her with a pair of small, gleaming eyes, as deep
set as a ferret's. "With his thick, black hair, his thin, twitching
lips, his bilious pallor, and his frowning brow, this gentleman had a
depressing effect even in broad daylight; at night his appearance would
perhaps have inspired fear.
"Monsieur le Prince de Marsillac!" cried Claire, deeply moved. "Ah!
well met, monsieur."
"Say Monsieur le Duc de La Rochefoucauld, madame; for now that the duke
my father is dead I have succeeded to that name, under which all the
actions of my life, good or bad, are to be set down."
"You are returning?" said Claire, with some hesitation.
"We are returning beaten, madame."
"Beaten! great Heaven!"
"I say that we are returning beaten, madame, because I am naturally
little inclined to boast, and I tell the truth to myself as well as to
others; otherwise I might claim that we are returning victorious; but,
in point of fact, we are beaten because our design upon Saumur failed.
I arrived too late; we have lost that important place, which Jarzé
has surrendered. Henceforth, assuming that Madame la Princesse has
Bordeaux, which has been promised her, the war will be concentrated in
Guyenne."
"But, monsieur," said Claire, "if, as I understand you to say, the
capitulation of Saumur took place without a blow, how does it happen
that all these gentleman are wounded?"
"Because," said La Rochefoucauld, with pride, which he could not
conceal, despite his power over himself, "we fell in with some royal
troops."
"And you fought with them?" demanded Madame de Cambes, eagerly.
"_Mon Dieu!_ yes, madame."
"So the first French blood has already been spilled by Frenchmen!"
murmured the viscountess. "And you, Monsieur le Duc, were the one to
set the example?"
"I was, madame."
"You, so calm and cool and shrewd!"
"When one upholds an unjust cause against me it sometimes happens that
I become very unreasonable because I am so earnest in my support of
what is reasonable."
"You are not wounded, I trust?"
"No, I was more fortunate this time than at Lignes and Paris. Indeed,
I thought that I had had my fill of civil war, and was done with it
forever; but I was mistaken. What would you have? Man always forms his
plans without consulting his passions, the true architects of his life,
which give an entirely different shape to the structure, when they do
not overturn it altogether."
Madame de Cambes smiled, for she remembered that Monsieur de La
Rochefoucauld had said that for Madame de Longueville's lovely eyes he
had made war on kings, and would make war on the gods.
This smile did not escape the duke, and he gave the viscountess no time
to follow up the thought which gave it birth.
"Allow me to offer you my congratulations, madame," he continued, "for
you are, in truth, a very model of valor."
"Why so?"
"Good lack! to travel thus alone, or with a single attendant, like
a Clorinda or a Bradamante! Oh! by the way, I have heard of your
admirable conduct at Chantilly. They tell me that you fooled a poor
devil of a royal officer to perfection. An easy victory, was it not?"
added the duke, with the smile and the look which, upon his face, meant
so much.
"How so?" Claire asked with emotion.
"I say easy," continued the duke, "because he did not fight on equal
terms with you. There was one thing, however, that impressed me
particularly in the version that was given me of that episode,"--and
the duke fixed his little eyes upon the viscountess more sharply than
ever.
There was no way for Madame de Cambes to retreat with honor, so she
prepared to make as vigorous a defence as possible.
"Tell me what it was that struck you so forcibly, Monsieur le Duc,"
said she.
"It was the very great skill, madame, with which you played that little
comic part; in fact, if I am to believe what I hear, the officer had
already seen your squire and yourself."
These last words, although uttered with the studied indifference of a
man of tact, did not fail to produce a deep impression upon Madame de
Cambes.
"He had seen me, monsieur, do you say?"
"One moment, madame; let us understand each other; it's not I who say
it, but that indefinite personage called 'they' to whose power kings
are as submissive as the lowest of their subjects."
"Where had he seen me, may I ask?"
"_They say_ that it was on the way from Libourne to Chantilly, at
a village called Jaulnay; but the interview was cut short, as the
gentleman received an order from Monsieur d'Épernon to start at once
for Mantes."
"But if this gentleman had seen me before, Monsieur le Duc, how could
he have failed to recognize me?"
"Ah! the famous _they_ of whom I spoke just now, and who have an
answer for every question, would say that the thing was possible, as
the interview took place in the dark."
"Really, Monsieur le Duc," said the viscountess, in dismay, "I am at a
loss to understand what you mean by that."
"In that case," rejoined the duke, with assumed good-nature, "I must
have been ill-informed; and then, what does a mere momentary encounter
amount to, after all? It is true, madame," he added gallantly, "that
your face and figure are calculated to leave a deep impression, even
after an interview lasting only an instant."
"But that would not be possible," the viscountess retorted, "if, as you
yourself say, the interview took place in the dark."
"Very true, and you parry cleverly, madame. I must be the one who is
mistaken, then, unless the young man had noticed you even before the
interview at Jaulnay, which in that case would not be precisely a
meeting."
"What would it be, then? Be careful of your words, Monsieur le Duc."
"As you see, I am hesitating; our dear French language is so poor that
I seek in vain for a word to express my thought. It would be what is
called, in Italian, an _appuntamento_; in English, an _assignation._"
"If I am not mistaken, Monsieur le Duc," said Claire, "those two words
are translated in French by _rendez-vous?_"
"Go to!" exclaimed the duke; "here I have said a foolish thing in two
foreign languages, and lo! I stumble upon a person who understands them
both! Pardon me, madame; it seems that Italian and English are as poor
as French."
Claire pressed her hand to her heart to breathe more freely; she was
suffocating. One thing was made clear to her mind which she had always
suspected; namely, that Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld had for her been
unfaithful to Madame de Longueville, in thought and in desire at least,
and that it was a feeling of jealousy which led him to speak as he had
been speaking. In fact, two years before, the Prince de Marsillac had
paid court to her as assiduously as was consistent with his crafty
nature, and his constant indecision and timidity, which made him the
most vindictive of foes, when he was not the most grateful of friends.
So it was that the viscountess preferred not to break a lance with the
man who held public and private affairs in the hollow of his hand.
"Do you know, Monsieur le Duc," said she, "that you are an invaluable
man, especially under circumstances like the present; and that Monsieur
de Mazarin, much as he prides himself upon his police, is no better
served in that regard than yourself?"
"If I knew nothing, madame," retorted Monsieur de la Rochefoucauld,
"I should resemble that dear statesman too closely, and should have no
reason for making war upon him. And so I try to keep myself posted on
everything."
"Even the secrets of your allies, if they have any?"
"You used a word then which might be construed to your disadvantage, if
it should be overheard,--'secrets.' So that journey and that meeting
were secrets, were they?"
"Let us understand each other, Monsieur le Duc, for you are no more
than half right. The meeting was an accident. The journey was a secret,
yes, and a woman's secret too, for it was known to none but Madame la
Princesse and myself."
The duke smiled. This sturdy defence made him sharpen up his own wits.
"And to Lenet," he said, "and Richon, and Madame de Tourville, to say
nothing of a certain Vicomte de Cambes, whose name I heard for the
first time in connection with this matter. To be sure, as he is your
brother, you might tell me that the secret was all in the family."
Claire began to laugh, to avoid irritating the duke, whose smile was
beginning to show signs of vanishing.
"Do you know one thing, duke?" said she.
"No, tell it me; and if it is a secret, madame, I promise to be as
discreet as yourself, and tell it to no one but my staff."
"Do as you please about that; I ask nothing better, although I thereby
run the risk of making an enemy of a great princess, whose hatred would
be no pleasant thing to incur."
The duke blushed imperceptibly.
"Well, what is this secret?" said he.
"Do you know whom Madame la Princesse selected for my companion in the
journey I was asked to undertake?"
"No,"
"Yourself."
"Indeed! I remember that Madame la Princesse asked me if I could act as
escort to a person returning from Libourne to Paris."
"And you refused?"
"I was unavoidably detained in Poitou by important business."
"Yes, you had to receive couriers from Madame de Longueville."
La Rochefoucauld gazed earnestly at the viscountess, as if to search
the lowest depths of her heart before the trace of her words had
disappeared, and said, riding closer to her side: "Do you reproach me
for it?"
"Not at all; your heart is so well disposed in that place, Monsieur
le Duc, that you have a right to expect compliments rather than
reproaches."
"Ah!" said the duke, with an involuntary sigh; "would to God I had made
that journey with you!"
"Why so?"
"Because then I should not have gone to Saumur," he replied, in a tone
which indicated that he had another response ready, which he did not
dare, or did not choose, to make.
"Richon must have told him everything," thought Claire.
"However, I do not repine at my private ill-fortune, since it has
resulted to the public good."
"What do you mean, monsieur? I do not understand you."
"I mean that if I had been with you, you would not have fallen in with
the officer, who happened, so clear it is that Heaven is on our side,
to be the same one sent by Mazarin to Chantilly."
"Ah! Monsieur le Duc," said Claire, in a voice choked by the memory of
the harrowing scene so recently enacted, "do not jest concerning that
unfortunate officer!"
"Why? Is his person sacred?"
"Now, yes; for to noble hearts great misfortunes are no less sanctified
than great good-fortune. That officer may be dead at this hour,
monsieur, and he will have paid for his error, or his devotion, with
his life."
"Dead with love?" queried the duke.
"Let us speak seriously, monsieur; you are well aware that if I give
my heart away it will not be to people whom I meet on the high-road. I
tell you that the unhappy man was arrested this very day by order of
Monsieur de Mazarin."
"Arrested!" exclaimed the duke. "How do you know that?--still by
accident?"
"_Mon Dieu_, yes! I was passing through Jaulnay--Do you know Jaulnay,
monsieur?"
"Perfectly; I received a sword-cut in the shoulder there. You were
passing through Jaulnay. Why, wasn't that the village where, as the
story goes--?"
"Let us have done with the story, Monsieur le Duc," replied Claire,
blushing. "I was passing through Jaulnay, as I tell you, when I saw a
party of armed men halting with a prisoner in their midst; the prisoner
was he."
"He, do you say? Ah! madame, take care, you said _he!_"
"The officer, I mean. _Mon Dieu!_ Monsieur le Duc, how deep you are!
A truce to your subtleties, and if you have no pity for the poor
fellow--"
"Pity! I!" cried the duke. "In God's name, madame, have I time to have
pity, especially for people I do not know?"
Claire cast a sidelong glance at La Rochefoucauld's pale face, and his
thin lips curled by a joyless smile, and she shuddered involuntarily.
"Madame," he continued, "I would be glad to have the honor of escorting
you farther; but I must throw a garrison into Montrond, so forgive me
if I leave you. Twenty gentlemen, more fortunate than I, will look to
your safety until you have joined Madame la Princesse, to whom I beg
you to present my respects."
"Are you not going to Bordeaux?" Claire asked.
"No; just now I am on my way to Turenne to join Monsieur de Bouillon.
We are engaged in a contest of courtesy to see which shall not be
general; he's a doughty antagonist, but I am determined to get the
better of him, and remain his lieutenant."
Upon that the duke ceremoniously saluted the viscountess and rode
slowly away in the direction taken by his little band of horsemen.
Claire followed him with her eyes, murmuring:--
"His pity! I invoked his pity! He spoke the truth; he has no time to
feel pity."
A group of horsemen left the main body and came toward her, while the
rest rode into the woods near by.
Behind them, with his reins over his horse's neck, La Rochefoucauld
rode dreamily along, the man of the false look and the white hands, who
wrote at the head of his memoirs this sentence, which sounds strangely
enough in the mouth of a moral philosopher:--
"I think that one should content himself with making a show of
compassion, but should be careful to have none. It is a passion which
serves no useful purpose within a well-constituted mind, which serves
only to weaken the heart, and which should be left to the common
people, who, as they never do anything by reason, need to have passion
in order to do anything."
Two days later Madame de Cambes was in attendance upon Madame la
Princesse.