DECIDEDLY THE FAMILY BEGINS TO SETTLE DOWN.
Whatever the regent might say, the Duchesse de Berry was his favorite
daughter. At seven years of age she had been seized with a disease which
all the doctors declared to be fatal, and when they had abandoned her,
her father, who had studied medicine, took her in hand himself, and
succeeded in saving her.
From that time the regent's affection for his daughter became almost a
weakness. He allowed the haughty and self-willed child the most perfect
liberty; her education was neglected, but this did not prevent Louis
XIV. from choosing her as a wife for his grandson the Duc de Berry.
It is well known how death at once struck a triple blow at the royal
posterity, and within a few years carried off the dauphin, the Duc and
Duchesse de Bourgoyne and the Duc de Berry.
Left a widow at twenty years of age, loving her father almost as
tenderly as he loved her, and having to choose between the society of
Versailles and that of the Palais Royal, the Duchesse de Berry, young,
beautiful, and fond of pleasure, had quickly decided. She took part in
all the fetes, the pleasures and follies of her father.
The Duc d'Orleans, in his increasing fondness for his daughter--who
already had six hundred thousand francs a year--allowed her four hundred
thousand francs more from his private fortune. He gave up the Luxembourg
to her, gave her a bodyguard, and at length, to the scandal of those who
advocated the old forms of etiquette, he merely shrugged his shoulders
when the Duchesse de Berry passed through Paris preceded by cymbals and
trumpets, and only laughed when she received the Venetian ambassador on
a throne, raised on three steps, which nearly embroiled France with the
republic of Venice.
About this time the Duchesse de Berry took a fancy to fall in love with
the Chevalier de Riom.
The Chevalier de Riom was a nephew or grand-nephew of the Duc de Lauzun,
who came to Paris in 1715 to seek his fortune, and found it at the
Luxembourg. Introduced to the princess by Madame de Mouchy, he soon
established the same influence over her as his uncle, the Duc de Lauzun,
had exercised over La Grande Mademoiselle fifty years before, and was
soon established as her lover, supplanting Lahaie, who was sent on an
embassy to Denmark.
The duchess had the singular moderation of never having had more than
two lovers; Lahaie, whom she had never avowed, and Riom, whom she
proclaimed aloud.
This was not the true cause of the malice with which the princess was
pursued; it arose rather from the previous offenses of her passage
through Paris, the reception of the ambassadors, her bodyguard, and her
assumptions. The duke himself was indignant at Riom's influence over his
daughter. Riom had been brought up by the Duc de Lauzun, who in the
morning had crushed the hand of the Princesse de Monaco with the heel of
the boot which, in the evening, he made the daughter of Gaston
d'Orleans pull off, and who had given his nephew the following
instruction, which Riom had fully carried out.
"The daughters of France," said he, "must be treated with a high hand;"
and Riom, trusting to his uncle's experience, had so well schooled the
Duchesse de Berry that she scarcely dared to give a fete without his
permission.
The duke took as strong a dislike to Riom as his careless character
allowed him to take to any one, and, under pretext of serving the
duchess, had given him a regiment, then the government of Cognac, then
the order to retire to his government, which almost made his favors look
like disfavors and disgrace.
The duchess was not deceived; she went to her father, begged, prayed,
and scolded, but in vain; and she went away threatening the duke with
her anger, and declaring that Riom should not go.
The duke's only reply was to repeat his orders for Riom's departure the
next day, and Riom had respectfully promised to obey.
The same day, which was the one preceding that on which our story opens,
Riom had ostensibly set out, and Dubois himself had told the duke that
he had left for Cognac at nine o'clock.
Meanwhile the duke had not again seen his daughter; thus, when he spoke
of going to finish with her, it was rather a pardon than a quarrel that
he went to seek. Dubois had not been duped by this pretended resolution;
but Riom was gone, and that was all he wanted; he hoped to slip in some
new personage who should efface all memory of Riom, who was to be sent
to join the Marechal de Berwick in Spain.
The carriage stopped before the Luxembourg, which was lighted as usual.
The duke ascended the steps with his usual celerity, Dubois remained in
a corner of the carriage. Presently the duke appeared at the door with a
disappointed air.
"Ah, monseigneur," said Dubois, "are you refused admittance?"
"No, the duchesse is not here."
"Where, then--at the Carmelites?"
"No, at Meudon."
"At Meudon, in February, and in such weather; what can she be doing
there?"
"It is easy to know."
"How?"
"Let us go to Meudon."
"To Meudon!" said the regent, jumping into the carriage; "I allow you
five-and-twenty minutes to get there."
"I would humbly beg to remind monseigneur," said the coachman, "that the
horses have already gone ten leagues."
"Kill them, but be at Meudon in five-and-twenty minutes."
There was no reply to be made to such an order; the coachman whipped his
horses, and the noble animals set out at as brisk a pace as if they had
just left the stable.
Throughout the drive Dubois was silent, and the regent thoughtful; there
was nothing on the route to arrest the attention of either, and they
arrived at Meudon full of contradictory reflections.
This time both alighted; Dubois, thinking the interview might be long,
was anxious to find a more comfortable waiting-place than a carriage.
At the door they found a Swiss in full livery--he stopped them--the duke
made himself known.
"Pardon," said the Swiss, "I did not know that monseigneur was
expected."
"Expected or not, I am here; send word to the princess."
"Monseigneur is to be at the ceremony?" asked the Swiss, who seemed
embarrassed.
"Yes, of course," put in Dubois, stopping the duke, who was about to ask
what ceremony; "and I also."
"Then shall I lead monseigneur at once to the chapel?"
"To the chapel?" asked the duke.
"Yes; for the ceremony is already commenced."
"Ah, Dubois," said the duke, "is she also going to take the veil?"
"Monseigneur," said Dubois, "I should rather say she is going to be
married."
"Pardieu!" exclaimed the regent, "that would crown all;" and he darted
toward the staircase, followed by Dubois.
"Does not monseigneur wish me to guide him?" asked the Swiss.
"It is needless," cried the regent; "I know the way."
Indeed--with an agility surprising in so corpulent a man--the regent
darted through the rooms and corridors, and arrived at the door of the
chapel, which appeared to be closed, but yielded to the first touch.
Dubois was right.
Riom, who had returned secretly, was on his knees with the princess,
before the private chaplain of the Luxembourg, while M. de Pons, Riom's
relative, and the Marquis de la Rochefoucauld, captain of the princess's
guard, held the canopy over their heads; Messrs. de Mouchy and de Lauzun
stood, one by the duchess and the other by Riom.
"Certainly fortune is against us, monseigneur," said Dubois; "we are
five minutes too late."
"Mordieu!" cried the duke, exasperated, "we will see."
"Chut," said Dubois; "I cannot permit sacrilege. If it were any use, I
do not say; but this would be mere folly."
"Are they married, then?" asked the duke, drawing back.
"So much married, monseigneur, that the devil himself cannot unmarry
them, without the assistance of the pope."
"I will write to Rome!"
"Take care, monseigneur; do not waste your influence; you will want it
all, so get me made a cardinal."
"But," exclaimed the regent, "such a marriage is intolerable."
"Mesalliances are in fashion," said Dubois; "there is nothing else
talked of--Louis XIV. made a mesalliance in marrying Madame de
Maintenon, to whom you pay a pension as his widow--La Grande
Mademoiselle made a mesalliance in marrying the Duc de Lauzun--you did
so in marrying Mademoiselle de Blois, so much so, indeed, that when you
announced the marriage to your mother, the princess palatine, she
replied by a blow. Did not I do the same when I married the daughter of
a village schoolmaster? After such good examples, why should not your
daughter do so in her turn?"
"Silence, demon," said the regent.
"Besides," continued Dubois, "the Duchesse de Berry's passion began to
be talked about, and this will quiet the talk; for it will be known all
through Paris to-morrow. Decidedly, monseigneur, your family begins to
settle down."
The Duc d'Orleans uttered an oath, to which Dubois replied by a laugh,
which Mephistopheles might have envied.
"Silence!" cried a Swiss, who did not know who it was that was making a
noise, and did not wish the pious exhortation of the chaplain to be
lost.
"Silence, monseigneur," repeated Dubois; "you are disturbing the
ceremony."
"If we are not silent," replied the duke, "the next thing they will do
will be to turn us out."
"Silence!" repeated the Swiss, striking the flagstone with his halberd,
while the Duchesse de Berry sent M. de Mouchy to learn who was causing
the disturbance.
M. de Mouchy obeyed the orders of the duchess, and perceiving two
persons who appeared to be concealing themselves in the shade, he
approached them.
"Who is making this noise?" said he; "and who gave you permission to
enter this chapel?"
"One who has a great mind to send you all out by the window," replied
the regent, "but who will content himself at present with begging you to
order M. de Riom to set out at once for Cognac, and to intimate to the
Duchesse de Berry that she had better absent herself from the Palais
Royal."
The regent went out, signing to Dubois to follow; and, leaving M. de
Mouchy bewildered at his appearance, returned to the Palais Royal.
That evening the regent wrote a letter, and ringing for a valet:
"Take care that this letter is dispatched by an express courier
to-morrow morning, and is delivered only to the person to whom it is
addressed."
That person was Madame Ursule, Superior of the Ursuline Convent at
Clisson.