THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE.
Remembering the injunctions of the Countess, I avoided the
elaborately-carved Porte Cochère, under which a few of the Comte de
Treville's musketeers were loitering--so publicly and in defiance of
all scandal did Louis XIII. honour this lady with his favour; and
dismissing the fiacre at an angle of the road, I made a detour among
the trees of the lawn, and reached unseen the little private postern
door, which was hidden in a corner of the château, between a broad
round tower and a mass of clematis, that overhung a species of
bastion projecting into the fosse. The latter was now drained and
covered with the smoothest turf. Here I rang a bell, and on being
admitted by Antoine, was at once conducted by a private staircase to
the apartments of the Countess.
Antoine ushered me into a reception-room, which had hangings of
violet-coloured silk, starred with silver, and furniture of
walnut-wood, exquisitely carved. Through an arch, festooned with
yellow brocade on one side, I saw the sleeping apartment of the
Countess, and it was worthy of her beauty. The bed was of
richly-carved wood; the curtains were of rose-coloured velvet, and at
the head was framed in oak a curious Flemish painting of the loves of
Vertumnus and Pomona, taken from Ovid.
On the other side an archway, also festooned with yellow brocade,
revealed an antechamber, hung with saffron-coloured damask, and on an
ebony table a magnificent ruby-coloured Bohemian dessert-service, all
pencilled in gold; dishes of silver piled with fruit, and vases and
flasks of wine in iced coolers were arranged for a repast.
'The devil!' thought I; 'this is unlucky: madame expects some one,
for here is a dessert of love apples and wine of Artois!'
I observed myself in an opposite mirror, and was struck by the
splendour of my own appearance in the uniform of the guard; but my
brows were knit, and I said aloud--
'Absurd;--is this jealousy?'
'I hope not, my dear M. Blane, for love alone enters here,' said a
soft voice; and turning, I saw Madame d'Amboise, in a robe of blue
powdered with gold fleurs de lis, and looking so lovely that I was
almost bewildered, when kissing her white hand, which was smooth as
the finest velvet; then she smiled with that unmistakable air of
pleasure and coquetry, which always lights up the countenance of a
charming woman at the effect produced by her own beauty. Her
invariable attendant, the delicate girl with the golden hair,
withdrew abruptly as we met.
My first inquiry was for the Chevalier d'Ische, her brother.
'Oh! he is almost well, and is quite able to walk; but you--oh, you
are so welcome, M. Blane! and you charm me by this visit. I was
longing so much to hear the sound of your voice again. I see you
will make it your duty to please me.'
'Could I but hope to succeed.'
'Let not your heart fail.'
'It fails already, madame.'
'Because I am half in love with you.'
'Only half?' she exclaimed, merrily; 'oh, fie, M. Blane!'
'I dare not be more, madam,' I sighed, with a strange mixture of
fear, admiration, and perplexity; 'your beauty awes me.'
'You will become used to it in time; alas! it is the fate of beauty.
Come hither,' said she, motioning me to a seat beside her on the down
fauteuil, and smiling brilliantly, with a gratification that she
cared not to conceal. 'Look at these brilliants,' she added, opening
a scarlet case; 'they were brought to me this morning.'
'From Paris?'
'Jealous again! From the Louvre, by M. Boizenval.'
'The King's valet?'
'Yes; and he announced that the King might visit me to-day, hence
this collation, towards which your eyes wander so suspiciously. Oh,
poor jealous M. Arthur; but what think you of this necklace?'
'It would grace the neck of Anne of Austria; but you, madame, require
no aid from ornament.'
'Little fellow, you flatter me already! I have promised M. Poussin,
the painter, a sitting to-day; do you think that with these jewels
and with this dress I shall make a good picture?'
'Madame, you would make a divine picture in any dress,' said I,
carried away by the impulse of the moment.
'Mon Dieu, my boy, what a lover you will make! Who among the Garde
du Corps Ecossais will be like you?'
As I had now come to push my fortune in France and in Paris, that
place of vague and doubtful morality, I had--fortunately for
myself--at memory all the dialogues, proverbs, and 'metrical graces'
of the _French Schoole Maister_, published at Edinburgh in 1632; and
drew my ideas of continental morals from that small thick volume the
_Histoire de Palmerin d'Olive, Fils du Roy Florendos_, translated
from Castilian into French by Jean Maugin, _Paris, par Galliot du
Pre_, 1573: thus I was never without a ready answer whenever the
Countess threw down the glove. Moreover, I was young, and knew
little of the world; thus her great beauty and brilliance of manner
really dazzled me; and when I bent my eyes upon her, I am ashamed to
say, that it was, perhaps, with more of an imploring expression than
ever filled them when I attempted to pray; but I soon forgot to do
even that in Paris.
After some conversation of a half-bantering and half-complimentary
nature, with a strong tinge of love-making running through it all, I
begged that she would give me a little relic to wear, as a
remembrance of one who had been so kind to me. Taking from the
drawer of a buhl table a charming miniature of herself, set in gold,
she threw its ribbon round my neck, saying in a whisper close to my
ear, very close indeed,--
'Wear this for my sake--it is the work of Nicholas Poussin, and the
gift of a king. See his initial L, and a crown in diamonds, are on
the back. It may prove a talisman should you ever get into trouble;
for, alas! the court of France is surrounded by pitfalls and snares,
by lures and assassinations.'
'Ah, madame, that I might always be near you.'
'Why that wish?'
'Forgive me,' said I, kissing the miniature, and placing it in my
breast; 'but I feel myself attracted towards you by an irresistible
fatality, like--'
'Like what, mon bien amie?'
'Like a poor moth towards the light, which is to consume and destroy
it!' said I, with more real pathos and feeling than the object of
this emotion merited.
'A terrible simile! then, M. Arthur, you love me _wholly_ now?'
'Oh, Madame la Comtesse, you know not how devotedly.'
'Have you nothing better to tell me than all this farrago?' she asked
coquettishly.
'Could I tell you ought that was more interesting?' said I, dropping
my cheek upon her soft white shoulder.
'Interesting, mon Dieu! to yourself, perhaps.'
'And to you, too, dearest Countess; for you love me in return, I know
that you do.'
'Well, perhaps I do love you a little; but remember that my love is
like fortune.'
'How?'
'Fickle.'
'Alas! do not say so,' said I, clasping her waist. 'Do you remember
a promise you made me?'
'A promise?' she reiterated, casting down her long lashes, 'I do not
remember; what was it?'
'That you would give me one of your garters to wear, as M. de
Chatillon wears that of Mademoiselle de Guerchi round his sword-arm.'
'Yes; but, my poor boy, it would bring you to the wheel, perhaps.'
At that moment while my heart beat like lightning, and a flame seemed
before my eyes, the thick arras was hastily drawn aside, and the
visage of Antoine--the discreet Antoine--appeared, with the greatest
alarm depicted thereon; his eyes were arched to the roots of his hair.
'O Madame la Comtesse,' he exclaimed; 'le Roi! place pour sa Majesté
le Roi!'
We sprang from the fauteuil in consternation.
'Enter here,' said the Countess, opening the heavy-carved door of a
dark Flemish cabinet; 'quick, quick, M. Arthur.'
'Ah, Countess, if the King becomes tender!' said I.
'Well, what then?'
'I may not be able to control my anger.'
'What! you will re-enact Ravaillac here, and make my old cabinet
historical, like the house of M. Pontrain, the Notary, in the
Ferronerie,' said she, laughing; 'bah! you silly boy: Louis XIII.
tender! Mon Dieu, there is no danger of that. In, in; there are
times, like this, when one's dearest friends become, like his
Majesty, a decided bore!' and pushing me in with her pretty hands,
she locked the door, at which, to my great alarm, her little devil of
a dog continued to snuff and snort for a time.