THE RICHELIEU ELIXIR.
Always bearer of good news, the Duke of Richelieu called on the
Taverneys to announce that the King found a regiment for Captain Philip,
not a company.
The conversation was the same as usual among the three at dinner; the
duke spoke of his King, the baron of his daughter and Andrea of her
brother. Richelieu preached on the same text as the baron, and
enunciated his doctrine, so pagan, Parisian and courtier-like, that the
girl had to confess that her kind of virtue could not be the true one if
the nobles were to be the left-handed queens of the French monarchs whom
the two tempters did not hesitate to cite.
At seven, the duke rose from the table as he had an appointment at
Versailles, he said.
In going into the anteroom for his hat, he met Nicole who always had
something to do there when the duke called.
“I wish you would come along with me, little lass,” he said; “I should
like you to take a bouquet the Duchess of Noailles is getting ready for
my daughter the Countess of Egmont.”
Nicole courtseyed as the shepherdesses did in Rousseau’s comic operas.
Leaning on Nicole’s shoulder, he went down stairs, and when out on the
lawn with her, said:
“Little maid, can you tell me the name of the sweetheart Nicole Legay
has found--a well-turned gallant whom she used to welcome in Coq Heron
Street, and receives here in Versailles. He is a French Guards corporal
called--what do you say the name is?”
The girl was in hopes that the marshal did not know the name if he knew
everything else.
“Faith, tell me, my lord, since you know so much,” she said saucily.
“Beausire,” said the marshal: “and he is a beau already; whether he will
ever be a sire, I cannot say.”
Nicole clasped her hands in prudery which did not baffle the marshal.
“Pest take us!” he said: “making love appointments under the eaves of
Trianon: if Lady Noailles catches a whiff of this she will have Nicole
Legay sent to the Salpetriere House of Correction and Corporal Beausire
will have a row in the royal galleys.”
“Not if I have your grace’s protection.”
“Oh, that is granted. You will not be imprisoned and driven from the
place, but left free and enriched.”
“Oh, what must I do, my lord, tell me quick.”
“Mere child’s play.”
“Whom am I to do it for--my own good or your grace’s?”
“Zounds,” said the duke, eyeing her sharply, “what a sly puss you are!”
“Pray have done.”
“It is for your good,” he said plumply. “When Corporal Beausire comes to
keep his tryst---- ”
“At seven o’clock---- ”
“Exactly. Say to him: We are discovered; but I have a patron who will
save us both: you from the galleys, me from the jail. Let us be off.”
“Be off?”
“Since you love him, you will marry and be off,” said the duke.
“Love him, yes: but marry him? ha, ha, ha!” and the duke was stupefied
by the laugh.
Even at court he had not met many hussies as shameless as this.
Understanding the sly glance, he replied:
“In any case I will pay the expenses of this double journey.”
Nicole asked no more: as long as the excursion was paid for the rest
mattered not a jot.
“Do you know what you are thinking of,” said he quickly, for he was
beaten and he did not like to dwell at that point.
“Faith, I do not.”
“Why, the thought strikes you that your young mistress may wake up in
the night and call you. This would raise the alarm before you got well
away.”
“I never thought of that, but I do now, and that I had better stay.”
“Then Beausire will be caught and will expose you.”
“Never mind: Mdlle. Andrea is kind and will speak to the King, in whose
good graces she is, and he will pardon me my offense.”
The marshal bit his lip.
“I tell you that Nicole is a fool. Mdlle. Andrea is not in the King’s
good graces as deeply as you may suppose and I will have you locked up
where good graces have no effect in softening the straw bed or
shortening the whiplash.”
“Stay--How can my mistress be prevented from rising and ringing in the
night for Nicole? She might be up a dozen times.”
“Oh, troubled with my complaint, insomnia. She ought to take the remedy
I do: and if she would not, you could make her do it.”
“How could I make my mistress do anything, my lord?” inquired Nicole.
“It is the fashion to have an evening’s drink--orangeade or licorice
water---- ”
“My young lady has a glass of water by her bedside, sometimes with a
lump of sugar in it, or perfumed with orangewater, if her nerves are out
of order.”
“Wonderful, just like me,” said Richelieu, taking out a handful of
Exchequer notes. “If you were to put a couple of drops from my own
bottle which I hand you, the young lady would sleep all the night.”
“Good: and I will lock her in so that nobody can disturb her till the
morning.”
“No,” said Richelieu, quickly. “That is just what you must not do. Leave
the door ajar.”
He understood that the girl saw all the plot.
“Money for the flight--the phial for the sleep--but they lock the gates
and I have no key.”
“But I am a First Gentleman in Attendance on the King and have my
master-key.”
“How timely all falls in,” said Nicole; “it seems a whole calendar of
miracles. Adieu, my lord.”
Laughing in her sleeve, the traitress glided away in the dark.
“Again I succeed,” thought Richelieu: “but I must be getting old to be
rebuffed by this little imp. Never mind, if I come out the winner.”