Louise de la Valliere
Page 26
Chapter XXV. Despair.
As soon as the king was gone La Valliere raised herself from the ground,and stretched out her arms, as if to follow and detain him, but when,having violently closed the door, the sound of his retreating footstepscould be heard in the distance, she had hardly sufficient strengthleft to totter towards and fall at the foot of her crucifix. Thereshe remained, broken-hearted, absorbed, and overwhelmed by her grief,forgetful and indifferent to everything but her profound sorrow;--agrief she only vaguely realized--as though by instinct. In the midst ofthis wild tumult of thoughts, La Valliere heard her door open again; shestarted, and turned round, thinking it was the king who had returned.She was deceived, however, for it was Madame who appeared at thedoor. What did she now care for Madame! Again she sank down, her headsupported by her _prie-Dieu_ chair. It was Madame, agitated, angry,and threatening. But what was that to her? "Mademoiselle," said theprincess, standing before La Valliere, "this is very fine, I admit,to kneel and pray, and make a pretense of being religious; but howeversubmissive you may be in your address to Heaven, it is desirable thatyou should pay some little attention to the wishes of those who reignand rule here below."
La Valliere raised her head painfully in token of respect.
"Not long since," continued Madame, "a certain recommendation wasaddressed to you, I believe."
La Valliere's fixed and wild gaze showed how complete her forgetfulnessor ignorance was.
"The queen recommended you," continued Madame, "to conduct yourself insuch a manner that no one could be justified in spreading any reportsabout you."
La Valliere darted an inquiring look towards her.
"I will not," continued Madame, "allow my household, which is that ofthe first princess of the blood, to set an evil example to the court;you would be the cause of such an example. I beg you to understand,therefore, in the absence of any witness of your shame--for I do notwish to humiliate you--that you are from this moment at perfect libertyto leave, and that you can return to your mother at Blois."
La Valliere could not sink lower, nor could she suffer more than she hadalready suffered. Her countenance did not even change, but she remainedkneeling with her hands clasped, like the figure of the Magdalen.
"Did you hear me?" said Madame.
A shiver, which passed through her whole frame, was La Valliere's onlyreply. And as the victim gave no other signs of life, Madame left theroom. And then, her very respiration suspended, and her blood almostcongealed, as it were, in her veins, La Valliere by degrees felt thatthe pulsation of her wrists, her neck, and temples, began to throb moreand more painfully. These pulsations, as they gradually increased, soonchanged into a species of brain fever, and in her temporary deliriumshe saw the figures of her friends contending with her enemies, floatingbefore her vision. She heard, too, mingled together in her deafenedears, words of menace and words of fond affection; she seemed raised outof her existence as though it were upon the wings of a mighty tempest,and in the dim horizon of the path along which her delirium hurriedher, she saw the stone which covered her tomb upraised, and the grim,appalling texture of eternal night revealed to her distracted gaze. Butthe horror of the dream which possessed her senses faded away, and shewas again restored to the habitual resignation of her character. A rayof hope penetrated her heart, as a ray of sunlight streams into thedungeon of some unhappy captive. Her mind reverted to the journey fromFontainebleau, she saw the king riding beside her carriage, tellingher that he loved her, asking for her love in return, requiring her toswear, and himself to swear too, that never should an evening pass by,if ever a misunderstanding were to arise between them, without a visit,a letter, a sign of some kind, being sent, to replace the troubledanxiety of the evening with the calm repose of the night. It was theking who had suggested that, who had imposed a promise on her, and whohad sworn to it himself. It was impossible, therefore, she reasoned,that the king should fail in keeping the promise which he had himselfexacted from her, unless, indeed, Louis was a despot who enforced loveas he enforced obedience; unless, too, the king were so indifferentthat the first obstacle in his way was sufficient to arrest his furtherprogress. The king, that kind protector, who by a word, a singleword, could relieve her distress of mind, the king even joined herpersecutors. Oh! his anger could not possibly last. Now that he wasalone, he would be suffering all that she herself was a prey to. But hewas not tied hand and foot as she was; he could act, could move about,could come to her, while she could do nothing but wait. And the poorgirl waited and waited, with breathless anxiety--for she could notbelieve it possible that the king would not come.
It was now about half-past ten. He would either come to her, or write toher, or send some kind word by M. de Saint-Aignan. If he were to come,oh! how she would fly to meet him; how she would thrust aside thatexcess of delicacy which she now discovered was misunderstood; howeagerly she would explain: "It is not I who do not love you--it is thefault of others who will not allow me to love you." And then it must beconfessed that she reflected upon it, and also the more she reflected,Louis appeared to her to be less guilty. In fact, he was ignorant ofeverything. What must he have thought of the obstinacy with which sheremained silent? Impatient and irritable as the king was known to be, itwas extraordinary that he had been able to preserve his temper so long.And yet, had it been her own case, she undoubtedly would not have actedin such a manner; she would have understood--have guessed everything.Yes, but she was nothing but a poor simple-minded girl, and not agreat and powerful monarch. Oh! if he would but come, if he would butcome!--how eagerly she would forgive him for all he had just made hersuffer! how much more tenderly she would love him because she had socruelly suffered! And so she sat, with her head bent forward in eagerexpectation towards the door, her lips slightly parted, as if--andHeaven forgive her for the mental exclamation!--they were awaiting thekiss which the king's lips had in the morning so sweetly indicated, whenhe pronounced the word _love!_ If the king did not come, at least hewould write; it was a second chance; a chance less delightful certainlythan the other, but which would show an affection just as strong, onlymore timid in its nature. Oh! how she would devour his letter, how eagershe would be to answer it! and when the messenger who had brought it hadleft her, how she would kiss it, read it over and over again, press toher heart the lucky paper which would have brought her ease of mind,tranquillity, and perfect happiness. At all events, if the king did notcome, if the king did not write, he could not do otherwise than sendSaint-Aignan, or Saint-Aignan could not do otherwise than come of hisown accord. Even if it were a third person, how openly she would speakto him; the royal presence would not be there to freeze her words uponher tongue, and then no suspicious feeling would remain a moment longerin the king's heart.
Everything with La Valliere, heart and look, body and mind, wasconcentrated in eager expectation. She said to herself that there was anhour left in which to indulge hope; that until midnight struck, theking might come, or write or send; that at midnight only would everyexpectation vanish, every hope be lost. Whenever she heard any stir inthe palace, the poor girl fancied she was the cause of it; whenevershe heard any one pass in the courtyard below she imagined they weremessengers of the king coming to her. Eleven o'clock struck, then aquarter-past eleven; then half-past. The minutes dragged slowly onin this anxiety, and yet they seemed to pass too quickly. And now, itstruck a quarter to twelve. Midnight--midnight was near, the last, thefinal hope that remained. With the last stroke of the clock, the lastray of light seemed to fade away; and with the last ray faded her finalhope. And so, the king himself had deceived her; it was he who had beenthe first to fail in keeping the oath which he had sworn that very day;twelve hours only between his oath and his perjured vow; it was not long,alas! to have preserved the illusion. And so, not only did the king notlove her, but he despised her whom every one ill-treated, he despisedher to the extent even of abandoning her to the shame of an expulsionwhich was equivalent to having an ignominious sentence passed on her;and yet, it was he, t
he king himself, who was the first cause of thisignominy. A bitter smile, the only symptom of anger which during thislong conflict had passed across the angelic face, appeared upon herlips. What, in fact, now remained on earth for her, after the king waslost to her? Nothing. But Heaven still remained, and her thoughts flewthither. She prayed that the proper course for her to follow might besuggested. "It is from Heaven," she thought, "that I expect everything;it is from Heaven I ought to expect everything." And she looked at hercrucifix with a devotion full of tender love. "There," she said, "hangsbefore me a Master who never forgets and never abandons those whoneither forget nor abandon Him; it is to Him alone that we mustsacrifice ourselves." And, thereupon, could any one have gazed into therecesses of that chamber, they would have seen the poor despairing girladopt a final resolution, and determine upon one last plan in her mind.Then, as her knees were no longer able to support her, she graduallysank down upon the _prie-Dieu_, and with her head pressed against thewooden cross, her eyes fixed, and her respiration short and quick, shewatched for the earliest rays of approaching daylight. At two o'clockin the morning she was still in the same bewilderment of mind, or ratherthe same ecstasy of feeling. Her thoughts had almost ceased to holdcommunion with things of the world. And when she saw the pale violettints of early dawn visible over the roofs of the palace, and vaguelyrevealing the outlines of the ivory crucifix which she held embraced,she rose from the ground with a new-born strength, kissed the feet ofthe divine martyr, descended the staircase leading from the room, andwrapped herself from head to foot in a mantle as she went along. Shereached the wicket at the very moment the guard of the musketeers openedthe gate to admit the first relief-guard belonging to one of the Swissregiments. And then, gliding behind the soldiers, she reached the streetbefore the officer in command of the patrol had even thought of askingwho the young girl was who was making her escape from the palace at soearly an hour.