Chapter XXXIV. The Promenade by Torchlight.
Saint-Aignan, delighted with what he had just heard, and rejoiced atwhat the future foreshadowed for him, bent his steps towards De Guiche'stwo rooms. He who, a quarter of an hour previously, would hardlyyield up his own rooms for a million francs, was now ready to expenda million, if it were necessary, upon the acquisition of the two happyrooms he coveted so eagerly. But he did not meet with so many obstacles.M. de Guiche did not yet know where he was to lodge, and, besides,was still too far ill to trouble himself about his lodgings; and soSaint-Aignan obtained De Guiche's two rooms without difficulty. As forM. Dangeau, he was so immeasurably delighted, that he did not even givehimself the trouble to think whether Saint-Aignan had any particularreason for removing. Within an hour after Saint-Aignan's new resolution,he was in possession of the two rooms; and ten minutes later Malicorneentered, followed by the upholsterers. During this time, the king askedfor Saint-Aignan; the valet ran to his late apartments and found M.Dangeau there; Dangeau sent him on to De Guiche's, and Saint-Aignan wasfound there; but a little delay had of course taken place, and the kinghad already exhibited once or twice evident signs of impatience, whenSaint-Aignan entered his royal master's presence, quite out of breath.
"You, too, abandon me, then," said Louis XIV., in a similar toneof lamentation to that with which Caesar, eighteen hundred yearspreviously, had pronounced the _Et tu quoque_.
"Sire, I am far from abandoning you, for, on the contrary, I am busilyoccupied in changing my lodgings."
"What do you mean? I thought you had finished moving three days ago."
"Yes, sire. But I don't find myself comfortable where I am, so I amgoing to change to the opposite side of the building."
"Was I not right when I said you were abandoning me?" exclaimed theking. "Oh! this exceeds all endurance. But so it is: there was onlyone woman for whom my heart cared at all, and all my family is leaguedtogether to tear her from me; and my friend, to whom I confided mydistress, and who helped me to bear up under it, has become weariedof my complaints and is going to leave me without even asking mypermission."
Saint-Aignan began to laugh. The king at once guessed there must be somemystery in this want of respect. "What is it?" cried the king, full ofhope.
"This, sire, that the friend whom the king calumniates is going to tryif he cannot restore to his sovereign the happiness he has lost."
"Are you going to let me see La Valliere?" said Louis XIV.
"I cannot say so, positively, but I hope so."
"How--how?--tell me that, Saint-Aignan. I wish to know what your projectis, and to help you with all my power."
"Sire," replied Saint-Aignan, "I cannot, even myself, tell very well howI must set about attaining success; but I have every reason to believethat from to-morrow--"
"To-morrow, do you say! What happiness! But why are you changing yourrooms?"
"In order to serve your majesty to better advantage."
"How can your moving serve me?"
"Do you happen to know where the two rooms destined for De Guiche aresituated?"
"Yes."
"Well, your majesty now knows where I am going."
"Very likely; but that does not help me."
"What! is it possible that you do not understand, sire, that aboveDe Guiche's lodgings are two rooms, one of which is MademoiselleMontalais's, and the other--"
"La Valliere's, is it not so, Saint-Aignan? Oh! yes, yes. It is abrilliant idea, Saint-Aignan, a true friend's idea, a poet's idea. Bybringing me nearer her from whom the world seems to unite to separateme--you are far more than Pylades was for Orestes, or Patroclus forAchilles."
"Sire," said Aignan, with a smile, "I question whether, if your majestywere to know my projects in their full extent, you would continue topronounce such a pompous eulogium upon me. Ah! sire, I know how verydifferent are the epithets which certain Puritans of the court willnot fail to apply to me when they learn of what I intend to do for yourmajesty."
"Saint-Aignan, I am dying with impatience; I am in a perfect fever; Ishall never be able to wait until to-morrow--to-morrow! why, to-morrowis an eternity!"
"And yet, sire, I shall require you, if you please, to go out presentlyand divert your impatience by a good walk."
"With you--agreed; we will talk about your projects, we will talk ofher."
"Nay, sire; I remain here."
"Whom shall I go out with, then?"
"With the queen and all the ladies of the court."
"Nothing shall induce me to do that, Saint-Aignan."
"And yet, sire, you must."
"_Must?_--no, no--a thousand times no! I will never again exposemyself to the horrible torture of being close to her, of seeing her, oftouching her dress as I pass by her, and yet not be able to say aword to her. No, I renounce a torture which you suppose will bring mehappiness, but which consumes and eats away my very life; to see her inthe presence of strangers, and not to tell her that I love her, when mywhole being reveals my affection and betrays me to every one; no! I havesworn never to do it again, and I will keep my oath."
"Yet, sire, pray listen to me for a moment."
"I will listen to nothing, Saint-Aignan."
"In that case, I will continue; it is most urgent, sire--pray understandme, it is of the greatest importance--that Madame and her maids of honorshould be absent for two hours from the palace."
"I cannot understand your meaning at all, Saint-Aignan."
"It is hard for me to give my sovereign directions what to do; but underthe circumstances I do give you directions, sire; and either a huntingor a promenade party must be got up."
"But if I were to do what you wish, it would be a caprice, a mere whim.In displaying such an impatient humor I show my whole court that I haveno control over my own feelings. Do not people already say that I amdreaming of the conquest of the world, but that I ought previously tobegin by achieving a conquest over myself?"
"Those who say so, sire, are as insolent as they would like to bethought facetious; but whomever they may be, if your majesty prefersto listen to them, I have nothing further to say. In such a case,that which we have fixed to take place to-morrow must be postponedindefinitely."
"Nay, Saint-Aignan, I will go out this evening--I will go by torchlightto Saint-Germain: I will breakfast there to-morrow, and will return toParis by three o'clock. Will that do?"
"Admirably."
"In that case I will set out this evening at eight o'clock."
"Your majesty has fixed upon the exact minute."
"And you positively will tell me nothing more?"
"It is because I have nothing more to tell you. Industry counts forsomething in this world, sire; but still, chance plays so importanta part in it that I have been accustomed to leave her the sidewalk,confident that she will manage so as to always take the street."
"Well, I abandon myself entirely to you."
"And you are quite right."
Comforted in this manner, the king went immediately to Madame, to whomhe announced the intended expedition. Madame fancied at the first momentthat she saw in this unexpectedly arranged party a plot of the king'sto converse with La Valliere, either on the road under cover of thedarkness, or in some other way, but she took especial care not to showany of her fancies to her brother-in-law, and accepted the invitationwith a smile upon her lips. She gave directions aloud that her maids ofhonor should accompany her, secretly intending in the evening to takethe most effectual steps to interfere with his majesty's attachment.Then, when she was alone, and at the very moment the poor lover, whohad issued orders for the departure, was reveling in the idea thatMademoiselle de la Valliere would form one of the party,--luxuriating inthe sad happiness persecuted lovers enjoy of realizing through thesense of sight alone all the transports of possession,--Madame, whowas surrounded by her maids of honor, was saying:--"Two ladies willbe enough for me this evening, Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente andMademoiselle de Montalais."
La Valliere had
anticipated her own omission, and was prepared for it:but persecution had rendered her courageous, and she did not give Madamethe pleasure of seeing on her face the impression of the shock her heartreceived. On the contrary, smiling with that ineffable gentleness whichgave an angelic expression to her features--"In that case, Madame, Ishall be at liberty this evening, I suppose?" she said.
"Of course."
"I shall be able to employ it, then, in progressing with that piece oftapestry which your highness has been good enough to notice, and which Ihave already had the honor of offering to you."
And having made a respectful obeisance she withdrew to her ownapartment; Mesdemoiselles de Tonnay-Charente and de Montalais did thesame. The rumor of the intended promenade soon spread all over thepalace; ten minutes afterwards Malicorne learned Madame's resolution,and slipped under Montalais's door a note, in the following terms:
"L. V. must positively pass the night the night with Madame."
Montalais, in pursuance of the compact she had entered into, began byburning the letter, and then sat down to reflect. Montalais was a girlfull of expedients, and so she very soon arranged her plan. Towards fiveo'clock, which was the hour for her to repair to Madame's apartment, shewas running across the courtyard, and had reached within a dozen pacesof a group of officers, when she uttered a cry, fell gracefully onone knee, rose again, with difficulty, and walked on limpingly. Thegentlemen ran forward to her assistance; Montalais had sprained herfoot. Faithful to the discharge of her duty, she insisted, however,notwithstanding her accident, upon going to Madame's apartments.
"What is the matter, and why do you limp so?" she inquired; "I mistookyou for La Valliere."
Montalais related how it had happened, that in hurrying on, in order toarrive as quickly as possible, she had sprained her foot. Madame seemedto pity her, and wished to have a surgeon sent for immediately, butshe, assuring her that there was nothing really serious in the accident,said: "My only regret, Madame, is, that it will preclude my attendanceon you, and I should have begged Mademoiselle de la Valliere to take myplace with your royal highness, but--" seeing that Madame frowned, sheadded--"I have not done so."
"Why did you not do so?" inquired Madame.
"Because poor La Valliere seemed so happy to have her liberty for awhole evening and night too, that I did not feel courageous enough toask her to take my place."
"What, is she so delighted as that?" inquired madame, struck by thesewords.
"She is wild with delight; she, who is always so melancholy, was singinglike a bird. Besides, your highness knows how much she detests going out,and also that her character has a spice of wildness in it."
"So!" thought Madame, "this extreme delight hardly seems natural to me."
"She has already made all her preparations for dining in her own room_tete-a-tete_ with one of her favorite books. And then, as your highnesshas six other young ladies who would be delighted to accompany you, Idid not make my proposal to La Valliere." Madame did not say a word inreply.
"Have I acted properly?" continued Montalais, with a slight flutteringof the heart, seeing the little success that seemed to attend the _rusede guerre_ which she had relied upon with so much confidence that shehad not thought it even necessary to try and find another. "Does Madameapprove of what I have done?" she continued.
Madame was reflecting that the king could very easily leaveSaint-Germain during the night, and that, as it was only four leaguesand a half from Paris to Saint-Germain, he might readily be in Parisin an hour's time. "Tell me," she said, "whether La Valliere, when sheheard of your accident, offered at least to bear you company?"
"Oh! she does not yet know of my accident; but even did she know of it,I most certainly should not ask her to do anything that might interferewith her own plans. I think she wishes this evening to realize quietlyby herself that amusement of the late king, when he said to M. deCinq-Mars, 'Let us amuse ourselves by doing nothing, and makingourselves miserable.'"
Madame felt convinced that some mysterious love adventure lurked behindthis strong desire for solitude. The secret _might_ be Louis's returnduring the night; it could not be doubted any longer La Valliere hadbeen informed of his intended return, and that was the reason for herdelight at having to remain behind at the Palais Royal. It was a plansettled and arranged beforehand.
"I will not be their dupe though," said Madame, and she took a decisivestep. "Mademoiselle de Montalais," she said, "will you have thegoodness to inform your friend, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, that Iam exceedingly sorry to disarrange her projects of solitude, but thatinstead of becoming _ennuyee_ by remaining behind alone as she wished,she will be good enough to accompany us to Saint-Germain and get_ennuyee_ there."
"Ah! poor La Valliere," said Montalais, compassionately, but with herheart throbbing with delight; "oh, Madame, could there not be somemeans--"
"Enough," said Madame; "I desire it. I prefer Mademoiselle la Baume leBlanc's society to that of any one else. Go, and send her to me, andtake care of your foot."
Montalais did not wait for the order to be repeated; she returned to herroom, almost forgetting to feign lameness, wrote an answer to Malicorne,and slipped it under the carpet. The answer simply said: "She shall." ASpartan could not have written more laconically.
"By this means," thought Madame, "I will look narrowly after all on theroad; she shall sleep near me during the night, and his majesty mustbe very clever if he can exchange a single word with Mademoiselle de laValliere."
La Valliere received the order to set off with the same indifferentgentleness with which she had received the order to play Cinderella.But, inwardly, her delight was extreme, and she looked upon this changein the princess's resolution as a consolation which Providence had senther. With less penetration than Madame possessed, she attributed allto chance. While every one, with the exception of those in disgrace,of those who were ill, and those who were suffering from sprains, werebeing driven towards Saint-Germain, Malicorne smuggled his workman intothe palace in one of M. de Saint-Aignan's carriages, and led him intothe room corresponding to La Valliere's. The man set to work with awill, tempted by the splendid reward which had been promised him. As thevery best tools and implements had been selected from the reserve stockbelonging to the engineers attached to the king's household--and amongothers, a saw with teeth so sharp and well tempered that it was able,under water even, to cut through oaken joists as hard as iron--the workin question advanced very rapidly, and a square portion of the ceiling,taken from between two of the joists, fell into the arms of thedelighted Saint-Aignan, Malicorne, the workman, and a confidentialvalet, the latter being one brought into the world to see and heareverything, but to repeat nothing. In accordance with a new planindicated by Malicorne, the opening was effected in an angle of theroom--and for this reason. As there was no dressing-closet adjoining LaValliere's room, she had solicited, and had that very morning obtained,a large screen intended to serve as a partition. The screen that hadbeen allotted her was perfectly sufficient to conceal the opening, whichwould, besides, be hidden by all the artifices skilled cabinet-makerswould have at their command. The opening having been made, the workmanglided between the joists, and found himself in La Valliere's room. Whenthere, he cut a square opening in the flooring, and out of the boards hemanufactured a trap so accurately fitting into the opening that the mostpractised eye could hardly detect the necessary interstices made by itslines of juncture with the floor. Malicorne had provided for everything:a ring and a couple of hinges which had been bought for the purpose,were affixed to the trap-door; and a small circular stair-case, packedin sections, had been bought ready made by the industrious Malicorne,who had paid two thousand francs for it. It was higher than what wasrequired, but the carpenter reduced the number of steps, and itwas found to suit exactly. This staircase, destined to receive soillustrious a burden, was merely fastened to the wall by a couple ofiron clamps, and its base was fixed into the floor of the comte's roomby two iron pegs screwed down tightly, so that the king
, and all hiscabinet councilors too, might pass up and down the staircase without anyfear. Every blow of the hammer fell upon a thick pad or cushion, andthe saw was not used until the handle had been wrapped in wool, and theblade steeped in oil. The noisiest part of the work, moreover, had takenplace during the night and early in the morning, that is to say, whenLa Valliere and Madame were both absent. When, about two o'clock in theafternoon, the court returned to the Palais Royal, La Valliere went upinto her own room. Everything was in its proper place--not the smallestparticle of sawdust, not the smallest chip, was left to bear witness tothe violation of her domicile. Saint-Aignan, however, wishing to do hisutmost in forwarding the work, had torn his fingers and his shirttoo, and had expended no ordinary amount of perspiration in the king'sservice. The palms of his hands were covered with blisters, occasionedby his having held the ladder for Malicorne. He had, moreover, broughtup, one by one, the seven pieces of the staircase, each consisting oftwo steps. In fact, we can safely assert that, if the king had seen himso ardently at work, his majesty would have sworn an eternal gratitudetowards his faithful attendant. As Malicorne anticipated, the workmanhad completely finished the job in twenty-four hours; he receivedtwenty-four louis, and left, overwhelmed with delight, for he had gainedin one day as much as six months' hard work would have procured him.No one had the slightest suspicion of what had taken place in the roomunder Mademoiselle de la Valliere's apartment. But in the evening of thesecond day, at the very moment La Valliere had just left Madame's circleand returned to her own room, she heard a slight creaking sound in onecorner. Astonished, she looked to see whence it proceeded, and the noisebegan again. "Who is there?" she said, in a tone of alarm.
"It is I, Louise," replied the well-known voice of the king.
"You! you!" cried the young girl, who for a moment fancied herself underthe influence of a dream. "But where? You, sire?"
"Here," replied the king, opening one of the folds of the screen, andappearing like a ghost at the end of the room.
La Valliere uttered a loud cry, and fell trembling into an armchair, asthe king advanced respectfully towards her.
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