Chapter LIII. A Domiciliary Visit.
The princess, preceding Raoul, led him through the courtyard towardsthat part of the building La Valliere inhabited, and, ascending the samestaircase which Raoul himself had ascended that very morning, she pausedat the door of the room in which the young man had been so strangelyreceived by Montalais. The opportunity was remarkably well chosen tocarry out the project Madame Henrietta had conceived, for the chateauwas empty. The king, the courtiers, and the ladies of the court, hadset off for Saint-Germain; Madame Henrietta was the only one who knewof Bragelonne's return, and thinking over the advantages which might bedrawn from this return, she had feigned indisposition in order to remainbehind. Madame was therefore confident of finding La Valliere's room andSaint-Aignan's apartment perfectly empty. She took a pass-key fromher pocket and opened the door of her maid of honor's apartment.Bragelonne's gaze was immediately fixed upon the interior of the room,which he recognized at once; and the impression which the sight ofit produced upon him was torture. The princess looked at him, and herpracticed eye at once detected what was passing in the young man'sheart.
"You asked for proofs," she said; "do not be astonished, then, if I giveyou them. But if you do not think you have courage enough to confrontthem, there is still time to withdraw."
"I thank you, Madame," said Bragelonne; "but I came here to beconvinced. You promised to convince me,--do so."
"Enter, then," said Madame, "and shut the door behind you."
Bragelonne obeyed, and then turned towards the princess, whom heinterrogated by a look.
"You know where you are, I suppose?" inquired Madame Henrietta.
"Everything leads me to believe I am in Mademoiselle de la Valliere'sroom."
"You are."
"But I would observe to your highness, that this room is a room, and isnot a proof."
"Wait," said the princess, as she walked to the foot of the bed, foldedup the screen into its several compartments, and stooped down towardsthe floor. "Look here," she continued; "stoop down and lift up thistrap-door yourself."
"A trap-door!" said Raoul, astonished; for D'Artagnan's words beganto return to his memory, and he had an indistinct recollection thatD'Artagnan had made use of the same word. He looked, but uselessly,for some cleft or crevice which might indicate an opening or a ring toassist in lifting up the planking.
"Ah, I forgot," said Madame Henrietta, "I forgot the secret spring; thefourth plank of the flooring,--press on the spot where you will observea knot in the wood. Those are the instructions; press, vicomte! press, Isay, yourself."
Raoul, pale as death, pressed his finger on the spot which had beenindicated to him; at the same moment the spring began to work, and thetrap rose of its own accord.
"It is ingenious enough, certainly," said the princess; "and one can seethat the architect foresaw that a woman's hand only would have to makeuse of this spring, for see how easily the trap-door opened withoutassistance."
"A staircase!" cried Raoul.
"Yes, and a very pretty one, too," said Madame Henrietta. "See, vicomte,the staircase has a balustrade, intended to prevent the falling of timidpersons, who might be tempted to descend the staircase; and I will riskmyself on it accordingly. Come, vicomte, follow me!"
"But before following you, madame, may I ask where this staircase leadsto?"
"Ah, true; I forgot to tell you. You know, perhaps, that formerly M. deSaint-Aignan lived in the very next apartment to the king?"
"Yes, Madame, I am aware of that; that was the arrangement, at least,before I left; and more than once I had the honor of visiting hisrooms."
"Well, he obtained the king's leave to change his former convenientand beautiful apartment for the two rooms to which this staircase willconduct us, and which together form a lodging for him half the size, andat ten times greater the distance from the king,--a close proximity towhom is by no means disdained, in general, by the gentlemen belonging tothe court."
"Very good, Madame," returned Raoul; "but go on, I beg, for I do notunderstand yet."
"Well, then it accidentally happened," continued the princess, "that M.de Saint-Aignan's apartment is situated underneath the apartments ofmy maids of honor, and by a further coincidence, exactly underneath theroom of La Valliere."
"But what was the motive of this trap-door and this staircase?"
"That I cannot tell you. Would you like to go down to Monsieur deSaint-Aignan's rooms? Perhaps we shall be able to find the solution ofthe enigma there."
And Madame set the example by going down herself, while Raoul, sighingdeeply, followed her. At every step Bragelonne took, he advanced furtherinto that mysterious apartment which had witnessed La Valliere's sighsand still retained the perfume of her presence. Bragelonne fancied heperceived, as he inhaled the atmosphere, that the young girl must havepassed through. Then succeeded to these emanations of herself, which heregarded as invisible though certain proofs, flowers she preferred toall others--books of her own selection. If Raoul retained a single doubton the subject, it would have vanished at the secret harmony of tastesand connection of the mind with the ordinary objects of life. LaValliere, in Bragelonne's eyes, was present there in each article offurniture, in the color of the hangings, in all that surrounded him.Dumb, and now completely overwhelmed, there was nothing further for himnow to learn, and he followed his pitiless conductress as blindly asthe culprit follows the executioner; while Madame, as cruel as women ofoverstrung temperaments generally are, did not spare him the slightestdetail. But it must be admitted that, notwithstanding the kind of apathyinto which he had fallen, none of these details, even had he been leftalone, would have escaped him. The happiness of the woman who loves,when that happiness is derived from a rival, is a living torture fora jealous man; but for a jealous man such as Raoul was, for one whoseheart for the first time in its existence was being steeped in gall andbitterness, Louise's happiness was in reality an ignominious death, adeath of body and soul. He guessed all; he fancied he could see them,with their hands clasped in each other's, their faces drawn closetogether, and reflected, side by side, in loving proximity, and theygazed upon the mirrors around them--so sweet an occupation for lovers,who, as they thus see themselves twice over, imprint the picture stillmore deeply on their memories. He could guess, too, the stolen kisssnatched as they separated from each other's loved society. The luxury,the studied elegance, eloquent of the perfection of indolence, ofease; the extreme care shown, either to spare the loved object everyannoyance, or to occasion her a delightful surprise; that might andmajesty of love multiplied by the majesty and might of royalty itself,seemed like a death-blow to Raoul. If there be anything which can in anyway assuage or mitigate the tortures of jealousy, it is the inferiorityof the man who is preferred to yourself; whilst, on the very contrary,if there be one anguish more bitter than another, a misery for whichlanguage lacks a word, it is the superiority of the man preferred toyourself, superior, perhaps, in youth, beauty, grace. It is in suchmoments as these that Heaven almost seems to have taken part against thedisdained and rejected lover.
One final pang was reserved for poor Raoul. Madame Henrietta lifted up asilk curtain, and behind the canvas he perceived La Valliere's portrait.Not only the portrait of La Valliere, but of La Valliere radiant withyouth, beauty, and happiness, inhaling life and enjoyment at every pore,because at eighteen years of age love itself is life.
"Louise!" murmured Bragelonne,--"Louise! is it true, then? Oh, you havenever loved me, for never have you looked at me in that manner." And hefelt as if his heart were crushed within his bosom.
Madame Henrietta looked at him, almost envious of his extreme grief,although she well knew there was nothing to envy in it, and that sheherself was as passionately loved by De Guiche as Louise by Bragelonne.Raoul interpreted Madame Henrietta's look.
"Oh, forgive me, forgive me, Madame; in your presence I know I ought tohave greater self-control. But Heaven grant that you may never be struckby similar misery to that which crushes me at this m
oment, for you arebut a woman, and would not be able to endure so terrible an affliction.Forgive me, I again entreat you, Madame; I am but a man without rank orposition, while you belong to a race whose happiness knows no bounds,whose power acknowledges no limit."
"Monsieur de Bragelonne," replied Henrietta, "a mind such as your meritsall the consideration and respect which a queen's heart even can bestow.Regard me as your friend, monsieur; and as such, indeed, I would notallow your whole life to be poisoned by perfidy, and covered withridicule. It was I, indeed, who, with more courage than any of yourpretended friends,--I except M. de Guiche,--was the cause of your returnfrom London; it is I, also, who now give you the melancholy proofs,necessary, however, for your cure if you are a lover with courage in hisheart, and not a weeping Amadis. Do not thank me; pity me, even, and donot serve the king less faithfully than you have done."
Raoul smiled bitterly. "Ah! true, true; I was forgetting that; the kingis my master."
"Your liberty, nay, your very life, is in danger."
A steady, penetrating look informed Madame Henrietta that she wasmistaken, and that her last argument was not a likely one to affect theyoung man. "Take care, Monsieur de Bragelonne," she said, "for if you donot weigh well all your actions, you might throw into an extravaganceof wrath a prince whose passions, once aroused, exceed the bounds ofreason, and you would thereby involve your friends and family in thedeepest distress; you must bend, you must submit, and you must cureyourself."
"I thank you, Madame; I appreciate the advice your royal highness isgood enough to give me, and I will endeavor to follow it; but one finalword, I beg."
"Name it."
"Should I be indiscreet in asking you the secret of this staircase, ofthis trap-door; a secret, which, it seems, you have discovered?"
"Nothing more simple. For the purpose of exercising a surveillance overthe young girls who are attached to my service, I have duplicate keys oftheir doors. It seemed very strange to me that M. de Saint-Aignan shouldchange his apartments. It seemed very strange that the king shouldcome to see M. de Saint-Aignan every day, and, finally, it seemed verystrange that so many things should be done during your absence, that thevery habits and customs of the court appeared changed. I do not wishto be trifled with by the king, nor to serve as a cloak for his loveaffairs; for after La Valliere, who weeps incessantly, he will take afancy to Montalais, who is always laughing; and then to Tonnay-Charente,who does nothing but sing all day; to act such a part as that would beunworthy of me. I thrust aside the scruples which my friendship foryou suggested. I discovered the secret. I have wounded your feelings, Iknow, and I again entreat you to pardon me; but I had a duty to fulfil.I have discharged it. You are now forewarned; the tempest will soonburst; protect yourself accordingly."
"You naturally expect, however, that a result of some kind must follow,"replied Bragelonne, with firmness; "for you do not suppose I shallsilently accept the shame thus thrust upon me, or the treachery whichhas been practiced against me?"
"You will take whatever steps in the matter you please, Monsieur Raoul,only do not betray the source whence you derived the truth. That is allI have to ask,--the only price I require for the service I have renderedyou."
"Fear nothing, Madame," said Bragelonne, with a bitter smile.
"I bribed the locksmith, in whom the lovers confided. You can just aswell have done so as myself, can you not?"
"Yes, Madame. Your royal highness, however, has no other advice orcaution to give me, except that of not betraying you?"
"None."
"I am about, therefore, to beg your royal highness to allow me to remainhere for one moment."
"Without me?"
"Oh! no, Madame. It matters very little; for what I have to do can bedone in your presence. I only ask one moment to write a line to someone."
"It is dangerous, Monsieur de Bragelonne. Take care."
"No one can possibly know that your royal highness has done me thehonor to conduct me here. Besides, I shall sign the letter I am going towrite."
"Do as you please, then."
Raoul drew out his tablet, and wrote rapidly on one of the leaves thefollowing words:
"MONSIEUR LE COMTE,--Do not be surprised to find this paper signed byme; the friend I shall very shortly send to call on you will have thehonor to explain the object of my visit.
"VICOMTE RAOUL DE BRAGELONNE."
He rolled up the paper, slipped it into the lock of the door whichcommunicated with the room set apart for the two lovers, and satisfiedhimself that the missive was so apparent that Saint-Aignan could not butsee it as he entered; he rejoined the princess, who had already reachedthe top of the staircase. They then separated, Raoul pretending to thankher highness; Henrietta pitying, or seeming to pity, with all her heart,the wretched young man she had just condemned to such fearful torture."Oh!" she said, as she saw him disappear, pale as death, and his eyesbursting with blood, "if I had foreseen this, I would have hid the truthfrom that poor gentleman."
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