Les Quarante-cinq. English

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER LVII.

  HOW A GREAT LADY LOVED IN THE YEAR 1586.

  The whistles which Ernanton had heard were really his signal. Thus, whenthe young man reached the door, he found Dame Fournichon on thethreshold waiting for her customers with a smile, which made herresemble a mythological goddess painted by a Flemish painter, and in herlarge white hands she held a golden crown, which another hand, whiterand more delicate, had slipped in, in passing.

  She stood before the door, so as to bar Ernanton's passage.

  "What do you want?" said she to him.

  "Were not three whistles given from one of those windows just now?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, they were to summon me."

  "You?"

  "Yes."

  "On your honor?"

  "As a gentleman, Dame Fournichon."

  "Enter, then, monsieur, enter."

  And happy at having a client after her own heart, fit for the "Rose-treeof love," the hostess conducted Ernanton up the stairs herself. A littledoor, vulgarly painted, gave access to a sort of antechamber, which ledto a room, furnished, decorated, and carpeted with rather more luxurythan might have been expected in this remote corner of Paris; but thiswas Madame Fournichon's favorite room and she had exerted all her tasteto embellish it.

  When the young man entered the antechamber, he smelled a strong aromaticodor, the work, doubtless, of some susceptible person, who had thustried to overcome the smell of cooking exhaled from the kitchen.

  Ernanton, after opening the door, stopped for an instant to contemplateone of those elegant female figures which must always command attention,if not love. Reposing on cushions, enveloped in silk and velvet, thislady was occupied in burning in the candle the end of a little stick ofaloes, over which she bent so as to inhale the full perfume. By themanner in which she threw the branch in the fire, and pulled her hoodover her masked face, Ernanton perceived that she had heard him enter,but she did not turn.

  "Madame," said the young man, "you sent for your humble servant--here heis."

  "Ah! very well," said the lady; "sit down, I beg, M. Ernanton."

  "Pardon, madame, but before anything I must thank you for the honor thatyou do me."

  "Ah! that is civil, and you are right; but I presume you do not knowwhom you are thanking, M. de Carmainges."

  "Madame, you have your face hidden by a mask and your hands by gloves; Icannot then recognize you--I can but guess."

  "And you guess who I am?"

  "Her whom my heart desires, whom my imagination paints, young,beautiful, powerful, and rich; too rich and too powerful for me to beable to believe that what has happened to me is real, and that I am notdreaming."

  "Had you any trouble to enter here?" asked the lady, without replyingdirectly to the words which had escaped from the full heart of Ernanton.

  "No, madame; the admittance was easier than I could have thought."

  "Yes, all is easy for a man; it is so different for a woman. What wereyou saying before, monsieur?" added she, carelessly, and pulling off herglove to show a beautiful hand, at once plump and taper.

  "I said, madame, that without having seen your face, I know who you are,and without fear of making a mistake, may say that I love you."

  "Then you are sure that I am her whom you expected to find here?"

  "My heart tells me so."

  "Then you know me?"

  "Yes."

  "Really! you, a provincial, only just-arrived, you already know thewomen of Paris?"

  "In all Paris, madame, I know but one."

  "And that is me?"

  "I believe so."

  "By what do you recognize me?"

  "By your voice, your grace, and your beauty."

  "My voice, perhaps; I cannot disguise it. My grace; I may appropriatethe compliment; but as for my beauty, it is veiled."

  "It was less so, madame, on the day when, to bring you into Paris, Iheld you so near to me that your breast touched my shoulders, and I feltyour breath on my neck."

  "Then, on the receipt of my letter, you guessed that it came from me?"

  "Oh! no, madame, not for a moment; I believed I was the subject of somejoke, or the victim of some error, and it is only during the last fewminutes that, seeing you, touching you--" and he tried to take her hand,but she withdrew it.

  "Enough!" said the lady; "the fact is, that I have committed a greatfolly."

  "In what, madame?"

  "In what? You say that you know me, and then ask."

  "Oh! it is true, madame, that I am very insignificant and obscure nearyour highness."

  "Mon Dieu! monsieur, pray be silent. Have you no sense?"

  "What have I done?" cried Ernanton, frightened.

  "You see me in a mask, and if I wear one, it is for disguise, and yetyou call me your highness."

  "Ah, pardon me, madame," said Ernanton, "but I believed in thediscretion of these walls."

  "It appears you are credulous."

  "Alas! madame, I am in love."

  "And you are convinced that I reciprocate this love?"

  Ernanton rose piqued.

  "No, madame," replied he.

  "Then what do you believe?"

  "I believe that you have something important to say to me, and that, notwishing to receive me at your hotel, or at Bel-Esbat, you preferred thisisolated spot."

  "You thought that?"--"Yes."

  "And what do you think I could have to say to you?" asked the lady,rather anxiously.

  "How can I tell? Perhaps something about M. de Mayenne."

  "Had you not already told me all you knew of him?"

  "Perhaps, then, some question about last night's event."

  "What event? of what do you speak?" asked the lady, visibly agitated.

  "Of the panic experienced by M. d'Epernon and the arrest of the Lorrainegentlemen."

  "They arrested them?"

  "Yes, those who were found on the road to Vincennes."

  "Which is also the road to Soissons, where M. de Guise holds hisgarrison. Ah! M. Ernanton, you, who belong to the court, can tell me whythey arrested these gentlemen."

  "I belong to the court?"

  "Certainly."

  "You know that, madame?"

  "Ah! to find out your address, we were forced to make inquiries. Butwhat resulted from all this?"

  "Nothing, madame, to my knowledge."

  "Then why did you think I should wish to speak of it?"

  "I am wrong again, madame."

  "From what place are you, monsieur?"

  "From Agen."

  "What, you are a Gascon! and yet are not vain enough to suppose thatwhen I saw you at the Porte St. Antoine, on the day of Salcede'sexecution, I liked your looks."

  Ernanton reddened, and looked confused.

  The lady went on. "That I met you in the street, and found youhandsome."

  Ernanton grew scarlet.

  "That afterward, when you brought me a message from my brother, I likedyou."

  "Madame, I never thought so, I protest."

  "Then you were wrong," said the lady, turning on him two eyes whichflashed through her mask.

  Ernanton clasped his hands.

  "Madame, are you mocking me?" cried he.

  "Ma foi! no. The truth is, that you pleased me."

  "Mon Dieu!"

  "But you yourself dared to declare your love to me."

  "But then I did not know who you were, madame; and now that I do know, Ihumbly ask your pardon."

  "Oh!" cried the lady, "say all you think, or I shall regret havingcome."

  Ernanton fell on his knees.

  "Speak, madame, speak, that I may be sure this is not all a dream, andperhaps I shall dare to answer."

  "So be it. Here are my projects for you," said the lady, gently pushingErnanton back, while she arranged the folds of her dress; "I fancy you,but I do not yet know you. I am not in the habit of resisting myfancies; but I never commit follies. Had we been equals, I should havereceived you at my h
ouse, and studied you before I hinted at myfeelings; but as that was impossible, I was driven to this interview;now you know what to do; be worthy of me, it is all I ask."

  Ernanton exhausted himself in protestations.

  "Oh! less warmth, M. de Carmainges, I beg; it is not worth while,"replied she, carelessly. "Perhaps it was only your name that pleased me;perhaps it is a caprice, and will pass away. However, do not thinkyourself too far from perfection, and begin to despair. I hate perfectpeople, but I adore devoted ones; remember that."

  Ernanton was beside himself. This haughty language and proudsuperiority, yet this frank declaration and abandon, terrified and yetdelighted him. He seated himself near the proud and beautiful lady, andthen tried to pass his arm behind the cushions on which she reclined.

  "Monsieur," said she, "it appears you have heard, but not understood me.No familiarity, if you please; let us each remain in our places. Someday I shall give you the right to call me yours; but this right you havenot yet."

  Ernanton rose, pale and angry.

  "Excuse me, madame," said he, "it seems I commit nothing but follieshere; I am not yet accustomed to the habits of Paris. Among us in theprovinces, 200 leagues off, when a woman says 'I love,' she loves, anddoes not hold herself aloof, or take pretexts for humiliating the man ather feet. It is your custom as a Parisian, and your right as a princess.I accept it, therefore, only I have not been accustomed to it. Thehabit, doubtless, will come in time."

  "Ah! you are angry, I believe," said the duchess, haughtily.

  "I am, madame, but it is against myself; for I have for you, madame,not a passing caprice, but a real love. It is your heart I seek toobtain, and therefore I am angry with myself for having compromised therespect that I owe you, and which I will only change into love when youcommand me. From this moment, madame, I await your orders."

  "Come, come, do not exaggerate, M. de Carmainges; now you are all ice,after being all flame."

  "It seems to me, however, madame--"

  "A truce to politeness; I do not wish to play the princess. Here is myhand, take it; it is that of a simple woman."

  Ernanton took this beautiful hand respectfully.

  "Well, you do not kiss it!" cried the duchess; "are you mad, or have yousworn to put me in a passion?"

  "But just now--"

  "Just now I drew it away, while now I give it to you."

  Ernanton kissed the hand, which was then withdrawn.

  "Another lesson," said he. "Assuredly you will end by killing mypassion. I may adore you on my knees; but I should have neither love norconfidence for you."

  "Oh! I do not wish that, for you would be a sad lover, and it is not sothat I like them. No, remain natural, be yourself, M. Ernanton, andnothing else. I have caprices. Oh! mon Dieu, you told me I wasbeautiful, and all beautiful women have them. Do not fear me; and when Isay to the too impetuous Ernanton, 'Calm yourself,' let him consult myeyes and not my voice."

  At these words she rose.

  It was time, for the young man seized her in his arms, and his lipstouched her mask; but through this mask her eyes darted such a flamingglance that he drew back.

  "Well," said she, "we shall meet again. Decidedly you please me, M. deCarmainges." Ernanton bowed.

  "When are you free?" asked she.

  "Alas! very rarely, madame."

  "Ah! your service is fatiguing, is it not?"

  "What service?"

  "That which you perform near the king. Are you not some kind of guard tohis majesty?"

  "I form part of a body of gentlemen, madame."

  "That is what I mean. They are all Gascons, are they not?"

  "Yes, madame."

  "How many are there? I forget."

  "Forty-five."

  "What a singular number!"

  "I believe it was chance."

  "And these forty-five gentlemen never quit the king, you say?"

  "I did not say so, madame."

  "Ah! I thought you did; at least, you said you had very little liberty."

  "It is true, I have very little; because by day we are on service nearthe king, and at night we stay at the Louvre."

  "In the evening?"

  "Yes."

  "Every evening?"

  "Nearly."

  "What would have happened then this evening, if your duty had kept you?I, who waited for you, and should have been ignorant of the cause ofyour absence, should have thought my advances despised."

  "Ah! madame, to see you I will risk all, I swear to you."

  "It would be useless and absurd; I do not wish it."

  "But then--"

  "Do your duty; I will arrange, who am free and mistress of my time."

  "What goodness, madame!"

  "But you have not explained to me," said the duchess, with herinsinuating smile, "how you happened to be free this evening, and howyou came."

  "This evening, madame, I was thinking of asking permission of DeLoignac, our captain, who is very kind to me, when the order came togive a night's holiday to the Forty-five."

  "And on what account was this leave given?"

  "As recompense, I believe, madame, for a somewhat fatiguing serviceyesterday at Vincennes."

  "Ah! very well."

  "Therefore to this circumstance I owe the pleasure of seeing youto-night at my ease."

  "Well! listen, Carmainges," said the duchess, with a gentle familiaritywhich filled the heart of the young man with joy; "this is what you mustdo, whenever you think you shall be at liberty--send a note here to thehostess, and every day I will send a man to inquire."

  "Oh! mon Dieu! madame, you are too good!"

  "What is that noise?" said the duchess, laying her hand on his arm.

  Indeed, a noise of spurs, of voices, of doors shutting, and joyousexclamations, came from the room below, like the echo of an invasion.Ernanton looked out.

  "It is my companions," said he, "who have come here to spend theirholiday."

  "But by what chance? just where we are."

  "Because it is just here, madame, that we each had a rendezvous on ourarrival, and on the happy day of their entry in Paris my friendsconceived an affection for the wine and the cooking of M. Fournichon.But you, how did you come to choose this place?"

  "I chose, and you will easily understand that, the most deserted part ofParis, a place near the river, where no one was likely to recognize me,or suspect that I could come; but, mon Dieu! how noisy your companionsare."

  Indeed, the noise was becoming a perfect storm, but all at once theyheard a sound of footsteps on the little staircase which led to theirroom, and Madame Fournichon's voice, crying, from below, "M. de St.Maline, M. de St. Maline!"

  "Well!" replied the young man.

  "Do not go up there, I beg!"

  "And why not, dear Madame Fournichon? is not all the house oursto-night?"--"Not the turrets."

  "Bah! they are part of the house," cried five or six voices.

  "No, they are not; they are private; do not disturb my lodgers."

  "Do not disturb me, Madame Fournichon," replied St. Maline.

  "For pity's sake!" cried Madame Fournichon.

  "Madame," replied he, "it is midnight, and at nine all fires ought to beextinguished; there is a fire now in your turret, and I must see whatdisobedient subject is transgressing the king's edicts."

  And St. Maline continued to advance, followed by several others.

  "Mon Dieu! M. de Carmainges," cried the duchess, "will those people dareto enter here?"

  "I am here, madame; have no fear."

  "Oh! they are forcing the doors," cried she.

  Indeed, St. Maline rushed so furiously against the door, that, beingvery slight, it was at once broken open.