CHAPTER XXXII.
DESPAIR.
As soon as the king had left her, La Valliere raised herself from theground, and extended 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 strength leftto totter toward and fall at the foot of her crucifix. There sheremained, brokenhearted, absorbed and overwhelmed by her grief,forgetful of and indifferent to everything but her profound griefitself--a grief which she could not comprehend otherwise than byinstinct and acute sensation. In the midst of the wild tumult of herthoughts, La Valliere heard her door open again; she started, and turnedround, thinking that it was the king who had returned. She was deceived,however, for it was Madame who appeared at the door. What did she nowcare for Madame! Again she sank down, her head supported by her_prie-dieu_ chair. It was Madame, agitated, irritated and threatening.But what was that to her?
"Mademoiselle," said the princess, standing before La Valliere, "this isvery fine, I admit, to kneel, and pray, and make a pretense of beingreligious; but however submissive you may be in your addresses toHeaven, it is desirable that you should pay some little attention to thewishes of those who reign and 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 entire her forgetfulness orher 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 toward 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 remainedwith her hands crossed over her knees 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 sign 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 pulsations of her wrists, her neck, and temples began to throb moreand more heavily. 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 first existence as though it were upon the wings of a mightytempest, and in the dim horizon of the path along which her deliriumhurried her, she saw the stone which covered her tomb upraised, and thedark and appalling interior of eternal night revealed to her distractedgaze. But the horror of the dream which had possessed her senses soonfaded away, and she was again restored to the habitual resignation ofher character. A ray of hope penetrated her heart, as a ray of sunlightstreams into the dungeon of some unhappy captive. Her mind reverted tothe journey from Fontainebleau; she saw the king riding beside hercarriage, telling her that he loved her, asking for her love in return,requiring her to swear, and himself swearing too, that never should anevening pass by, if ever a misunderstanding were to arise between them,without a visit, a letter, a sign of some kind, being sent, to replacethe troubled anxiety of the evening by the calm repose of the night. Itwas the king who had suggested that, who had imposed a promise upon her,who had himself sworn it also. It was impossible, therefore, shereasoned, that the king should fail in keeping the promise which he hadhimself exacted from her, unless, indeed, the king were a despot whoenforced love as he enforced obedience; unless, too, the king were trulyindifferent, that the first obstacle in his way were sufficient toarrest his further progress. The king, that kind protector, who by aword, by a single word, could relieve her distress of mind, the kingeven joined her persecutors. Oh! his anger could not possibly last. Nowthat he was alone, he would be suffering all that she herself was a preyto. But he was not tied hand and foot as she was; he could act, couldmove about, could come to her, while she could do nothing but wait. Andthe poor girl waited, and waited, with breathless anxiety, for shecould not believe 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 as she reflected upon it, and also the more shereflected, Louis appeared to her to be less guilty. In fact, he wasignorant of everything. What must he have thought of the obstinacy withwhich she remained silent? Impatient and irritable as the king was knownto be, it was extraordinary that he had been able to preserve his temperso long. And yet, had it been her own case, she undoubtedly would nothave acted in such a manner; she would have understood everything, haveguessed everything. Yes, but she was nothing but a poor simple-mindedgirl, and not a great and powerful monarch. Oh! if he did but come, ifhe would but come!--how eagerly she would forgive him for all he hadjust made her suffer! how much more tenderly she would love him becauseshe had so suffered! And so she sat, with her head bent forward in eagerexpectation toward the door, her lips slightly parted, as if--and Heavenforgive her for the thought, she mentally exclaimed--they were awaitingthe kiss which the king's lips had in the morning so sweetly indicated,when he pronounced the word _love_! If the king did not come, at leasthe would write! it was a second chance; a chance less delightfulcertainly than the other, but which would show an affection just asstrong, but only more timorous in its nature. Oh! how she would devourhis letter, how eager she would be to answer it; and when the messengerwho had brought it had left her, how she would kiss, read over and overagain, press upon her heart the happy paper which would have brought herease of mind, tranquillity, and perfect happiness. At all events, ifthe king did not come; if, however, the king did not write, he could notdo otherwise than send Saint-Aignan, or Saint-Aignan could not dootherwise than come of his own accord. Even if it were a third person,how openly she would speak to him; the royal presence would not be thereto freeze her words upon her tongue, and then no suspicious feelingwould remain a moment longer in 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 had struck, theking might come, or write, or send; that at midnight only would everyexpectation be useless, every hope lost. Whenever there was any noise inthe palace, the poor girl fancied she was the cause of it; whenever sheheard 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 on inthis anxiety, and yet they seemed to pass far too quickly. And now, itstruck a quarter to twelve. Midnight, midnight was near, the last, thefinal hope which remained, came in its turn. With the last stroke of theclock, the last ray of light seemed to fade away; and with the last ray,so faded her final hope. And so, the king himself had deceived her; itwas he who had been the first to fail in keeping the oath which he hadsworn that very day; twelve hours only between his oath and his perjuredvow; it was not long, certainly, to have preserved the illusion. And so,not only did the king not love her, but still more, he despised h
er whomevery one overwhelmed; he despised her to the extent even of abandoningher to the shame of an expulsion which was equivalent to having anignominious sentence passed upon her; and yet, it was he, the kinghimself, who was the first cause of this ignominy. A bitter smile, theonly symptom of anger which during this long conflict had passed acrossthe victim's angelic face, appeared upon her lips. What, in fact, nowremained on earth for her, after the king was lost to her? Nothing. ButHeaven still remained, and her thoughts flew thither. She prayed thatthe proper course for her to follow might be suggested. "It is fromHeaven," she thought, "that I do expect everything; it is from Heaven Iought to expect everything." And she looked at her crucifix with adevotion full of tender love. "There," she said, "hangs before me aMaster who never forgets and never abandons those who do not abandon andwho do not forget Him; it is to Him alone that we must sacrificeourselves." And, thereupon, could any one have gazed into the recessesof that chamber, they would have seen the poor despairing girl adopt afinal resolution, and determine upon one last plan in her mind.Thereupon, and as her knees were no longer able to support her, shegradually sank down upon the _prie-dieu_, and with her head pressedagainst the wooden cross, her eyes fixed, and her respiration short andquick, she watched for the earliest rays of approaching daylight. At twoo'clock in the morning she was still in the same bewilderment of mind,or rather in the same ecstasy of feeling. Her thoughts had almost ceasedto hold any communion with the things of this world. And when she sawthe violet tints of early dawn visible upon the roofs of the palace, andvaguely revealing the outlines of the ivory cross which she heldembraced, she rose from the ground with a new-born strength, kissed thefeet of the divine martyr, descended the staircase leading from theroom, and wrapped herself from head to foot in a mantle as she wentalong. She reached the wicket at the very moment the guard of musketeersopened the gate to admit the first relief-guard belonging to one of theSwiss regiments. And then, gliding behind the soldiers, she reached thestreet before the officer in command of the patrol had even thought ofasking who the young girl was who was making her escape from the palaceat so early an hour.
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