The Vicomte de Bragelonne

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XLIII.

  THE PORTRAIT.

  In that malady which is termed love the paroxysms succeed each other atintervals, always more rapid from the moment the disease declaresitself. By-and-by, the paroxysms are less frequent, in proportion as thecuret approaches. This being laid down as a general axiom, and as theheading of a particular chapter, we will now proceed with our recital.The next day, the day fixed by the king for the first conversation inSaint-Aignan's room, La Valliere, on opening one of the folds of thescreen, found upon the floor a letter in the king's handwriting. Theletter had been passed, through a slit in the floor, from the lowerapartment to her own. No indiscreet hand or curious gaze could havebrought or did bring this simple paper. This was one of Malicorne'sideas. Having seen how very serviceable Saint-Aignan would become to theking on account of his apartment, he did not wish that the courtiershould become still more indispensable as a messenger, and so he had, onhis own private account, reserved this last post for himself. LaValliere most eagerly read the letter, which fixed two o'clock that sameafternoon for the rendezvous, and which indicated the way of raising thetrap-door which was constructed out of the flooring. "Make yourself lookas beautiful as possible," added the postscript of the letter, wordswhich astonished the young girl, but at the same time reassured her. Thehours passed away very slowly, but the time fixed, however, arrived atlast. As punctual as the priestess Hero, Louise lifted up the trap-doorat the last stroke of the hour of two, and found the king upon the topsteps, waiting for her with the greatest respect, in order to give herhis hand to descend. The delicacy and deference shown in this attentionaffected her very powerfully. At the foot of the staircase the twolovers found the comte, who, with a smile and a low reverencedistinguished by the best taste, expressed his thanks to La Valliere forthe honor she conferred upon him. Then, turning toward the king, hesaid:

  "Sire, our man is here." La Valliere looked at the king with someuneasiness.

  "Mademoiselle," said the king, "if I have begged you to do me the honorof coming down here, it was from an interested motive. I have procured amost admirable portrait-painter, who is celebrated for the fidelity ofhis likenesses, and I wish you to be kind enough to authorize him topaint yours. Besides, if you positively wish it, the portrait shallremain in your own possession." La Valliere blushed.

  "You see," said the king to her, "we shall not be three as you wished,but four instead. And, so long as we are not alone, there can be as manypresent as you please." La Valliere gently pressed her royal lover'shand.

  "Shall we pass into the next room, sire?" said Saint-Aignan, opening thedoor to let his guests precede him. The king walked behind La Valliere,and fixed his eyes lingeringly and passionately upon her neck as whiteas snow, upon which her long fair ringlets fell in heavy masses. LaValliere was dressed in a thick silk robe of pearl gray color, with atinge of rose, with jet ornaments, which displayed to greater effect thedazzling purity of her skin, holding in her slender and transparenthands a bouquet of heartsease, Bengal roses, and clematis, surroundedwith leaves of the tenderest green, above which uprose, like a tinygoblet shedding perfumes, a Haarlem tulip of gray and violet tints, of apure and beautiful species, which had cost the gardener five years' toilof combinations and the king five thousand francs. Louis had placed thisbouquet in La Valliere's hand as he saluted her. In the room, the doorof which Saint-Aignan had just opened, a young man was standing, dressedin a loose velvet coat, with beautiful black eyes and long brown hair.It was the painter; his canvas was quite ready, and his palette preparedfor use. He bowed to La Valliere with that grave curiosity of an artistwho is studying his model, saluted the king discreetly, as if he did notrecognize him, and as he would, consequently, have saluted any othergentleman. Then, leading Mademoiselle de la Valliere to the seat whichhe had arranged for her, he begged her to sit down. The young girlassumed an attitude graceful and unrestrained, her hands occupied, andher limbs reclining on cushions; and in order that her gaze might notassume a vague or affected expression, the painter begged her to choosesome kind of occupation, so as to engage her attention; whereupon, LouisXIV., smiling, sat down on the cushions at La Valliere's feet; so thatshe, in the reclining posture she had assumed, leaning back in thearmchair, holding her flowers in her hand, and he, with his eyes raisedtoward her and fixed devouringly on her face--they, both together,formed so charming a group, that the artist contemplated it withprofessional delight; while, on his side, Saint-Aignan regarded themwith feelings of envy. The painter sketched rapidly; and very soon,beneath the earliest touches of the brush, there started into life, outof the gray background, the gentle, poetry-breathing face, with its softcalm eyes and delicately-tinted cheeks, enframed in the masses of hairwhich fell about her neck. The lovers, however, spoke but little, andlooked at each other a good deal; sometimes their eyes became solanguishing in their gaze, that the painter was obliged to interrupt hiswork in order to avoid representing an Erycina instead of a La Valliere.It was on such occasions that Saint-Aignan came to the rescue, andrecited verses, or repeated one of those little tales as Patru relatedthem, and which Tallemant des Reaux wrote so cleverly. Or, it might be,that La Valliere was fatigued, and the sitting was, therefore, suspendedfor awhile; and, immediately, a tray of precious porcelain, laden withthe most beautiful fruits which could be obtained, and rich winesdistilling their bright colors in silver goblets beautifully chased,served as accessories to the picture of which the painter could butretrace the most ephemeral resemblance. Louis was intoxicated with love,La Valliere with happiness, Saint-Aignan with ambition, and the painterwas storing up recollections for his old age. Two hours passed away inthis manner, and four o'clock having struck, La Valliere rose and made asign to the king. Louis also rose, approached the picture, and addresseda few flattering remarks to the painter. Saint-Aignan also praised thepicture, which, as he pretended, was already beginning to assume anaccurate resemblance. La Valliere, in her turn, blushingly, thanked thepainter, and passed into the next room, where the king followed herafter having previously summoned Saint-Aignan.

  "Will you not come to-morrow?" he said to La Valliere.

  "Oh! sire, pray think that some one will be sure to come to my room, andwill not find me there."

  "Well!"

  "What will become of me in that case?"

  "You are very apprehensive, Louise."

  "But, at all events, suppose Madame were to send for me."

  "Oh!" replied the king, "will the day never come when you yourself willtell me to brave everything, so that I may not have to leave you again."

  "On that day, then, sire, I shall be quite out of my mind, and you oughtnot to believe me."

  "To-morrow, Louise."

  La Valliere sighed, but, without the courage to oppose her royal lover'swish, she repeated, "To-morrow, then, since you desire it, sire;" andwith these words she ran up the stairs lightly, and disappeared from herlover's gaze.

  "Well, sire?" inquired Saint-Aignan, when she had left.

  "Well, Saint-Aignan; yesterday I thought myself the happiest of men."

  "And does your majesty, then, regard yourself to-day," said the comte,smiling, "as the unhappiest of men?"

  "No; but my love for her is an unquenchable thirst; in vain do I drink,in vain do I swallow the drops of water which your industry procures forme; the more I drink the more unquenchable is my thirst."

  "Sire, that is in some degree your own fault, and your majesty alone hasmade the position such as it is."

  "You are right."

  "In that case, therefore, the means to be happiness is to fancy yourselfsatisfied, and to wait."

  "Wait! you know that word, then?"

  "There, there, sire--do not despair; I have already been at work on yourbehalf--I have still other resources in store." The king shook his headin a despairing manner.

  "What, sire! have you not been satisfied hitherto?"

  "Oh! yes, indeed yes, my dear Saint-Aignan; but find, for Heaven's sake,find some further means yet."
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br />   "Sire, I undertake to do my best, and that is all I can do."

  The king wished to see the portrait again, as he was unable to see theoriginal. He pointed out several alterations to the painter, and leftthe room, and then Saint-Aignan dismissed the artist. The easel, paints,and painter himself had scarcely gone, when Malicorne showed his head atthe doorway. He was received by Saint-Aignan with open arms, but stillwith a little sadness, for the cloud which had passed across the royalsun, veiled, in its turn, the faithful satellite, and Malicorne at aglance perceived the melancholy look which was visible uponSaint-Aignan's face.

  "Oh, Monsieur le Comte," he said, "how sad you seem!"

  "And good reason, too, my dear Monsieur Malicorne. Will you believe thatthe king is not satisfied?"

  "Not satisfied with his staircase, do you mean?"

  "Oh, no; on the contrary, he is delighted with the staircase."

  "The decorations of the apartments, I suppose, don't please him?"

  "Oh! he has not even thought of that. No, indeed, it seems that what hasdissatisfied the king--"

  "I will tell you, Monsieur le Comte--he is dissatisfied at findinghimself the fourth person at a rendezvous of this kind. How is itpossible you could not have guessed that?"

  "Why, how is it likely I could have done so, dear M. Malicorne, when Ifollowed the king's instructions to the very letter?"

  "Did his majesty really insist upon your being present?"

  "Positively so."

  "And also required that the painter whom I met downstairs just nowshould be here too?"

  "He insisted upon it."

  "In that case I can easily understand why his majesty is dissatisfied."

  "What! dissatisfied that I have so punctually and literally obeyed hisorders? I don't understand you."

  Malicorne began to scratch his ear as he asked, "What time did the kingfix for the rendezvous in your apartment?"

  "Two o'clock."

  "And you were waiting for the king?"

  "Ever since half-past one; for it would have been a fine thing indeedto have been unpunctual with his majesty."

  Malicorne, notwithstanding his respect for Saint-Aignan, could notresist shrugging his shoulders. "And the painter," he said, "did theking wish him to be here at two o'clock also?"

  "No; but I had him waiting here from mid-day. Far better, you know, fora painter to be kept waiting a couple of hours than the king a singleminute."

  Malicorne began to laugh to himself. "Come, dear Monsieur Malicorne,"said Saint-Aignan, "laugh less at me, and speak a little more freely, Ibeg."

  "Well, then, Monsieur le Comte, if you wish the king to be a little moresatisfied the next time he comes--"

  "Ventre saint-gris! as his grandfather used to say; of course I wishit."

  "Well, all you have to do is, when the king comes to-morrow, to beobliged to go away on a most pressing matter of business, which cannotpossibly be postponed, and stay away for twenty minutes."

  "What! leave the king alone for twenty minutes?" cried Saint-Aignan, inalarm.

  "Very well, do as you like; don't pay any attention to what I say," saidMalicorne, moving toward the door.

  "Nay, nay, dear Monsieur Malicorne; on the contrary, go on--I begin tounderstand you. But the painter--"

  "Oh! the painter must be half an hour late."

  "Half an hour--do you really think so?"

  "Yes. I do, decidedly."

  "Very well, then, I will do as you tell me."

  "And my opinion is, that you will be doing perfectly right. Will youallow me to come and inquire to-morrow a little?"

  "Of course."

  "I have the honor to be your most respectful servant, M. deSaint-Aignan," said Malicorne, bowing profoundly, and retiring from theroom backward.

  "There is no doubt that fellow has more invention than I have," saidSaint-Aignan, as if compelled by his conviction to admit it.