CHAPTER LX.
A DOMICILIARY VISIT.
The princess, preceding Raoul, led him through the courtyard toward thatpart of the building which La Valliere inhabited, and, ascending thesame staircase which Raoul had himself ascended that very morning, shepaused at the door of the room in which the young man had been sostrangely received by Montalais. The opportunity had been well chosen tocarry out the project which Madame Henrietta had conceived, for thechateau was empty. The king, the courtiers, and the ladies of the courthad set off for St. Germain; Madame Henrietta was the only one who knewof Bragelonne's return, and, thinking over the advantages which might bedrawn from this return, 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 from herpocket 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 of itproduced upon him was one of the first tortures which awaited him. Theprincess looked at him, and her practiced eye could at once detect whatwas passing in the young man's heart.
"You asked me for proofs," she said, "do not be astonished, then, if Igive you them. But if you do not think you have courage enough toconfront them, 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 toward 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 toward thefloor. "Look here," she continued; "stoop down, and lift up thistrap-door yourself."
"A trap-door!" said Raoul, astonished; for D'Artagnan's words began toreturn to his memory, and he had an indistinct recollection thatD'Artagnan had made use of the same word. He looked, but uselessly so,for some cleft or crevice which might indicate an opening, or a ring toassist in lifting up some portion of 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 observe aknot 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 very little hand only would have tomake use 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 have had the honor of visiting himin his old rooms."
"Well; he obtained the king's leave to change his former convenient andbeautiful apartment for the two rooms to which this staircase willconduct us, and which together form a lodging for him, twice as small,and at ten times greater 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 of mymaids of honor, and particularly underneath the room of La Valliere."
"But what was the motive of this trap-door and this staircase?"
"That I cannot tell you. Would you like us 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 been witness to La Valliere'ssighs, and still retained the sweetest perfume of her presence.Bragelonne fancied that he perceived, as he inhaled his every breath,that the young girl must have passed through there. Then succeeded tothese emanations of herself, which he regarded as invisible throughcertain proofs, the flowers she preferred to all others--the books ofher own selection. Had Raoul preserved a single doubt on the subject, itwould have vanished at the secret harmony of tastes, and connection ofthe mind with the use of the ordinary objects of life. La Valliere, inBragelonne's eyes, was present there in every article of furniture, inthe color of the hangings, in everything that surrounded him. Dumb, andcompletely overwhelmed, there was nothing further for him now to learn,and he followed his pitiless conductress as blindly as the culpritfollows the executioner; while Madame, as cruel as all women of delicateand nervous temperaments are, did not spare him the slightest detail.But it must be admitted, that, notwithstanding the kind of apathy intowhich he had fallen, none of these details, even had he been left alone,would have escaped him. The happiness of the woman who loves, when thathappiness is derived from a rival, is a living torture for a jealousman; but for a jealous man such as Raoul was, for one whose heart hadfor the first time been steeped in gall and bitterness, Louise'shappiness was in reality an ignominious death, a death of body and soul.
He guessed all; he fancied he could see them, with their hands claspedin each other's, their faces drawn close together, and reflected, sideby side, in loving proximity, as they gazed upon the mirrors aroundthem--so sweet an occupation for lovers, who, as they thus seethemselves twice over, impress the picture more enduringly in theirmemories. He could guess, too, the stolen kiss snatched as theyseparated from each other's loved society. The luxury, the studiedelegance, eloquent of the perfection of indolence, of ease; the extremecare shown, either to spare the loved object every annoyance, or tooccasion her a delightful surprise; that strength and power of lovemultiplied by the strength and power of royalty itself, seemed like adeath-blow to Raoul. If there be anything which can in any way assuageor mitigate the tortures of jealousy, it is the inferiority of the manwho is preferred to yourself; while, on the very contrary, if there bean anguish more bitter than another, a misery for which language has nodescriptive words, 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 eloquent ofyouth, 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 prese
nce I know I ought tohave greater mastery over myself. But Heaven grant that you may never bestruck by a similar misery to that which crushes me at this moment, foryou are but a woman, and would not be able to endure so terrible anaffliction. Forgive me, I again entreat you, madame; I am but a manwithout rank or position, while you belong to a race whose happinessknows no bounds, whose power acknowledges no limit."
"Monsieur de Bragelonne," replied Henrietta, "a heart such as yoursmerits all the consideration and respect which a queen's heart even canbestow. Regard me as your friend, monsieur; and as such, indeed, I wouldnot allow 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 have given you these melancholy proofs,necessary, however, for your cure, if you are a lover with courage inhis heart, and not a weeping Amadis. Do not thank me; pity me even, anddo not 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 extravagance ofwrath, a prince, whose passions, once aroused, exceed the utmost limitsof reason, and you would thereby involve your friends and family in thedeepest distress; you must bend, you must submit, and 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 is more simple. For the purpose of exercising a surveillanceover the young girls who are attached to my service, I have duplicatekeys of their doors. It seemed very strange to me that M. deSaint-Aignan should change his apartments. It seemed very strange, thatthe king should come to see M. de Saint-Aignan every day, and, finally,it seemed very strange, that so many things should be done during yourabsence, that the very habits and customs of the court seemed to bechanged. I do not wish to be trifled with by the king, nor to serve as acloak for his love affairs; for, after La Valliere, who weepsincessantly, he will take a fancy to Montalais, who is always laughing;and then to Tonnay-Charente, who does nothing but sing all day; to actsuch a part as that would be unworthy of me. I have thrust aside thescruples which my friendship for you suggested. I have discovered thesecret. I have wounded your feelings, I know; and I again entreat you toexcuse me; but I had a duty to fulfill. I have discharged it. You arenow forewarned; the tempest will soon burst; protect yourselfaccordingly."
"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 which is thrust upon me, or the treacherywhich has 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, that is the only price I require for the service I haverendered you."
"Fear nothing, madame," said Bragelonne, with a bitter smile.
"I bribed the locksmith, in whom the lovers had confided. You can justas well 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 other."
"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 the honorto 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 here this paper signed by me; the friend whom I shall very shortly send to call on you will have the honor to explain the object of my visit to you.
"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 paper 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 poor, wretched young man she had just condemned to such fearfultorture. "Oh!" she said, as she saw him disappear, pale as death, andhis eyes injected with blood, "if I had known this, I should haveconcealed the truth from that poor gentleman."
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 61