While the Comte de la Fere was proceeding on his way to Paris,accompanied by Raoul, the Palais-Royal was the theatre wherein a sceneof what Moliere would have called excellent comedy was being performed.Four days had elapsed since his marriage, and Monsieur, havingbreakfasted very hurriedly, passed into his ante-chamber, frowning andout of temper. The repast had not been over-agreeable. Madame had hadbreakfast served in her own apartment, and Monsieur had breakfastedalmost alone; the Chevalier de Lorraine and Manicamp were the onlypersons present at the meal which lasted three-quarters of an hourwithout a single syllable having been uttered. Manicamp, who was lessintimate with his royal highness than the Chevalier de Lorraine, vainlyendeavored to detect, from the expression of the prince's face, what hadmade him so ill-humored. The Chevalier de Lorraine, who had no occasionto speculate about anything, inasmuch as he knew all, ate his breakfastwith that extraordinary appetite which the troubles of one's friends butstimulates, and enjoyed at the same time both Monsieur's ill-humor andthe vexation of Manicamp. He seemed delighted, while he went on eating,to detain the prince, who was very impatient to move, still at table.Monsieur at times repented the ascendancy which he had permitted theChevalier de Lorraine to acquire over him, and which exempted the latterfrom any observance of etiquette towards him. Monsieur was now in oneof those moods, but he dreaded as much as he liked the chevalier, andcontented himself with nursing his anger without betraying it. Everynow and then Monsieur raised his eyes to the ceiling, then loweredthem towards the slices of pate which the chevalier was attacking,and finally, not caring to betray his resentment, he gesticulated ina manner which Harlequin might have envied. At last, however, Monsieurcould control himself no longer, and at the dessert, rising from thetable in excessive wrath, as we have related, he left the Chevalier deLorraine to finish his breakfast as he pleased. Seeing Monsieur risefrom the table, Manicamp, napkin in hand, rose also. Monsieur ran ratherthan walked, towards the ante-chamber, where, noticing an usher inattendance, he gave him some directions in a low tone of voice.Then turning back again, but avoiding passing through the breakfastapartment, he crossed several rooms, with the intention of seeking thequeen-mother in her oratory, where she usually remained.
It was about ten o'clock in the morning. Anne of Austria was engaged inwriting as Monsieur entered. The queen-mother was extremely attached toher son, for he was handsome in person and amiable in disposition. Hewas, in fact, more affectionate, and, it might be, more effeminatethan the king. He pleased his mother by those trifling sympathizingattentions all women are glad to receive. Anne of Austria, who wouldhave been rejoiced to have had a daughter, almost found in this, herfavorite son, the attentions, solicitude, and playful manners of achild of twelve years of age. All the time he passed with his mother heemployed in admiring her arms, in giving his opinion upon her cosmetics,and receipts for compounding essences, in which she was very particular;and then, too, he kissed her hands and cheeks in the most childlike andendearing manner, and had always some sweetmeats to offer her, or somenew style of dress to recommend. Anne of Austria loved the king,or rather the regal power in her eldest son; Louis XIV. representedlegitimacy by right divine. With the king, her character was that ofthe queen-mother, with Philip she was simply the mother. The latterknew that, of all places of refuge, a mother's heart is the mostcompassionate and surest. When quite a child he always fled there forrefuge when he and his brother quarrelled, often, after having struckhim, which constituted the crime of high treason on his part, aftercertain engagements with hands and nails, in which the king and hisrebellious subject indulged in their night-dresses respecting the rightto a disputed bed, having their servant Laporte as umpire,--Philip,conqueror, but terrified at victory, used to flee to his motherto obtain reinforcements from her, or at least the assurance offorgiveness, which Louis XIV. granted with difficulty, and after aninterval. Anne, from this habit of peaceable intervention, succeeded inarranging the disputes of her sons, and in sharing, at the sametime, all their secrets. The king, somewhat jealous of that maternalsolicitude which was bestowed particularly upon his brother, feltdisposed to show towards Anne of Austria more submission and attachmentthan his character really dictated. Anne of Austria had adopted thisline of conduct especially towards the young queen. In this manner sheruled with almost despotic sway over the royal household, and shewas already preparing her batteries to govern with the same absoluteauthority the household of her second son. Anne experienced almosta feeling of pride whenever she saw any one enter her apartment withwoe-begone looks, pale cheeks, or red eyes, gathering from appearancesthat assistance was required either by the weakest or the mostrebellious. She was writing, we have said, when Monsieur entered heroratory, not with red eyes or pale cheeks, but restless, out of temper,and annoyed. With an absent air he kissed his mother's hands, and sathimself down before receiving her permission to do so. Considering thestrict rules of etiquette established at the court of Anne of Austria,this forgetfulness of customary civilities was a sign of preoccupation,especially on Philip's part, who, of his own accord, observed a respecttowards her of a somewhat exaggerated character. If, therefore, he sonotoriously failed in this regard, there must be a serious cause for it.
"What is the matter, Philip?" inquired Anne of Austria, turning towardsher son.
"A good many things," murmured the prince, in a doleful tone of voice.
"You look like a man who has a great deal to do," said the queen, layingdown her pen. Philip frowned, but did not reply. "Among the varioussubjects which occupy your mind," said Anne of Austria, "there mustsurely be one that absorbs it more than others."
"One indeed has occupied me more than any other."
"Well, what is it? I am listening."
Philip opened his mouth as if to express all the troubles his mind wasfilled with, and which he seemed to be waiting only for an opportunityof declaring. But he suddenly became silent, and a sigh alone expressedall that his heart was overflowing with.
"Come, Philip, show a little firmness," said the queen-mother. "When onehas to complain of anything, it is generally an individual who is thecause of it. Am I not right?"
"I do not say no, madame."
"Whom do you wish to speak about? Come, take courage."
"In fact, madame, what I might possibly have to say must be kept aprofound secret; for when a lady is in the case----"
"Ah! you are speaking of Madame, then?" inquired the queen-mother, witha feeling of the liveliest curiosity.
"Yes."
"Well, then, if you wish to speak of Madame, do not hesitate to do so. Iam your mother, and she is no more than a stranger to me. Yet, as she ismy daughter-in-law, rest assured I shall be interested, even were it foryour own sake alone, in hearing all you may have to say about her."
"Pray tell me, madame, in your turn, whether you have not remarkedsomething?"
"'Something'! Philip? Your words almost frighten me, from their want ofmeaning. What do you mean by 'something'?"
"Madame is pretty, certainly."
"No doubt of it."
"Yet not altogether beautiful."
"No, but as she grows older, she will probably become strikinglybeautiful. You must have remarked the change which a few years havealready made in her. Her beauty will improve more and more; she is nowonly sixteen years of age. At fifteen I was, myself, very thin; but evenas she is at present, Madame is very pretty."
"And consequently others have remarked it."
"Undoubtedly, for a woman of ordinary rank is noticed--and with stillgreater reason a princess."
"She has been well brought up, I suppose?"
"Madame Henrietta, her mother, is a woman somewhat cold in manner,slightly pretentious, but full of noble thoughts. The princess'seducation may have been neglected, but her principles, I believe, aregood. Such at least was the opinion I formed of her when she resided inFrance; but she afterwards returned to England, and I am ignorant whatmay have occurred there."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply th
at there are some heads naturally giddy, which are easilyturned by prosperity."
"That is the very word, madame. I think the princess rather giddy."
"We must not exaggerate, Philip; she is clever and witty, and has acertain amount of coquetry very natural in a young woman; but thisdefect in persons of high rank and position is a great advantage at acourt. A princess who is tinged with coquetry usually forms a brilliantcourt around her; her smile stimulates luxury, arouses wit, and evencourage; the nobles, too, fight better for a prince whose wife isbeautiful."
"Thank you extremely, madame," said Philip, with some temper; "youreally have drawn some very alarming pictures for me."
"In what respect?" asked the queen, with pretended simplicity.
"You know, madame," said Philip, dolefully, "whether I had or had not avery great dislike to getting married."
"Now, indeed, you alarm me. You have some serious cause of complaintagainst Madame."
"I do not precisely say it is serious."
"In that case, then, throw aside your doleful looks. If you showyourself to others in your present state, people will take you for avery unhappy husband."
"The fact is," replied Philip, "I am not altogether satisfied as ahusband, and I shall not be sorry if others know it."
"For shame, Philip."
"Well, then, madame, I will tell you frankly that I do not understandthe life I am required to lead."
"Explain yourself."
"My wife does not seem to belong to me; she is always leaving mefor some reason or another. In the mornings there are visits,correspondences, and toilettes; in the evenings, balls and concerts."
"You are jealous, Philip."
"I! Heaven forbid. Let others act the part of a jealous husband, not I.But I am annoyed."
"All these things you reproach your wife with are perfectly innocent,and, so long as you have nothing of greater importance----"
"Yet, listen; without being very blamable, a woman can excite agood deal of uneasiness. Certain visitors may be received, certainpreferences shown, which expose young women to remark, and which areenough to drive out of their senses even those husbands who are leastdisposed to be jealous."
"Ah! now we are coming to the real point at last, and not without somedifficulty. You speak of frequent visits, and certain preferences--verygood; for the last hour we have been beating about the bush, and atlast you have broached the true question. This is more serious than Ithought. It is possible, then, that Madame can have given you groundsfor these complaints against her?"
"Precisely so."
"What, your wife, married only four days ago, prefers some other personto yourself? Take care, Philip, you exaggerate your grievances; inwishing to prove everything, you prove nothing."
The prince, bewildered by his mother's serious manner wished to reply,but he could only stammer out some unintelligible words.
"You draw back, then?" said Anne of Austria. "I prefer that, as it is anacknowledgment of your mistake."
"No!" exclaimed Philip, "I do not draw back, and I will prove all Iasserted. I spoke of preference and of visits, did I not? Well, listen."
Anne of Austria prepared herself to listen, with that love of gossipwhich the best woman living and the best mother, were she a queen even,always finds in being mixed up with the petty squabbles of a household.
"Well," said Philip, "tell me one thing."
"What is that?"
"Why does my wife retain an English court about her?" said Philip, ashe crossed his arms and looked his mother steadily in the face, as if hewere convinced that she could not answer the question.
"For a very simple reason," returned Anne of Austria; "because theEnglish are her countrymen, because they have expended large sumsin order to accompany her to France, and because it would be hardlypolite--not politic, certainly--to dismiss abruptly those members ofthe English nobility who have not shrunk from any devotion or from anysacrifice."
"A wonderful sacrifice indeed," returned Philip, "to desert a wretchedcountry to come to a beautiful one, where a greater effect canbe produced for a crown than can be procured elsewhere for four!Extraordinary devotion, really, to travel a hundred leagues in companywith a woman one is in love with!"
"In love, Philip! think what you are saying. Who is in love withMadame?"
"The Duke of Buckingham. Perhaps you will defend him, too."
Anne of Austria blushed and smiled at the same time. The name of theDuke of Buckingham recalled certain recollections of a very tender andmelancholy nature. "The Duke of Buckingham?" she murmured.
"Yes; one of those arm-chair soldiers----"
"The Buckinghams are loyal and brave," said Anne of Austria,courageously.
"This is too bad; my own mother takes the part of my wife's loveragainst me," exclaimed Philip, incensed to such an extent that his weakorganization was effected almost to tears.
"Philip, my son," exclaimed Anne of Austria, "such an expression isunworthy of you. Your wife has no lover and, had she one, it would notbe the Duke of Buckingham. The members of that family, I repeat areloyal and discreet, and the rights of hospitality are sure to berespected by them."
"The Duke of Buckingham is an Englishman, madame," said Philip; "and mayI ask if the English so very religiously respect what belongs to princesof France?"
Anne blushed a second time, and turned aside under the pretext of takingher pen from her desk again, but in reality to conceal her confusionfrom her son. "Really, Philip," she said, "you seem to discoverexpressions for the purpose of embarrassing me, and your anger blindsyou while it alarms me; reflect a little."
"There is no need for reflection, madame. I can see with my own eyes."
"Well, and what do you see?"
"That Buckingham never quits my wife. He presumes to make presents toher, and she ventures to accept them. Yesterday she was talking aboutsachets a la violette; well, our French perfumers, you know verywell, madame, for you have over and over again asked for it withoutsuccess--our French perfumers, I say, have never been able to procurethis scent. The duke, however, wore about him a sachet a la violette,and I am sure that the one my wife has came from him."
"Indeed, monsieur," said Anne of Austria, "you build your pyramids onneedle points; be careful. What harm, I ask you, can there be in a mangiving to his countrywoman a receipt for a new essence? These strangeideas, I protest, painfully recall your father to me; he who sofrequently and so unjustly made me suffer."
"The Duke of Buckingham's father was probably more reserved and morerespectful than his son," said Philip, thoughtlessly, not perceiving howdeeply he had wounded his mother's feelings. The queen turned pale,and pressed her clenched hands upon her bosom; but, recovering herselfimmediately, she said, "You came here with some intention or another, Isuppose?"
"Certainly."
"What was it?"
"I came, madame, intending to complain energetically, and to inform youthat I will not submit to such behavior from the Duke of Buckingham."
"What do you intend to do, then?"
"I shall complain to the king."
"And what do you expect the king to reply?"
"Very well, then," said Monsieur, with an expression of sterndetermination on his countenance, which offered a singular contrast toits usual gentleness. "Very well. I will right myself!"
"What do you call righting yourself?" inquired Anne of Austria, inalarm.
"I will have the Duke of Buckingham quit the princess, I will have himquit France, and I will see that my wishes are intimated to him."
"You will intimate nothing of the kind, Philip," said the queen, "for ifyou act in that manner, and violate hospitality to that extent, I willinvoke the severity of the king against you."
"Do you threaten me, madame?" exclaimed Philip, almost in tears; "do youthreaten me in the midst of my complaints!"
"I do not threaten you; I do but place an obstacle in the path of yourhasty anger. I maintain that, to adopt towards the Duke of Buckingham,or any othe
r Englishman, any rigorous measure--to take even adiscourteous step towards him, would be to plunge France and Englandinto the most disastrous disagreement. Can it be possible that a princeof the blood, the brother of the king of France, does not know how tohide an injury, even did it exist in reality, where political necessityrequires it?" Philip made a movement. "Besides," continued the queen,"the injury is neither true nor possible, and it is merely a matter ofsilly jealousy."
"Madame, I know what I know."
"Whatever you may know, I can only advise you to be patient."
"I am not patient by disposition, madame."
The queen rose, full of severity, and with an icy ceremonious manner."Explain what you really require, monsieur," she said.
"I do not require anything, madame; I simply express what I desire.If the Duke of Buckingham does not, of his own accord, discontinue hisvisits to my apartments I shall forbid him entrance."
"That is a point you will refer to the king," said Anne of Austria, herheart swelling as she spoke, and her voice trembling with emotion.
"But, madame," exclaimed Philip, striking his hands together, "act as mymother and not as the queen, since I speak to you as a son; it is simplya matter of a few minutes' conversation between the duke and myself."
"It is that very conversation I forbid," said the queen, resuming herauthority, "because it is unworthy of you."
"Be it so; I will not appear in the matter, but I shall intimate my willto Madame."
"Oh!" said the queen-mother, with a melancholy arising from reflection,"never tyrannize over a wife--never behave too haughtily or imperiouslytowards your own. A woman unwillingly convinced is unconvinced."
"What is to be done, then?--I will consult my friends about it."
"Yes, your double-dealing advisers, your Chevalier de Lorraine--your DeWardes. Intrust the conduct of this affair to me. You wish the Duke ofBuckingham to leave, do you not?"
"As soon as possible, madame."
"Send the duke to me, then; smile upon your wife, behave to her, to theking, to every one, as usual. But follow no advice but mine. Alas! I toowell know what any household comes to that is troubled by advisers."
"You shall be obeyed, madame."
"And you will be satisfied at the result. Send the duke to me."
"That will not be difficult."
"Where do you suppose him to be?"
"At my wife's door, whose levee he is probably awaiting."
"Very well." said Anne of Austria, calmly. "Be good enough to tell theduke that I shall be charmed if he will pay me a visit."
Philip kissed his mother's hand, and started off to find the Duke ofBuckingham.
CHAPTER 92. Forever!
Ten Years Later Page 98