II
"You know the friendship, there is betwixt Sancerre and me.Nevertheless about two years ago he fell in love with Madam de Tournon,and concealed it from me with as much care as from the rest of theworld; I had not the least suspicion of it. Madam de Tournon as yetappeared inconsolable for the death of her husband, and lived inretirement with great austerity. Sancerre's sister was in a manner theonly person she saw, and it was at her lodgings he became in love withher.
"One evening there was to be play at the Louvre, and the actors onlywaited for the coming of the King and Madam de Valentinois, when wordwas brought that she was indisposed, and that the King would not come.It was easy to see that the Duchess's indisposition was nothing butsome quarrel with the King; everyone knew the jealousy he had had ofthe Mareschal de Brisac during his continuance at Court, but he hadbeen set out some days on his return to Piemont, and one could notimagine what was the occasion of this falling out.
"While I was speaking of this to Sancerre, Monsieur d'Anville came intothe room, and told me in a whisper, that the King was so exasperatedand so afflicted at the same time, that one would pity him; that upon alate reconciliation between him and the Duchess, after the quarrel theyhad had about the Mareschal de Brisac, he had given her a ring, anddesired her to wear it; and that as she was dressing herself to come tothe play, he had missed it on her finger, and asked what was become ofit; upon which she seemed in surprise that she had it not, and calledto her women for it, who unfortunately, or for want of being betterinstructed, made answer they had not seen it four or five days.
"It was," continued Monsieur d'Anville, "precisely so long, since theMareschal de Brisac left the Court, and the King made no doubt but shegave him the ring when she took her leave of him. The thought of thisawaked in so lively a manner that jealousy which was not yetextinguished, that he fell into uncommon transports, and loaded herwith a thousand reproaches; he is just gone into her apartment again ingreat concern, but whether the reason is a more confirmed opinion thatthe Duchess had made a sacrifice of the ring, or for fear of havingdisobliged her by his anger, I can't tell.
"As soon as Monsieur d'Anville had told me this news, I acquaintedSancerre with it; I told it him as a secret newly entrusted with me,and charged him to say nothing of it.
"The next day I went early in the morning to my sister-in-law's, andfound Madam de Tournon at her bedside, who had no great kindness forthe Duchess of Valentinois, and knew very well that my sister-in-lawhad no reason to be satisfied with her. Sancerre had been with her,after he went from the play, and had acquainted her with the quarrelbetween the King and the Duchess; and Madam de Tournon was come to tellit to my sister-in-law, without knowing or suspecting that it was Ifrom whom her lover had it.
"As soon as I advanced toward my sister-in-law, she told Madam deTournon, that they might trust me with what she had been telling her;and without waiting Madam de Tournon's leave she related to me word byword all I had told Sancerre the night before. You may judge whatsurprise I was in; I looked hard at Madam de Tournon, and she seemeddisordered; her disorder gave me a suspicion. I had told the thing tonobody but Sancerre; he left me when the comedy was done, withoutgiving any reason for it; I remembered to have heard him speak much inpraise of Madam de Tournon all these things opened my eyes, and Ieasily discerned there was an intrigue between them, and that he hadseen her since he left me.
"I was so stung to find he had concealed this adventure from me, that Isaid several things which made Madam de Tournon sensible of theimprudence she had been guilty of; I led her back to her coach, andassured her, I envied the happiness of him who informed her of theKing's quarrel with the Duchess of Valentinois.
"I went immediately in search of Sancerre, and severely reproached him;I told him I knew of his passion for Madam de Tournon, without sayinghow I came by the discovery; he was forced to acknowledge it; Iafterwards informed him what led me into the knowledge of it, and heacquainted me with the detail of the whole affair; he told me, thatthough he was a younger brother, and far from being able to pretend toso good a match, nevertheless she was determined to marry him. I can'texpress the surprise I was in; I told Sancerre he would do well tohasten the conclusion of the marriage, and that there was nothing hehad not to fear from a woman who had the artifice to support, in theeye of the public, appearances so distant from truth; he gave me inanswer that she was really concerned for the loss of her husband, butthat the inclination she had for him had surmounted that affliction,and that she could not help discovering all on a sudden so great achange; he mentioned besides several other reasons in her excuse, whichconvinced me how desperately he was in love; he assured me he wouldbring her to consent that I should know his passion for her, especiallysince it was she herself who had made me suspect it; in a word, he didoblige her to it, though with a great deal of difficulty, and I grewafterwards very deep in their confidence.
"I never knew a lady behave herself in so genteel and agreeable amanner to her lover, but yet I was always shocked at the affectationshe showed in appearing so concerned for the loss of her husband.Sancerre was so much in love, and so well pleased with the treatment hereceived from her, that he scarce durst press her to conclude themarriage, for fear she should think he desired it rather out ofinterest than love; however he spoke to her of it, and she seemed fullybent on marrying him; she began also to abandon her reserved manner oflife, and to appear again in public; she visited my sister-in-law athours when some of the Court were usually there; Sancerre came therebut seldom, but those who came every night, and frequently saw herthere, thought her extremely beautiful.
"She had not long quitted her solitude, when Sancerre imagined that herpassion for him was cooled; he spoke of it several times to me: but Ilaid no great stress on the matter; but at last, when he told me, thatinstead of forwarding the marriage, she seemed to put it off, I beganto think he was not to blame for being uneasy: I remonstrated to him,that if Madam de Tournon's passion was abated after having continuedtwo years, he ought not to be surprised at it, and that even supposingit was not abated, possibly it might not be strong enough to induce herto marry him; that he ought not to complain of it; that such a marriagein the judgment of the public would draw censures upon her, not onlybecause he was not a suitable match for her, but also on account of theprejudice it would do her reputation that therefore all he coulddesire was, that she might not deceive him, nor lead him into falseexpectations; I told him further, that if she had not resolution enoughto marry him, or if she confessed she liked some other person better,he ought not to resent or be angry at it, but still continue his esteemand regard for her.
"I give you," said I, "the advice which I would take myself; forsincerity has such charms to me, that I believe if my mistress, or evenmy wife ingenuously confessed, she had a greater affection for anotherthan for me, I might be troubled, but not exasperated; I would layaside the character of a lover or a husband, to bestow my advice and mypity."
This discourse made Madam de Cleves blush, and she found in it acertain similitude of her own condition, which very much surprised her,and gave her a concern, from which she could not recover in a greatwhile.
"Sancerre spoke to Madam de Tournon," continued Monsieur de Cleves,"and told her all I had advised him; but she encouraged him with somany fresh assurances, and seemed so displeased at his suspicions, thatshe entirely removed them; nevertheless she deferred the marriage untilafter a pretty long journey he was to make; but she behaved herself sowell until his departure, and appeared so concerned at it, that Ibelieved as well as he, that she sincerely loved him. He set out aboutthree months ago; during his absence I have seldom seen Madam deTournon you have entirely taken me up, and I only knew that he wasspeedily expected.
"The day before yesterday, on my arrival at Paris, I heard she wasdead; I sent to his lodgings to enquire if they had any news of him,and word was brought me he came to town the night before, which wasprecisely the day that Madam de Tournon died; I immediately went to seehim, conclud
ing in what condition I should find him, but his afflictionfar surpassed what I had imagined.
"Never did I see a sorrow so deep and so tender; the moment he saw mehe embraced me with tears; 'I shall never see her more,' said he, 'Ishall never see her more, she is dead, I was not worthy of her, but Ishall soon follow her.'
"After this he was silent; and then, from time to time, continuallyrepeating 'She is dead, I shall never see her more,' he returned tolamentations and tears, and continued as a man bereft of reason. Hetold me he had not often received letters from her during his absence,but that he knew her too well to be surprised at it, and was sensiblehow shy and timorous she was of writing; he made no doubt but she wouldhave married him upon his return; he considered her as the most amiableand constant of her sex; he thought himself tenderly beloved by her; helost her the moment he expected to be united to her for ever; all thesethoughts threw him into so violent an affliction, that I own I wasdeeply touched with it.
"Nevertheless I was obliged to leave him to go to the King, butpromised to return immediately; accordingly I did, and I was never sosurprised as I was to find him entirely changed from what I had lefthim; he was standing in his chamber, his face full of fury, sometimeswalking, sometimes stopping short, as if he had been distracted;'Come,' says he, 'and see the most forlorn wretch in the world; I am athousand times more unhappy than I was a while ago, and what I havejust heard of Madam de Tournon is worse than her death.'
"I took what he said to be wholly the effect of grief, and could notimagine that there could be anything worse than the death of a mistressone loves and is beloved by; I told him, that so far as he kept hisgrief within bounds, I approved of it, and bore a part in it; but thatI should no longer pity him, if he abandoned himself to despair andflew from reason. 'I should be too happy if I had lost both my reasonand my life,' cried he; 'Madam de Tournon was false to me, and I aminformed of her unfaithfulness and treachery the very day after I wasinformed of her death; I am informed of it at a time when my soul isfilled with the most tender love, and pierced with the sharpest griefthat ever was; at a time when the idea of her in my heart, is that ofthe most perfect woman who ever lived, and the most perfect withrespect to me; I find I am mistaken, and that she does not deserve tobe lamented by me; nevertheless I have the same concern for her death,as if she had been true to me, and I have the same sensibility of herfalsehood, as if she were yet living; had I heard of her falsehoodbefore her death, jealousy, anger, and rage would have possessed me,and in some measure hardened me against the grief for her loss; but nowmy condition is such, that I am incapable of receiving comfort, and yetknow not how to hate her.'
"You may judge of the surprise I was in at what Sancerre told me; Iasked him how he came by the knowledge of it, and he told me that theminute I went away from him, Etouteville, who is his intimate friend,but who nevertheless knew nothing of his love for Madam de Tournon,came to see him; that as soon as he was sat down, he fell a-weeping,and asked his pardon for having concealed from him what he was going totell him, that he begged him to have compassion of him, that he wascome to open his heart to him, and that he was the person in the worldthe most afflicted for the death of Madam de Tournon.
"'That name,' said Sancerre, 'so astonished me, that though my firstintention was to tell him I was more afflicted than he, I had not thepower to speak: he continued to inform me, that he had been in lovewith her six months, that he was always desirous to let me know it, butshe had expressly forbid him; and in so authoritative a manner, that hedurst not disobey her; that he gained her in a manner as soon as hecourted her, that they concealed their mutual passion for each otherfrom the whole world, that he never visited her publicly, that he hadthe pleasure to remove her sorrow for her husband's death, and thatlastly he was to have married her at the very juncture in which shedied; but that this marriage, which was an effect of love, would haveappeared in her an effect of duty and obedience, she having prevailedupon her father to lay his commands on her to marry him, in order toavoid the appearance of too great an alteration in her conduct, whichhad seemed so averse to a second marriage.'
"'While Etouteville was speaking to me,' said Sancerre, 'I believed allhe said, because I found so much probability in it, and because thetime when he told me his passion for Madam de Tournon commenced, isprecisely the same with that when she appeared changed towards me; butthe next morning I thought him a liar, or at least an enthusiast, andwas upon the point of telling him so. Afterwards I came into aninclination of clearing up the matter, and proposed several questions,and laid my doubts before him, in a word, I proceeded so far toconvince myself of my misfortune, that he asked me if I knew Madam deTournon's handwriting, and with that threw upon my bed four letters ofhers and her picture; my brother came in that minute; Etouteville'sface was so full of tears, that he was forced to withdraw to avoidbeing observed, and said he would come again in the evening to fetchwhat he left with me; and as for me, I sent my brother away underpretence of being indisposed, so impatient was I to see the letters hehad left, and so full of hopes to find something there that might makeme disbelieve what Etouteville had been telling me; but alas! What didI not find there? What tenderness! what assurances of marriage! whatletters! She never wrote the like to me. Thus,' continued he, 'am Iat once pierced with anguish for her death and for her falsehood, twoevils which have been often compared, but never felt before by the sameperson at the same time; I confess, to my shame, that still I am moregrieved for her loss than for her change; I cannot think her guiltyenough, to consent to her death: were she living, I should have thesatisfaction to reproach her, and to revenge myself on her by makingher sensible of her injustice; but I shall see her no more, I shall seeher no more; this is the greatest misfortune of all others; would Icould restore her to life, though with the loss of my own! Yet what doI wish! If she were restored to life, she would live for Etouteville:how happy was I yesterday,' cried he, 'how happy! I was the mostafflicted man in the world; but my affliction was reasonable, and therewas something pleasing in the very thought that I was inconsolable;today all my sentiments are unjust; I pay to a feigned passion thetribute of my grief, which I thought I owed to a real one; I canneither hate nor love her memory; I am incapable of consolation, andyet don't know how to grieve for her; take care, I conjure you, that Inever see Etouteville; his very name raises horror in me; I know verywell I have no reason of complaint against him; I was to blame inconcealing from him my love for Madam de Tournon if he had known it,perhaps he would not have pursued her, perhaps she would not have beenfalse to me; he came to me to impart his sorrows, and I cannot but pityhim; alas! he had reason to love Madam de Tournon, he was beloved byher, and will never see her more: notwithstanding I perceive I can'thelp hating him; once more I conjure you take care I may not see him.'
"Sancerre burst afterwards into tears, began again to regret Madam deTournon, and to speak to her, as if she were present, and say thesoftest things in the world; from these transports he passed to hatred,to complaints, to reproaches and imprecations against her. When I sawhim in so desperate a condition, I found I should want somebody toassist me in appeasing his mind; accordingly I sent for his brother,whom I had left with the King; I met him in the anti-chamber, andacquainted him with Sancerre's condition: we gave the necessary ordersto prevent his seeing Etouteville, and employed part of the night inendeavouring to make him capable of reason this morning I found himyet more afflicted; his brother continued with him, and I returned toyou."
"'Tis impossible to be more surprised than I am," said Madam de Cleves;"I thought Madam de Tournon equally incapable of love and falsehood.""Address and dissimulation," replied Monsieur de Cleves, "cannot gofurther than she carried them; observe, that when Sancerre thought herlove to him was abated, it really was, and she began to loveEtouteville; she told the last that he removed her sorrow for herhusband's death, and that he was the cause of her quitting herretirement; Sancerre believed the cause was nothing but a resolutionshe had taken not to seem any longer
to be in such deep affliction shemade a merit to Etouteville of concealing her correspondence with him,and of seeming forced to marry him by her father's command, as if itwas an effect of the care she had of her reputation whereas it wasonly an artifice to forsake Sancerre, without his having reason toresent it: I must return," continued Monsieur de Cleves, "to see thisunhappy man, and I believe you would do well to go to Paris too; it istime for you to appear in the world again, and receive the numerousvisits which you can't well dispense with."
Madam de Cleves agreed to the proposal, and returned to Paris the nextday; she found herself much more easy with respect to the Duke deNemours than she had been; what her mother had told her on herdeath-bed, and her grief for her death, created a sort of suspension inher mind as to her passion for the Duke, which made her believe it wasquite effaced.
The evening of her arrival the Queen-Dauphin made her a visit, andafter having condoled with her, told her that in order to divert herfrom melancholy thoughts, she would let her know all that had passed atCourt in her absence; upon which she related to her a great manyextraordinary things; "but what I have the greatest desire to informyou of," added she, "is that it is certain the Duke de Nemours ispassionately in love; and that his most intimate friends are not onlynot entrusted in it, but can't so much as guess who the person is he isin love with; nevertheless this passion of his is so strong as to makehim neglect, or to speak more properly, abandon the hopes of a Crown."
The Queen-Dauphin afterwards related whatever had passed in England;"What I have just told you," continued she, "I had from Monsieurd'Anville; and this morning he informed me, that last night the Kingsent for the Duke de Nemours upon the subject of Lignerol's letters,who desires to return, and wrote to his Majesty that he could no longerexcuse to the Queen of England the Duke of Nemours's delay; that shebegins to be displeased at it; and though she has not positively givenher promise, she has said enough to encourage him to come over; theKing showed this letter to the Duke of Nemours, who instead of speakingseriously as he had done at the beginning of this affair, only laughedand trifled, and made a jest of Lignerol's expectations: He said, 'Thewhole world would censure his imprudence, if he ventured to go toEngland, with the pretensions of marrying the Queen, without beingsecure of success; I think,' added he, 'I should time my business veryill to go to England now, when the King of Spain uses such pressinginstances to obtain the Queen in marriage; the Spanish King perhapswould not be a very formidable rival in matters of gallantry, but in atreaty of marriage I believe your Majesty would not advise me to be hiscompetitor.' 'I would advise you to it upon this occasion,' replied theKing; 'but however you will have no competitor in him; I know he hasquite other thoughts; and though he had not, Queen Mary found herselfso uneasy under the weight of the Spanish Crown, that I can't believeher sister will be very desirous of it.' 'If she should not,' repliedthe Duke of Nemours, 'it is probable she will seek her happiness inlove; she has been in love with my Lord Courtenay for several years;Queen Mary too was in love with him, and would have married him withconsent of the states of her kingdom, had not she known that the youthand beauty of her sister Elizabeth had more charms for him than hercrown; your Majesty knows, that the violence of her jealousy carriedher so far, as to imprison them both, and afterwards to banish my LordCourtenay, and at last determined her to marry the King of Spain; Ibelieve Queen Elizabeth will soon recall that Lord, and make choice ofa man whom she loves, who deserves her love, and who has suffered somuch for her, in preference to another whom she never saw.' 'I shouldbe of that opinion,' replied the King, 'if my Lord Courtenay wereliving, but I received advice some days ago, that he died at Padua,whither he was banished: I plainly see,' added the King, as he left theDuke, 'that your marriage must be concluded the same way the Dauphin'swas, and that ambassadors must be sent to marry the Queen of Englandfor you.'
"Monsieur d'Anville and the Viscount, who were with the King when hespoke to the Duke of Nemours, are persuaded that it is the passion heis so deeply engaged in, which diverts him from so great a design; theViscount, who sees deeper into him than anybody, told Madam de Martignythat he was so changed he did not know him again; and what astonisheshim more is, that he does not find he has any private interviews, orthat he is ever missing at particular times, so that he believes he hasno correspondence with the person he is in love with; and that whichsurprises him in the Duke is to see him in love with a woman who doesnot return his love."
What poison did this discourse of the Queen-Dauphin carry in it forMadam de Cleves? How could she but know herself to be the person whosename was not known, and how could she help being filled with tendernessand gratitude, when she learned, by a way not in the least liable tosuspicion, that the Duke, who had already touched her heart, concealedhis passion from the whole world, and neglected for her sake the hopesof a Crown? It is impossible to express what she felt, or to describethe tumult that was raised in her soul. Had the Queen-Dauphin observedher closely, she might easily have discerned, that what she had beensaying was not indifferent to her; but as she had not the leastsuspicion of the truth, she continued her discourse without mindingher: "Monsieur d'Anville," added she, "from whom, as I just told you,I had all this, believes I know more of it than himself, and he has sogreat an opinion of my beauty, that he is satisfied I am the onlyperson capable of creating so great a change in the Duke of Nemours."
These last words of the Queen-Dauphin gave Madam de Cleves a sort ofuneasiness very different from that which she had a few minutes before."I can easily come into Monsieur d'Anville's opinion," answered she;"and 'tis very probable, Madam, that nothing less than a Princess ofyour merit could make him despise the Queen of England." "I would ownit to you, if I knew it," replied the Queen-Dauphin, "and I should knowit, if it were true; such passions as these never escape the sight ofthose who occasion them; they are the first to discern them; the Dukeof Nemours has never showed me anything but slight complaisances; andyet I find so great a difference betwixt his present and formerbehaviour to me, that I can assure you, I am not the cause of theindifference he expresses for the Crown of England.
"But I forget myself in your company," added the Queen-Dauphin, "anddon't remember that I am to wait upon Madame: you know the peace is asgood as concluded, but perhaps you don't know that the King of Spainhas refused to sign it, but on condition of marrying this Princess,instead of the Prince Don Carlos, his son: the King was with greatdifficulty brought to allow it, but at last he has consented, and isgone to carry the news to Madame; I believe she will be inconsolable.To marry a man of the King of Spain's age and temper can never bepleasing, especially to her who has all the gaiety which the bloom ofyouth joined with beauty inspires, and was in expectation of marrying ayoung Prince for whom she has an inclination without having seen him.I do not know whether the King will find in her all the obedience hedesires; he has charged me to see her, because he knows she loves me,and believes I shall be able to influence her. From thence I shallmake a visit of a very different nature, to congratulate the King'ssister. All things are ready for her marriage with the Prince ofSavoy, who is expected in a few days. Never was a woman of her age soentirely pleased to be married; the Court will be more numerous andsplendid than ever, and notwithstanding your grief, you must come amongus, in order to make strangers see that we are furnished with no meanbeauties."
Having said this, the Queen-Dauphin took her leave of Madam de Cleves,and the next day Madame's marriage was publicly known; some days afterthe King and the Queens went to visit the Princess of Cleves; the Dukede Nemours, who had expected her return with the utmost impatience, andlanguished for an opportunity of speaking to her in private, contrivedto wait upon her at an hour, when the company would probably bewithdrawing, and nobody else come in; he succeeded in his design, andcame in when the last visitors were going away.
The Princess was sitting on her bed, and the hot weather, together withthe sight of the Duke de Nemours, gave her a blush that added to herbeauty; he sat over against her w
ith a certain timorous respect, thatflows from a real love; he continued some minutes without speaking; norwas she the less at a loss, so that they were both silent a good while:at last the Duke condoled with her for her mother's death; Madam deCleves was glad to give the conversation that turn, spoke aconsiderable time of the great loss she had had, and at last said, thatthough time had taken off from the violence of her grief, yet theimpression would always remain so strong, that it would entirely changeher humour. "Great troubles and excessive passions," replied the Duke,"make great alterations in the mind; as for me, I am quite another mansince my return from Flanders; abundance of people have taken notice ofthis change, and the Queen-Dauphin herself spoke to me of ityesterday." "It is true," replied the Princess, "she has observed it,and I think I remember to have heard her say something about it." "I'mnot sorry, Madam," replied the Duke, "that she has discerned it, but Icould wish some others in particular had discerned it too; there arepersons to whom we dare give no other evidences of the passion we havefor them, but by things which do not concern them; and when we dare notlet them know we love them, we should be glad at least to have them seewe are not desirous of being loved by any other; we should be glad toconvince them, that no other beauty, though of the highest rank, hasany charms for us, and that a Crown would be too dear, if purchasedwith no less a price than absence from her we adore: women ordinarily,"continued he, "judge of the passion one has for them, by the care onetakes to oblige, and to be assiduous about them; but it's no hardmatter to do this, though they be ever so little amiable; not to giveoneself up to the pleasure of pursuing them, to shun them through fearof discovering to the public, and in a manner to themselves, thesentiments one has for them, here lies the difficulty; and what stillmore demonstrates the truth of one's passion is, the becoming entirelychanged from what one was, and the having no longer a gust either forambition or pleasure, after one has employed one's whole life inpursuit of both."
The Princess of Cleves readily apprehended how far she was concerned inthis discourse; one while she seemed of opinion that she ought not tosuffer such an address; another, she thought she ought not to seem tounderstand it, or show she supposed herself meant by it; she thoughtshe ought to speak, and she thought she ought to be silent; the Duke ofNemours's discourse equally pleased and offended her; she was convincedby it of the truth of all the Queen-Dauphin had led her to think; shefound in it somewhat gallant and respectful, but also somewhat bold andtoo intelligible; the inclination she had for the Duke gave her ananxiety which it was not in her power to control; the most obscureexpressions of a man that pleases, move more than the most opendeclaration of one we have no liking for; she made no answer; the Dukede Nemours took notice of her silence, which perhaps would have provedno ill-presage, if the coming in of the Prince of Cleves had not endedat once the conversation and the visit.
The Prince was coming to give his wife a further account of Sancerre,but she was not over curious to learn the sequel of that adventure; shewas so much taken up with what had just passed, that she could hardlyconceal the embarrassment she was in. When she was at liberty to museupon it, she plainly saw she was mistaken, when she thought she wasindifferent as to the Duke de Nemours; what he had said to her had madeall the impression he could desire, and had entirely convinced her ofhis passion besides the Duke's actions agreed too well with his wordsto leave her the least doubt about it; she no longer flattered herselfthat she did not love him; all her care was not to let him discover it,a task of which she had already experienced the difficulty; she knewthe only way to succeed in it was to avoid seeing him; and as hermourning gave her an excuse for being more retired than usual, she madeuse of that pretence not to go to places where he might see her; shewas full of melancholy; her mother's death was the seeming cause of it,and no suspicion was had of any other.
The Duke de Nemours, not seeing her any more, fell into desperation andknowing he should not meet with her in any public assembly, or at anydiversions the Court joined in, he could not prevail upon himself toappear there, and therefore he pretended a great love for hunting, andmade matches for that sport on the days when the Queens kept theirassemblies; a slight indisposition had served him a good while as anexcuse for staying at home, and declining to go to places where he knewvery well that Madam de Cleves would not be.
The Prince of Cleves was ill almost at the same time, and the Princessnever stirred out of his room during his illness; but when he grewbetter, and received company, and among others the Duke de Nemours, whounder pretence of being yet weak, stayed with him the greatest part ofthe day, she found she could not continue any longer there; and yet inthe first visits he made she had not the resolution to go out; she hadbeen too long without seeing him, to be able to resolve to see him nomore; the Duke had the address, by discourses that appeared altogethergeneral, but which she understood very well by the relation they had towhat he had said privately to her, to let her know that he wenta-hunting only to be more at liberty to think of her, and that thereason of his not going to the assemblies was her not being there.
At last she executed the resolution she had taken to go out of herhusband's room, whenever he was there, though this was doing the utmostviolence to herself: the Duke perceived she avoided him, and thethought of it touched him to the heart.
The Prince of Cleves did not immediately take notice of his wife'sconduct in this particular, but at last he perceived she went out ofthe room when there was company there; he spoke to her of it, and shetold him that she did not think it consistent with decency to be everyevening among the gay young courtiers; that she hoped he would allowher to live in a more reserved manner than she had done hitherto, thatthe virtue and presence of her mother authorised her in many libertieswhich could not otherwise be justified in a woman of her age.
Monsieur de Cleves, who had a great deal of facility and complaisancefor his wife, did not show it on this occasion, but told her he wouldby no means consent to her altering her conduct; she was upon the pointof telling him, it was reported that the Duke de Nemours was in lovewith her, but she had not the power to name him; besides she thought itdisingenuous to disguise the truth, and make use of pretences to a manwho had so good an opinion of her.
Some days after the King was with the Queen at the assembly hour, andthe discourse turned upon nativities and predictions; the company weredivided in their opinion as to what credit ought to be given to them;the Queen professed to have great faith in them, and maintained thatafter so many things had come to pass as they had been foretold, onecould not doubt but there was something of certainty in that science;others affirmed, that of an infinite number of predictions so very fewproved true, that the truth of those few ought to be looked upon as aneffect of chance.
"I have formerly been very curious and inquisitive as to futurity,"said the King, "but I have seen so many false and improbable things,that I am satisfied there is no truth in that pretended art. Not manyyears since there came hither a man of great reputation in astrology;everybody went to see him; I went among others, but without saying whoI was, and I carried with me the Duke of Guise and Descars, and madethem go in first; nevertheless the astrologer addressed himself firstto me, as if he had concluded me to be their master; perhaps he knewme, and yet he told me one thing that was very unsuitable to mycharacter, if he had known me; his prediction was that I should bekilled in a duel; he told the Duke of Guise, that he should die of awound received behind; and he told Descars he should be knocked of thehead by the kick of a horse; the Duke of Guise was a little angry atthe prediction, as if it imported he should run away; nor was Descarsbetter pleased to find he was to make his exit by so unfortunate anaccident; in a word, we went away all three of us very much out ofhumour with the astrologer; I don't know what will happen to the Dukeof Guise and Descars, but there is not much probability of my beingkilled in a duel; the King of Spain and I have just made peace, and ifwe had not, I question whether we should have fought, or if I shouldhave challenged him, as the King my father did Charl
es the Fifth."
After the King had related the misfortune that was foretold him, thosewho had defended astrology abandoned the argument, and agreed there wasno credit to be given to it: "For my part," said the Duke de Nemoursaloud, "I have the least reason of any man in the world to credit it";and then turning himself to Madam de Cleves, near whom he stood, "ithas been foretold me," says he very softly, "that I should be happy ina person for whom I should have the most violent and respectfulpassion you may judge, Madam, if I ought to believe in predictions."
The Queen-Dauphin, who believed, from what the Duke had spoke aloud,that what he whispered was some false prediction that had been toldhim, asked him what it was he said to Madam de Cleves; had he had aless ready wit, he would have been surprised at this question butwithout any hesitation, "What I said to her, Madam," answered he, "was,that it had been predicted to me, that I should be raised to a higherfortune than my most sanguine hopes could lead me to expect." "Ifnothing have been foretold you but this," replied the Queen-Dauphin,smiling, and thinking of the affair of England, "I would not advise youto decry astrology; you may have reasons hereafter to offer in defenceof it." Madam de Cleves apprehended the Queen-Dauphin's meaning, butknew withal, that the fortune the Duke of Nemours spoke of was not thatof being King of England.
The time of her mourning being expired, the Princess of Cleves wasobliged to make her appearance again, and go to Court as usual; she sawthe Duke de Nemours at the Queen-Dauphin's apartment; she saw him atthe Prince of Cleves's, where he often came in company of other youngnoblemen, to avoid being remarked; yet she never once saw him, but itgave her a pain that could not escape his observation.
However industrious she was to avoid being looked at by him, and tospeak less to him than to any other, some things escaped her in anunguarded moment, which convinced him he was not indifferent to her; aman of less discernment than he would not have perceived it, but he hadalready so often been the object of love, that it was easy for him toknow when he was loved; he found the Chevalier de Guise was his rival,and the Chevalier knew that the Duke de Nemours was his; Monsieur deGuise was the only man in the Court that had unravelled this affair,his interest having made him more clear-sighted than others; theknowledge they had of each other's sentiments created an oppositionbetween them in everything, which, however, did not break out into anopen quarrel; they were always of different parties at the running, atthe ring, at tournaments, and all diversions the King delighted in, andtheir emulation was so great it could not be concealed.
Madam de Cleves frequently revolved in her mind the affair of England;she believed the Duke de Nemours could not resist the advice of theKing, and the instances of Lignerolles; she was very much concerned tofind that Lignerolles was not yet returned, and she impatientlyexpected him; her inclinations strongly swayed her to inform herselfexactly of the state of this affair; but the same reasons, which raisedin her that curiosity, obliged her to conceal it, and she only enquiredof the beauty, the wit, and the temper of Queen Elizabeth. A pictureof that Princess had been brought the King, which Madam de Cleves foundmuch handsomer than she could have wished for, and she could notforbear saying, the picture flattered. "I don't think so," replied theQueen-Dauphin; "that Princess has the reputation of being veryhandsome, and of having a very exalted genius, and I know she hasalways been proposed to me as a model worthy my imitation she can'tbut be very handsome, if she resembles her mother, Anne Boleyn; neverhad woman so many charms and allurements both in her person and herhumour; I have heard say she had something remarkably lively in hercountenance, very different from what is usually found in other Englishbeauties." "I think," replied Madam de Cleves, "'tis said she was bornin France." "Those who imagine so are mistaken," replied theQueen-Dauphin; "I'll give you her history in a few words.
"She was of a good family in England; Henry the Eighth was in love withher sister and her mother, and it has been even suspected by some, thatshe was his daughter; she came to France with Henry the Seventh'ssister, who married Louis XII that Princess, who was full of youth andgallantry, left the Court of France with great reluctance after herhusband's death; but Anne Boleyn, who had the same inclinations as hermistress, could not prevail with herself to go away; the late King wasin love with her, and she continued maid of honour to Queen Claude;that Queen died, and Margaretta, the King's sister, Duchess of Alenson,and since Queen of Navarre, whose story you know, took her into herservice, where she imbibed the principles of the new religion shereturned afterwards to England, and there charmed all the world; shehad the manners of France, which please in all countries; she sungwell, she danced finely; she was a maid of honour to Queen Catherine,and Henry the Eighth fell desperately in love with her.
"Cardinal Wolsey, his favourite and first minister, being dissatisfiedwith the Emperor for not having favoured his pretensions to the Papacy,in order to revenge himself of him, contrived an alliance betweenFrance and the King his master; he put it into the head of Henry theEighth, that his marriage with the Emperor's aunt was null, and advisedhim to marry the Duchess of Alenson, whose husband was just dead; AnneBoleyn, who was not without ambition, considered Queen Catherine'sdivorce as a means that would bring her to the Crown; she began to givethe King of England impressions of the Lutheran religion, and engagedthe late King to favour at Rome Henry the Eighth's divorce, in hopes ofhis marrying the Duchess of Alenson Cardinal Wolsey, that he mighthave an opportunity of treating this affair, procured himself to besent to France upon other pretences; but his master was so far frompermitting him to propose this marriage, that he sent him expressorders to Calais not to speak of it.
"Cardinal Wolsey, at his return from France, was received with as greathonours as could have been paid to the King himself; never did anyfavourite carry his pride and vanity to so great a height; he managedan interview between the two Kings at Boulogne, when Francis the Firstwould have given the upperhand to Henry the Eighth, but he refused toaccept it; they treated one another by turns with the utmostmagnificence, and presented to each habits of the same sort with thosethey wore themselves. I remember to have heard say, that those the lateKing sent to the King of England were of crimson satin beset all overwith pearls and diamonds, and a robe of white velvet embroidered withgold; after having stayed some time at Boulogne, they went to Calais.Anne Boleyn was lodged in Henry the Eighth's Court with the train of aQueen; and Francis the First made her the same presents, and paid herthe same honours as if she had been really so: in a word, after apassion of nine year's continuance King Henry married her, withoutwaiting for the dissolving of his first marriage. The Popeprecipitately thundered out excommunications against him, which soprovoked King Henry, that he declared himself head of the Church, anddrew after him all England into the unhappy change in which you see it.
"Anne Boleyn did not long enjoy her greatness; for when she thoughtherself most secure of it by the death of Queen Catherine, one day asshe was seeing a match of running at the ring made by the ViscountRochefort her brother, the King was struck with such a jealousy, thathe abruptly left the show, went away to London, and gave orders forarresting the Queen, the Viscount Rochefort, and several others whom hebelieved to be the lovers or confidants of that Princess. Though thisjealousy in appearance had its birth that moment, the King had beenlong possessed with it by the Viscountess Rochefort, who not being ableto bear the strict intimacy between her husband and the Queen,represented it to the King as a criminal commerce; so that that Prince,who was besides in love with Jane Seymour, thought of nothing butridding himself of Anne Boleyn; and in less than three weeks he causedthe Queen and her brother to be tried, had them both beheaded, and,married Jane Seymour. He had afterwards several wives, whom hedivorced or put to death; and among others Catherine Howard, whoseconfidant the Viscountess Rochefort was, and who was beheaded with her:thus was she punished for having falsely accused Anne Boleyn. AndHenry the Eighth died, being become excessive fat."
All the ladies, that were present when the Queen-Dauphin made thisrelation
, thanked her for having given them so good an account of theCourt of England; and among the rest Madam de Cleves, who could notforbear asking several questions concerning Queen Elizabeth.
The Queen-Dauphin caused pictures in miniature to be drawn of all thebeauties of the Court, in order to send them to the Queen her mother.One day, when that of Madam de Cleves was finishing, the Queen-Dauphincame to spend the afternoon with her; the Duke de Nemours did not failto be there; he let slip no opportunities of seeing Madam de Cleves,yet without appearing to contrive them. She looked so pretty that day,that he would have fell in love with her, though he had not been sobefore: however he durst not keep his eyes fixed upon her, while shewas sitting for her picture, for fear of showing too much the pleasurehe took in looking at her.
The Queen-Dauphin asked Monsieur de Cleves for a little picture he hadof his wife's, to compare it with that which was just drawn; everybodygave their judgment of the one and the other; and Madam de Clevesordered the painter to mend something in the headdress of that whichhad been just brought in; the painter in obedience to her took thepicture out of the case in which it was, and having mended it laid itagain on the table.
The Duke de Nemours had long wished to have a picture of Madam deCleves; when he saw that which Monsieur de Cleves had, he could notresist the temptation of stealing it from a husband, who, he believed,was tenderly loved; and he thought that among so many persons as werein the same room he should be no more liable to suspicion than another.
The Queen-Dauphin was sitting on the bed, and whispering to Madam deCleves, who was standing before her. Madam de Cleves, through one ofthe curtains that was but half-drawn, spied the Duke de Nemours withhis back to the table, that stood at the bed's feet, and perceived thatwithout turning his face he took something very dextrously from off thetable; she presently guessed it was her picture, and was in suchconcern about it, that the Queen-Dauphin observed she did not attend towhat she said, and asked her aloud what it was she looked at. At thosewords, the Duke de Nemours turned about, and met full the eyes of Madamde Cleves that were still fixed upon him; he thought it not impossiblebut she might have seen what he had done.
Madam de Cleves was not a little perplexed; it was reasonable to demandher picture of him; but to demand it publicly was to discover to thewhole world the sentiments which the Duke had for her, and to demand itin private would be to engage him to speak of his love; she judgedafter all it was better to let him keep it, and she was glad to granthim a favour which she could do without his knowing that she grantedit. The Duke de Nemours, who observed her perplexity, and partlyguessed the cause of it, came up, and told her softly, "If you haveseen what I have ventured to do, be so good, Madam, as to let mebelieve you are ignorant of it; I dare ask no more"; having said thishe withdrew, without waiting for her answer.
The Queen-Dauphin went to take a walk, attended with the rest of theladies; and the Duke de Nemours went home to shut himself up in hiscloset, not being able to support in public the ecstasy he was in onhaving a picture of Madam de Cleves; he tasted everything that wassweet in love; he was in love with the finest woman of the Court; hefound she loved him against her will, and saw in all her actions thatsort of care and embarrassment which love produces in young andinnocent hearts.
At night great search was made for the picture; and having found thecase it used to be kept in, they never suspected it had been stolen butthought it might have fallen out by chance. The Prince of Cleves wasvery much concerned for the loss of it; and after having searched forit a great while to no purpose, he told his wife, but with an air thatshowed he did not think so, that without doubt she had some secretlover, to whom she had given the picture, or who had stole it, and thatnone but a lover would have been contented with the picture without thecase.
These words, though spoke in jest, made a lively impression in the mindof Madam de Cleves; they gave her remorse, and she reflected on theviolence of her inclination which hurried her on to love the Duke ofNemours; she found she was no longer mistress of her words orcountenance; she imagined that Lignerolles was returned, that she hadnothing to fear from the affair of England, nor any cause to suspectthe Queen-Dauphin; in a word, that she had no refuge or defence againstthe Duke de Nemours but by retiring; but as she was not at her libertyto retire, she found herself in a very great extremity and ready tofall into the last misfortune, that of discovering to the Duke theinclination she had for him: she remembered all that her mother hadsaid to her on her death-bed, and the advice which she gave her, toenter on any resolutions, however difficult they might be, rather thanengage in gallantry; she remembered also what Monsieur de Cleves hadtold her, when he gave an account of Madam de Tournon she thought sheought to acknowledge to him the inclination she had for the Duke deNemours, and in that thought she continued a long time; afterwards shewas astonished to have entertained so ridiculous a design, and fellback again into her former perplexity of not knowing what to choose.
The peace was signed; and the Lady Elizabeth, after a great deal ofreluctance, resolved to obey the King her father. The Duke of Alva wasappointed to marry her in the name of the Catholic King, and was verysoon expected. The Duke of Savoy too, who was to marry the King'ssister, and whose nuptials were to be solemnised at the same time, wasexpected every day. The King thought of nothing but how to grace thesemarriages with such diversions as might display the politeness andmagnificence of his Court. Interludes and comedies of the best kindwere proposed, but the King thought those entertainments too private,and desired to have somewhat of a more splendid nature: he resolved tomake a solemn tournament, to which strangers might be invited, and ofwhich the people might be spectators. The princes and young lords verymuch approved the King's design, especially the Duke of Ferrara,Monsieur de Guise, and the Duke de Nemours, who surpassed the rest inthese sorts of exercises. The King made choice of them to be togetherwith himself the four champions of the tournament.
Proclamation was made throughout the kingdom, that on the 15th of Junein the City of Paris, his most Christian Majesty, and the PrincesAlphonso d'Ete Duke of Ferrara, Francis of Loraine Duke of Guise, andJames of Savoy Duke of Nemours would hold an open tournament againstall comers. The first combat to be on horse-back in the lists, withdouble armour, to break four lances, and one for the ladies; the secondcombat with swords, one to one, or two to two, as the judges of thefield should direct; the third combat on foot, three pushes of pikes,and six hits with the sword. The champions to furnish lances, swords,and pikes, at the choice of the combatants. Whoever did not manage hishorse in the carreer to be put out of the lists; four judges of thefield to give orders. The combatants who should break most lances andperform best to carry the prize, the value whereof to be at thediscretion of the judges; all the combatants, as well French asstrangers, to be obliged to touch one or more, at their choice, of theshields that should hang on the pillar at the end of the lists, where aherald at arms should be ready to receive them, and enroll themaccording to their quality, and the shields they had touched; thecombatants to be obliged to cause their shields and arms to be broughtby a gentleman and hung up at the pillar three days before thetournament, otherwise not to be admitted without leave of the champions.
A spacious list was made near the Bastille, which begun from theChateau des Tournelles and crossed the street of St. Anthony, andextended as far as the King's stables; on both sides were builtscaffolds and amphitheatres, which formed a sort of galleries that madea very fine sight, and were capable of containing an infinite number ofpeople. The princes and lords were wholly taken up in providing whatwas necessary for a splendid appearance, and in mingling in theircyphers and devices somewhat of gallantry that had relation to theladies they were in love with.
A few days before the Duke of Alva's arrival, the King made a match attennis with the Duke de Nemours, the Chevalier de Guise, and theViscount de Chartres. The Queens came to see them play, attended withthe ladies of the Court, and among others Madam de Cleves. After thegame was ended, as they
went out of the tennis court, Chatelart came upto the Queen-Dauphin, and told her fortune had put into his hands aletter of gallantry, that dropped out of the Duke de Nemours's pocket.This Queen, who was always very curious in what related to the Duke,bid Chatelart give her the letter; he did so, and she followed theQueen her mother-in-law, who was going with the King to see them workat the lists. After they had been there some time, the King causedsome horses to be brought that had been lately taken in, and thoughthey were not as yet thoroughly managed, he was for mounting one ofthem, and ordered his attendants to mount others; the King and the Dukede Nemours hit upon the most fiery and high mettled of them. Thehorses were ready to fall foul on one another, when the Duke ofNemours, for fear of hurting the King, retreated abruptly, and ran backhis horse against a pillar with so much violence that the shock of itmade him stagger. The company ran up to him, and he was thoughtconsiderably hurt; but the Princess of Cleves thought the hurt muchgreater than anyone else. The interest she had in it gave her anapprehension and concern which she took no care to conceal; she came upto him with the Queens, and with a countenance so changed, that oneless concerned than the Chevalier de Guise might have perceived it:perceive it he immediately did, and was much more intent upon thecondition Madam de Cleves was in, than upon that of the Duke deNemours. The blow the Duke had given himself had so stunned him, thathe continued some time leaning his head on those who supported him;when he raised himself up, he immediately viewed Madam de Cleves, andsaw in her face the concern she was in for him, and he looked upon herin a manner which made her sense how much he was touched with it:afterwards he thanked the Queens for the goodness they had expressed tohim, and made apologies for the condition he had been in before them;and then the King ordered him to go to rest.
Madam de Cleves, after she was recovered from the fright she had beenin, presently reflected on the tokens she had given of it. TheChevalier de Guise did not suffer her to continue long in the hope thatnobody had perceived it, but giving her his hand to lead her out of thelists: "I have more cause to complain, Madam," said he, "than the Dukede Nemours; pardon me, if I forget for a moment that profound respect Ihave always had for you, and show you how much my heart is grieved forwhat my eyes have just seen; this is the first time I have ever been sobold as to speak to you, and it will be the last. Death or at leasteternal absence will remove me from a place where I can live no longer,since I have now lost the melancholy comfort I had of believing thatall who behold you with love are as unhappy as myself."
Madam de Cleves made only a confused answer, as if she had notunderstood what the Chevalier's words meant: at another time she wouldhave been offended if he had mentioned the passion he had for her; butat this moment she felt nothing but the affliction to know that he hadobserved the passion she had for the Duke de Nemours. The Chevalier deGuise was so well convinced of it, and so pierced with grief, that fromthat moment he took a resolution never to think of being loved by Madamde Cleves; but that he might the better be able to quit a passion whichhe had thought so difficult and so glorious, it was necessary to makechoice of some other undertaking worthy of employing him; he had hisview on Rhodes: the taking of which he had formerly had some idea of;and when death snatched him away, in the flower of his youth, and at atime when he had acquired the reputation of one of the greatest Princesof his age, the only regret he had to part with life was, that he hadnot been able to execute so noble a resolution, the success whereof hethought infallible from the great care he had taken about it.
Madam de Cleves, when she came out of the lists, went to the Queen'sapartment, with her thoughts wholly taken up with what had passed. TheDuke de Nemours came there soon after, richly dressed, and like onewholly unsensible of the accident that had befallen him; he appearedeven more gay than usual, and the joy he was in for what he haddiscovered, gave him an air that very much increased his naturalagreeableness. The whole Court was surprised when he came in; andthere was nobody but asked him how he did, except Madam de Cleves, whostayed near the chimney pretending not to see him. The King coming outof his closet, and seeing him among others called him to talk to himabout his late accident. The Duke passed by Madam de Cleves, and saidsoftly to her, "Madam, I have received this day some marks of yourpity, but they were not such as I am most worthy of." Madam de Clevessuspected that he had taken notice of the concern she had been in forhim, and what he now said convinced her she was not mistaken; it gaveher a great deal of concern to find she was so little mistress ofherself as not to have been able to conceal her inclinations from theChevalier de Guise; nor was she the less concerned to see that the Dukede Nemours was acquainted with them; yet this last grief was not soentire, but there was a certain mixture of pleasure in it.
The Queen-Dauphin, who was extremely impatient to know what there wasin the letter which Chatelart had given her, came up to Madam deCleves. "Go read this letter," says she; "'tis addressed to the Dukede Nemours, and was probably sent him by the mistress for whom he hasforsaken all others; if you can't read it now, keep it, and bring it meabout bedtime and inform me if you know the hand." Having said this,the Queen-Dauphin went away from Madam de Cleves, and left her in suchastonishment, that she was not able for some time to stir out of theplace. The impatience and grief she was in not permitting her to stayat Court, she went home before her usual hour of retirement; shetrembled with the letter in her hand, her thoughts were full ofconfusion, and she experienced I know not what of insupportable grief,that she had never felt before. No sooner was she in her closet, butshe opened the letter and found it as follows:
I have loved you too well to leave you in a belief that the change youobserve in me is an effect of lightness; I must inform you that yourfalsehood is the cause of it; you will be surprised to hear me speak ofyour falsehood; you have dissembled it with so much skill, and I havetaken so much care to conceal my knowledge of it from you, that youhave reason to be surprised at the discovery; I am myself in wonder,that I have discovered nothing of it to you before; never was griefequal to mine; I thought you had the most violent passion for me, I didnot conceal that which I had for you, and at the time that Iacknowledged it to you without reserve, I found that you deceived me,that you loved another, and that in all probability I was made asacrifice to this new mistress. I knew it the day you run at the ring,and this was the reason I was not there; at first I pretended anindisposition in order to conceal my sorrow, but afterwards I reallyfell into one, nor could a constitution delicate like mine support soviolent a shock. When I began to be better, I still counterfeitedsickness, that I might have an excuse for not seeing and for notwriting to you; besides I was willing to have time to come to aresolution in what manner to deal with you; I took and quitted the sameresolution twenty times; but at last I concluded you deserved not tosee my grief, and I resolved not to show you the least mark of it. Ihad a desire to bring down your pride, by letting you see, that mypassion for you declined of itself: I thought I should by this lessenthe value of the sacrifice you had made of me, and was loth you shouldhave the pleasure of appearing more amiable in the eyes of another, byshowing her how much I loved you; I resolved to write to you in a coldand languishing manner, that she, to whom you gave my letters, mightperceive my love was at an end: I was unwilling she should have thesatisfaction of knowing I was sensible that she triumphed over me, orthat she should increase her triumph by my despair and complaints. Ithought I should punish you too little by merely breaking with you, andthat my ceasing to love you would give you but a slight concern, afteryou had first forsaken me; I found it was necessary you should love me,to feel the smart of not being loved, which I so severely experiencedmyself; I was of opinion that if anything could rekindle that flame, itwould be to let you see that mine was extinguished, but to let you seeit through an endeavour to conceal it from you, as if I wanted thepower to acknowledge it to you: this resolution I adhered to; I foundit difficult to take, and when I saw you again I thought it impossibleto execute. I was ready a hundred times to break out
into tears andcomplaints; my ill state of health, which still continued, served as adisguise to hide from you the affliction and trouble I was in;afterward I was supported by the pleasure of dissembling with you, asyou had done with me; however it was doing so apparent a violence tomyself to tell you or to write to you that I loved you, that youimmediately perceived I had no mind to let you see my affection wasaltered; you was touched with this, you complained of it; I endeavouredto remove your fears, but it was done in so forced a manner, that youwere still more convinced by it, I no longer loved you; in short, I didall I intended to do. The fantasticalness of your heart was such, thatyou advanced towards me in proportion as you saw I retreated from you.I have enjoyed all the pleasure which can arise from revenge; I plainlysaw, that you loved me more than you had ever done, and I showed you Ihad no longer any love for you. I had even reason to believe that youhad entirely abandoned her, for whom you had forsaken me; I had groundtoo to be satisfied you had never spoken to her concerning me; butneither your discretion in that particular, nor the return of youraffection can make amends for your inconstancy; your heart has beendivided between me and another, and you have deceived me; this issufficient wholly to take from me the pleasure I found in being lovedby you, as I thought I deserved to be, and to confirm me in theresolution I have taken never to see you more, which you are so muchsurprised at.
Madam de Cleves read this letter, and read it over again several times,without knowing at the same time what she had read; she saw only thatthe Duke de Nemours did not love her as she imagined and that he lovedothers who were no less deceived by him than she. What a discovery wasthis for a person in her condition, who had a violent passion, who hadjust given marks of it to a man whom she judged unworthy of it, and toanother whom she used ill for his sake! Never was affliction socutting as hers; she imputed the piercingness of it to what hadhappened that day, and believed that if the Duke de Nemours had not hadground to believe she loved him she should not have cared whether heloved another or not; but she deceived herself, and this evil which shefound so insupportable was jealousy with all the horrors it can beaccompanied with. This letter discovered to her a piece of gallantrythe Duke de Nemours had been long engaged in; she saw the lady whowrote it was a person of wit and merit, and deserved to be loved; shefound she had more courage than herself, and envied her the power shehad had of concealing her sentiments from the Duke de Nemours; by theclose of the letter, she saw this lady thought herself beloved, andpresently suspected that the discretion the Duke had showed in hisaddresses to her, and which she had been so much taken with, was onlyan effect of his passion for this other mistress, whom he was afraid ofdisobliging; in short, she thought of everything that could add to hergrief and despair. What reflections did she not make on herself, andon the advices her mother had given her I how did she repent, that shehad not persisted in her resolution of retiring, though against thewill of Monsieur de Cleves, or that she had not pursued her intentionsof acknowledging to him the inclination she had for the Duke ofNemours! She was convinced, she would have done better to discover itto a husband, whose goodness she was sensible of, and whose interest itwould have been to conceal it, than to let it appear to a man who wasunworthy of it, who deceived her, who perhaps made a sacrifice of her,and who had no view in being loved by her but to gratify his pride andvanity; in a word, she found, that all the calamities that could befallher, and all the extremities she could be reduced to, were less thanthat single one of having discovered to the Duke de Nemours that sheloved him, and of knowing that he loved another: all her comfort was tothink, that after the knowledge of this she had nothing more to fearfrom herself, and that she should be entirely eased of the inclinationshe had for the Duke.
She never thought of the orders the Queen-Dauphin had given her, tocome to her when she went to rest: she went to bed herself, andpretended to be ill; so that when Monsieur de Cleves came home from theKing, they told him she was asleep. But she was far from thattranquillity which inclines to sleep; all the night she did nothing buttorment herself, and read over and over the letter in her hand.
Madam de Cleves was not the only person whom this letter disturbed.The Viscount de Chartres, who had lost it and not the Duke de Nemours,was in the utmost inquietude about it. He had been that evening withthe Duke of Guise, who had given a great entertainment to the Duke ofFerrara his brother-in-law, and to all the young people of the Court:it happened that the discourse turned upon ingenious letters; and theViscount de Chartres said he had one about him the finest that ever waswrit: they urged him to show it, and on his excusing himself, the Dukede Nemours insisted he had no such letter, and that what he said wasonly out of vanity; the Viscount made him answer, that he urged hisdiscretion to the utmost, that nevertheless he would not show theletter; but he would read some parts of it, which would make it appearfew men received the like. Having said this, he would have taken outthe letter, but could not find it; he searched for it to no purpose.The company rallied him about it; but he seemed so disturbed, that theyforbore to speak further of it; he withdrew sooner than the others, andwent home with great impatience, to see if he had not left the letterthere. While he was looking for it, one of the Queen's pages came totell him, that the Viscountess d'Usez had thought it necessary to givehim speedy advice, that it was said at the Queen's Court, that he haddropped a letter of gallantry out of his pocket while he was playing attennis; that great part of what the letter contained had been related,that the Queen had expressed a great curiosity to see it, and had sentto one of her gentlemen for it, but that he answered, he had given itto Chatelart.
The page added many other particulars which heightened the Viscount'sconcern; he went out that minute to go to a gentleman who was anintimate friend of Chatelart's; and though it was a very unseasonablehour, made him get out of bed to go and fetch the letter, withoutletting him know who it was had sent for it, or who had lost it.Chatelart, who was prepossessed with an opinion that it belonged to theDuke of Nemours, and that the Duke was in love with the Queen-Dauphin,did not doubt but it was he who had sent to redemand it, and soanswered with a malicious sort of joy, that he had put the letter intothe Queen-Dauphin's hands. The gentleman brought this answer back tothe Viscount de Chartres, which increased the uneasiness he was underalready, and added new vexations to it: after having continued sometime in an irresolution what to do, he found that the Duke de Nemourswas the only person whose assistance could draw him out of thisintricate affair.
Accordingly he went to the Duke's house, and entered his room aboutbreak of day. What the Duke had discovered the day before with respectto the Princess of Cleves had given him such agreeable ideas, that heslept very sweetly; he was very much surprised to find himself waked bythe Viscount de Chartres, and asked him if he came to disturb his restso early, to be revenged of him for what he had said last night atsupper. The Viscount's looks soon convinced him, that he came upon aserious business; "I am come," said he, "to entrust you with the mostimportant affair of my life; I know very well, you are not obliged tome for the confidence I place in you, because I do it at a time when Istand in need of your assistance; but I know likewise, that I shouldhave lost your esteem, if I had acquainted you with all I am now goingto tell you, without having been forced to it by absolute necessity: Ihave dropped the letter I spoke of last night; it is of the greatestconsequence to me, that nobody should know it is addressed to me; ithas been seen by abundance of people, who were at the tennis courtyesterday when I dropped it; you was there too, and the favour I haveto ask you, is, to say it was you who lost it." "Sure you think,"replied the Duke de Nemours smiling, "that I have no mistress, bymaking such a proposal, and that I have no quarrels or inconveniencesto apprehend by leaving it to be believed that I receive such letters.""I beg you," said the Viscount, "to hear me seriously; if you have amistress, as I doubt not you have, though I do not know who she is, itwill be easy for you to justify yourself, and I'll put you into aninfallible way of doing it. As for you, though you should fail inj
ustifying yourself, it can cost you nothing but a short falling out;but for my part, this accident affects me in a very different manner, Ishall dishonour a person who has passionately loved me, and is one ofthe most deserving women in the world; on the other side, I shall drawupon myself an implacable hatred that will ruin my fortune, and perhapsproceed somewhat further." "I do not comprehend what you say," repliedthe Duke de Nemours, "but I begin to see that the reports we have hadof your interest in a great Princess are not wholly without ground.""They are not," replied the Viscount, "but I would to God they were:you would not see me in the perplexity I am in; but I must relate thewhole affair to you, to convince you how much I have to fear.
"Ever since I came to Court, the Queen has treated me with a great dealof favour and distinction, and I had grounds to believe that she wasvery kindly disposed towards me: there was nothing, however, particularin all this, and I never presumed to entertain any thoughts of her butwhat were full of respect; so far from it, that I was deeply in lovewith Madam de Themines; anyone that sees her may easily judge, 'tisvery possible for one to be greatly in love with her, when one isbeloved by her, and so I was. About two years ago, the Court being atFontainebleau, I was two or three times in conversation with the Queen,at hours when there were very few people in her apartment: it appearedto me, that my turn of wit was agreeable to her, and I observed shealways approved what I said. One day among others she fell into adiscourse concerning confidence. I said there was nobody in whom Ientirely confided, that I found people always repented of having doneso, and that I knew a great many things of which I had never spoke: theQueen told me, she esteemed me the more for it, that she had not foundin France anyone that could keep a secret, and that this was what hadembarrassed her more than anything else, because it had deprived her ofthe pleasure of having a confidant; that nothing was so necessary inlife as to have somebody one could open one's mind to with safety,especially for people of her rank. Afterwards she frequently resumedthe same discourse, and acquainted me with very particularcircumstances; at last I imagined she was desirous to learn my secrets,and to entrust me with her own; this thought engaged me strictly toher. I was so pleased with this distinction that I made my court toher with greater assiduity than usual. One evening the King and theladies of the Court rode out to take the air in the forest, but theQueen, being a little indisposed did not go; I stayed to wait upon her,and she walked down to the pond-side, and dismissed her gentlemenushers, that she might be more at liberty. After she had taken a fewturns she came up to me, and bid me follow her; 'I would speak withyou,' says she, 'and by what I shall say you will see I am yourfriend.' She stopped here, and looking earnestly at me; 'You are inlove,' continued she, 'and because perhaps you have made nobody yourconfidant, you think that your love is not known; but it is known, andeven by persons who are interested in it: you are observed, the placewhere you see your mistress is discovered, and there's a design tosurprise you; I don't know who she is, nor do I ask you to tell me, Iwould only secure you from the misfortunes into which you may fall.'See, I beseech you, what a snare the Queen laid for me, and howdifficult it was for me not to fall into it; she had a mind to know ifI was in love, and as she did not ask me who I was in love with, butlet me see her intention was only to serve me, I had no suspicion thatshe spoke either out of curiosity or by design.
"Nevertheless, contrary to all probability, I saw into the bottom ofthe matter; I was in love with Madam de Themines, but though she lovedme again, I was not happy enough to have private places to see her inwithout danger of being discovered there, and so I was satisfied shecould not be the person the Queen meant; I knew also, that I had anintrigue with another woman less handsome and less reserved than Madamde Themines, and that it was not impossible but the place where I sawher might be discovered; but as this was a business I little cared for,it was easy for me to guard against all sorts of danger by forbearingto see her; I resolved therefore to acknowledge nothing of it to theQueen, but to assure her on the contrary that I had a long time laidaside the desire of gaining women's affections, even where I might hopefor success, because I found them all in some measure unworthy ofengaging the heart of an honourable man, and that it must be somethingvery much above them which could touch me. 'You do not answer meingenuously,' replied the Queen; 'I am satisfied of the contrary; thefree manner in which I speak to you ought to oblige you to concealnothing from me; I would have you,' continued she, 'be of the number ofmy friends; but I would not, after having admitted you into that rank,be ignorant of your engagements; consider, whether you think myfriendship will be too dear at the price of making me your confidant; Igive you two days to think on it; but then, consider well of the answeryou shall make me, and remember that if ever I find hereafter you havedeceived me, I shall never forgive you as long as I live.'
"Having said this, the Queen left me without waiting for my answer; youmay imagine how full my thoughts were of what she had said to me; thetwo days she had given me to consider of it I did not think too long atime to come to a resolution I found she had a mind to know if I wasin love, and that her desire was I should not be so; I foresaw theconsequences of what I was going to do, my vanity was flattered withthe thought of having a particular interest with the Queen, and a Queenwhose person is still extremely amiable; on the other hand, I was inlove with Madam de Themines, and though I had committed a petty treasonagainst her by my engagement with the other woman I told you of, Icould not find in my heart to break with her; I foresaw also the dangerI should expose myself to, if I deceived the Queen, and how hard itwould be to do it; nevertheless I could not resolve to refuse whatfortune offered me, and was willing to run the hazard of anything myill conduct might draw upon me; I broke with her with whom I kept acorrespondence that might be discovered, and was in hopes of concealingthat I had with Madam de Themines.
"At the two days' end, as I entered the room where the Queen was withall the ladies about her, she said aloud to me, and with a grave airthat was surprising enough, 'Have you thought of the business I chargedyou with, and do you know the truth of it?' 'Yes, Madam,' answered I,'and 'tis as I told your Majesty.' 'Come in the evening, when I amwriting,' replied she, 'and you shall have further orders.' I made arespectful bow without answering anything, and did not fail to attendat the hour she had appointed me. I found her in the gallery, with hersecretary and one of her women. As soon as she saw me she came to me,and took me to the other end of the gallery; 'Well,' says she, 'afterhaving considered thoroughly of this matter, have you nothing to say tome, and as to my manner of treating you, does not it deserve that youshould deal sincerely with me?' 'It is, Madam,' answered I, 'because Ideal sincerely, that I have nothing more to say, and I swear to yourMajesty with all the respect I owe you, that I have no engagement withany woman of the Court.' 'I will believe it,' replied the Queen,'because I wish it; and I wish it, because I desire to have youentirely mine, and because it would be impossible for me to besatisfied with your friendship, if you were in love; one cannot confidein those who are; one cannot be secure of their secrecy; they are toomuch divided, and their mistresses have always the first place in theirthoughts, which does not suit at all with the manner in which I wouldhave you live with me: remember then, it is upon your giving me yourword that you have no engagement, that I choose you for my confidant;remember, I insist on having you entirely to myself, and that you shallhave no friend of either sex but such as I shall approve, and that youabandon every care but that of pleasing me; I'll not desire you toneglect any opportunity for advancing your fortune; I'll conduct yourinterests with more application than you can yourself, and whatever Ido for you, I shall think myself more than recompensed, if you answermy expectations; I make choice of you, to open my heart's griefs toyou, and to have your assistance in softening them; you may imaginethey are not small; I bear in appearance without much concern theKing's engagement with the Duchess of Valentinois, but it isinsupportable to me; she governs the King, she imposes upon him, sheslights me, all my people are at h
er beck. The Queen, mydaughter-in-law, proud of her beauty, and the authority of her uncles,pays me no respect. The Constable Montmorency is master of the King andkingdom; he hates me, and has given proofs of his hatred, which I shallnever forget. The Mareschal de St. Andre is a bold young favourite,who uses me no better than the others. The detail of my misfortuneswould move your pity; hitherto I have not dared to confide in anybody,I confide in you, take care that I never repent it, and be my onlyconsolation.' The Queen blushed, when she had ended this discourse,and I was so truly touched with the goodness she had expressed to me,that I was going to throw myself at her feet: from that day she hasplaced an entire confidence in me, she has done nothing withoutadvising with me, and the intimacy and union between us still subsists.
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