CHAPTER XXIX.
THE JOURNEY.
The next day being agreed upon for the departure, the king, at eleveno'clock precisely, descended the grand staircase with the two queens andMadame, in order to enter his carriage drawn by six horses which werepawing the ground in impatience at the foot of the staircase. The wholecourt awaited the royal appearance in the _Fer-a-cheval_ crescent, intheir traveling costumes; the large number of saddled horses andcarriages of ladies and gentlemen of the court, surrounded by theirattendants, servants, and pages, formed a spectacle whose brilliancycould scarcely be equaled. The king entered his carriage with the twoqueens; Madame was in the same with Monsieur. The maids of honorfollowed the example, and took their seats, two by two, in the carriagesdestined for them. The weather was exceedingly warm, a light breeze,which, early in the morning, all had thought would have been justsufficient to cool the air, soon became fiercely heated by the rays ofthe sun, although it was hidden behind the clouds, and filtered throughthe heated vapor which rose from the ground like a scorching wind,bearing particles of fine dust against the faces of the hasty travelers.Madame was the first to complain of the heat. Monsieur's only reply wasto throw himself back in the carriage, as if he were about to faint, andto inundate himself with scents and perfumes, uttering the deepest sighsall the while; whereupon Madame said to him, with her most amiableexpression: "Really, monsieur, I fancied that you would have been politeenough, on account of the terrible heat, to have left me my carriage tomyself, and to have performed the journey yourself on horseback."
"Ride on horseback!" cried the prince, with an accent of dismay whichshowed how little idea he had of adopting this strange project: "youcannot suppose such a thing, madame; my skin would peel off if I were toexpose myself to such a burning air as this."
Madame began to laugh.
"You can take my parasol," she said.
"But the trouble of holding it!" replied Monsieur, with the greatestcoolness; "besides, I have no horse."
"How, no horse?" replied the princess, who, if she did not obtain thesolitude she required, at least obtained the amusement of teasing. "Nohorse! You are mistaken, monsieur; for I see your favorite bay outyonder."
"My bay horse!" exclaimed the prince, attempting to lean forward to lookout of the door; but the movement he was obliged to make cost him somuch trouble that he soon hastened to resume his immobility.
"Yes," said Madame: "your horse led by M. de Malicorne."
"Poor beast," replied the prince; "how warm it will soon be!"
And with these words he closed his eyes, like a man on the point ofdeath. Madame, on her side, reclined indolently in the other corner ofthe carriage, and closed her eyes also, not however to sleep, but tothink more at her ease. In the meantime, the king, seated in the frontseat of the carriage, the back of which he had yielded up to the twoqueens, was a prey to that restless feverish contrariety experienced byanxious lovers, who, without being able to quench their ardent thirst,are ceaselessly desirous of seeing the loved object, and then go awaypartially satisfied, without perceiving that they have acquired a moreburning thirst than ever. The king, whose carriage headed theprocession, could not from the place he occupied perceive the carriagesof the ladies and maids of honor, which followed in a line behind it.Besides, he was obliged to answer the eternal questions of the youngqueen, who, happy to have with her "_her dear husband_," as she calledhim in utter forgetfulness of royal etiquette, invested him with all heraffection, stifled him with her attentions, afraid that some one mightcome to take him from her, or that he himself might suddenly take afancy to leave her society. Anne of Austria, whom nothing at thatmoment occupied except the occasional sharp throbbings in her bosom,looked pleased and delighted, and although she perfectly conceived theking's impatience, tantalizingly prolonged his sufferings byunexpectedly resuming the conversation at the very moment the king,absorbed in his own reflections, began to muse over his secretattachment. Everything seemed to combine--not alone the little teasingattentions of the queen, but also the queen-mother's tantalizinginterruptions--to make the king's position almost insupportable; for heknew not how to control the restless longings of his heart. At first, hecomplained of the heat, a complaint which was merely preliminary toother complaints, but with sufficient tact to prevent Maria Theresaguessing his real object. Understanding the king's remark literally, shebegan to fan him with her ostrich plumes. But the heat passed away, andthe king then complained of cramps and stiffness in his legs, and as thecarriages at that moment stopped to change horses, the queen said:"Shall I get out with you? I too feel tired of sitting. We can walk on alittle distance, the carriage will overtake us, and we can resume ourplaces again presently."
The king frowned: it is a hard trial a jealous woman makes her husbandsubmit to whose fidelity she suspects, when, although herself a prey tojealousy, she watches herself so narrowly that she avoids giving anypretext for an angry feeling. The king, therefore, in the present case,could not refuse; he accepted the offer, alighted from the carriage,gave his arm to the queen, and walked up and down with her while thehorses were being changed. As he walked along, he cast an envious glanceupon the courtiers, who were fortunate enough to be performing thejourney on horseback. The queen soon found out that the promenade shehad suggested afforded the king as little pleasure as he had experiencedfrom riding in the carriage. She accordingly expressed a wish to returnto her carriage, and the king conducted her to the door, but did not getin with her. He stepped back a few paces, and looked among the file ofcarriages for the purpose of recognizing the one in which he took sostrong an interest. At the door of the sixth carriage he saw LaValliere's fair countenance. As the king thus stood motionless, wrappedin thought, without perceiving that everything was ready, and that healone was causing the delay, he heard a voice close beside him,addressing him in the most respectful manner. It was M. Malicorne, in acomplete costume of an equerry, holding over his left arm the bridles ofa couple of horses.
"Your majesty asked for a horse, I believe," he said.
"A horse? Have you one of my horses here?" inquired the king, whoendeavored to remember the person who addressed him, and whose face wasnot as yet very familiar to him.
"Sire," replied Malicorne, "at all events I have a horse which is atyour majesty's service."
And Malicorne pointed at Monsieur's bay horse, which Madame hadobserved. It was a beautiful creature and most royally caparisoned.
"This is not one of my horses, monsieur," said the king.
"Sire, it is a horse out of his royal highness's stable; but his royalhighness does not ride when the weather is as hot as it is now."
The king did not reply, but hastily approached the horse, which stoodpawing the ground with his foot. Malicorne hastened to hold the stirrupfor him but the king was already in the saddle. Restored to good humorby this lucky accident, the king hastened toward the queen's carriage,where he was anxiously expected: and notwithstanding Maria-Theresa'sthoughtful and preoccupied air, he said: "I have been fortunate enoughto find this horse, and I intend to avail myself of it. I felt stifledin the carriage. Adieu, ladies."
Then, bending most gracefully over the arched neck of his beautifulsteed, he disappeared in a second. Anne of Austria leaned forward, inorder to look after him as he rode away: he did not go very far, forwhen he reached the sixth carriage, he reined in his horse suddenly andtook off his hat. He saluted La Valliere, who uttered a cry of surpriseas she saw him, blushing at the same time with pleasure. Montalais, whooccupied the other seat in the carriage, made the king a most respectfulbow. And, then, with all the tact of a woman, she pretended to beexceedingly interested in the landscape, and withdrew herself into theleft-hand corner. The conversation between the king and La Vallierebegan, as all lovers' conversations generally do, namely, by eloquentlooks and by a few words utterly void of common sense. The kingexplained how warm he had felt in his carriage, so much so indeed thathe could almost regard the horse he then rode as a blessing thrown inhis way. "And,
" he added, "my benefactor is an exceedingly intelligentman, for he seemed to guess my thoughts intuitively. I have now only onewish, that of learning the name of the gentleman who so cleverlyassisted his king out of his dilemma, and extricated him from his cruelposition."
Montalais, during this colloquy, the first words of which had awakenedher attention, had slightly altered her position, and had contrived soas to meet the king's look as he finished his remark. It followed verynaturally that the king looked inquiringly as much at her as at LaValliere; she had every reason to suppose that it was she who wasappealed to, and consequently might be permitted to answer. Shetherefore said: "Sire, the horse which your majesty is riding belongs toMonsieur, and was being led by one of his royal highness's gentlemen."
"And what is that gentleman's name, may I ask, mademoiselle?"
"M. de Malicorne, sire."
The name produced its usual effect, for the king repeated it smilingly.
"Yes, sire," replied Aure. "Stay, it is that gentleman who is gallopingon my left hand;" and she pointed out Malicorne, who, with a verysanctified expression, was galloping on the left side of the carriage,knowing perfectly well that they were talking of him at that verymoment, but sitting in his saddle as if were deaf and dumb.
"Yes," said the king, "that is the gentleman; I remember his face, andwill not forget his name;" and the king looked tenderly at La Valliere.
Aure had now nothing further to do; she had let Malicorne's name fall;the soil was good; all that was now left to be done was to let the nametake root, and the event would bear its fruit in due time. Sheconsequently threw herself back in her corner, feeling perfectlyjustified in making as many agreeable signs of recognition as she likedto Malicorne, since the latter had had the happiness of pleasing theking. As it will very readily be believed, Montalais was not mistaken;and Malicorne, with his quick ear and his sly look, seemed to interprether remark as "All goes on well," the whole being accompanied by apantomimic action which he fancied conveyed something resembling a kiss.
"Alas! mademoiselle," said the king, after a moment's pause, "theliberty and freedom of the country is soon about to cease; yourattendance upon Madame will be more strictly enforced, and we shall seeeach other no more."
"Your majesty is too much attached to Madame," replied Louise, "not tocome and see her very frequently; and whenever your majesty may passacross the apartments--"
"Ah!" said the king, in a tender voice, which was gradually lowered inits tone, "to perceive is not to see, and yet it seems that it would bequite sufficient for you."
Louise did not answer a syllable; a sigh filled her heart almost tobursting, but she stifled it.
"You exercise a great control over yourself," said the king to Louise,who smiled upon him with a melancholy expression. "Exert the strengthyou have in loving fondly," he continued, "and I will bless Heaven forhaving bestowed it on you."
La Valliere still remained silent, but raised her eyes, brimful ofaffection, toward the king. Louis, as if he had been overcome by thisburning glance, passed his hand across his forehead, and pressing thesides of his horse with his knees, made him bound several paces forward.La Valliere, leaning back in her carriage, with her eyes half closed,gazed fixedly upon the king, whose plumes were floating in the air; shecould not but admire his graceful carriage, his delicate and nervouslimbs, which pressed his horse's side, and the regular outline of hisfeatures, which his beautiful curling hair set off to great advantage,revealing occasionally his small and well-formed ear. In fact the poorgirl was in love, and she reveled in her innocent affection. In a fewmoments the king was again by her side.
"Do you not perceive," he said, "how terribly your silence affects me?Oh! mademoiselle, how pitilessly immovable you would become if you wereever to resolve to break off all acquaintance with any one; and then tooI think you changeable; in fact--in fact, I dread this deep affectionwhich fills my whole being."
"Oh! sire, you are mistaken," said La Valliere; "if ever I love, it willbe for my whole life."
"If you love, you say," exclaimed the king; "you do not love now, then."She hid her face in her hands.
"You see," said the king, "that I am right in accusing you; you mustadmit that you are changeable, capricious, a coquette, perhaps."
"Oh, no! sire, be perfectly satisfied on that. No, I say again; no, no!"
"Promise me, then, that for me you will always be the same."
"Oh! always, sire."
"That you will never show any of that severity which would break myheart, none of that fickleness of manner which would be worse than deathto me."
"Oh! no, no."
"Very well, then! but listen. I like promises, I like to place under theguarantee of an oath, under the protection of Heaven in fact, everythingwhich interests my heart and my affections. Promise me, or rather swearto me, that if in the life we are about to commence, a life which willbe full of sacrifice, mystery, anxiety, disappointment andmisunderstanding; swear to me that if we should be deceiving, or shouldmisunderstand each other, or should be judging each other unjustly, forthat indeed would be criminal in love such as ours; swear to me,Louise--"
She trembled with agitation to the very depths of her heart; it was thefirst time she had heard her name pronounced in that manner by her royallover. As for the king, taking off his glove, and placing his unglovedhand within the carriage, he continued: "Swear that never in all ourquarrels will we allow one night even to pass by, if anymisunderstanding should arise between us, without a visit, or at least amessage, from either, in order to convey consolation and repose to theother."
La Valliere took her lover's burning hand between her own icy palms, andpressed it softly, until a movement of the horse, frightened by theproximity of the wheels, obliged her to abandon her happiness. She hadsworn as he wished her.
"Return, sire," she said, "return to the queen: I foresee a storm risingyonder which threatens my peace of mind."
Louis obeyed, saluted Mademoiselle de Montalais, and set off at a gallopto rejoin the queen's carriage. As he passed Monsieur's carriage, heobserved that he was fast asleep, although Madame, on her part, was wideawake. As the king passed her, she said, "What a beautiful horse, sire!is it not Monsieur's bay horse?" The young queen merely remarked, "Areyou better now, sire?"