The Vicomte de Bragelonne

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  CHAILLOT.

  Although they had not been summoned, Manicamp and Malicorne had followedthe king and D'Artagnan. They were both exceedingly intelligent men,except that Malicorne was generally too precipitate, owing to hisambition, while Manicamp was frequently too tardy, owing to hisidleness. On this occasion, however, they arrived at precisely theproper moment. Five horses were waiting in readiness. Two were seizedupon by the king and D'Artagnan, two others by Manicamp and Malicorne,while a groom belonging to the stables mounted the fifth. The wholecavalcade set off at a gallop. D'Artagnan had been very careful in hisselection of the horses; they were the very horses for distressedlovers--horses which did not simply run, but flew. Within ten minutesafter their departure, the cavalcade, amid a cloud of dust, arrived atChaillot. The king literally threw himself off his horse, but,notwithstanding the rapidity with which he accomplished this maneuver,he found D'Artagnan already holding his stirrup. With a sign ofacknowledgment to the musketeer, he threw the bridle to the groom, thendarted into the vestibule, violently pushed open the door, and enteredthe reception-room. Manicamp, Malicorne, and the groom, remainedoutside, D'Artagnan alone following him. When he entered thereception-room, the first object which met his gaze was Louise herself,not simply on her knees, but lying at the foot of a large stonecrucifix. The young girl was stretched upon the damp flag-stones,scarcely visible in the gloom of the apartment, which was lighted onlyby means of a narrow window, protected by bars, and completely shaded bycreeping plants. She was alone, inanimate, cold as the stone to whichshe was clinging.

  When the king saw her in this state, he thought she was dead, anduttered a loud cry, which made D'Artagnan hurry into the room. The kinghad already passed one of his arms round her body, and D'Artagnanassisted him in raising the poor girl, whom the torpor of death seemedalready to have taken possession of. D'Artagnan seized hold of thealarm-bell, and rang with all his might. The Carmelite sistersimmediately hastened at the summons, and uttered loud exclamations ofalarm and indignation at the sight of the two men holding a woman intheir arms. The superior also hurried to the scene of action; but, farmore a creature of the world than any of the female members of thecourt, notwithstanding her austerity of manners, she recognized the kingat the first glance, by the respect which those present exhibited forhim, as well as by the imperious and authoritative way in which he hadthrown the whole establishment into confusion. As soon as she saw theking, she retired to her own apartments, in order to avoid compromisingher dignity. But, by one of the nuns, she sent various cordials--Hungarywater, etc., etc.--and ordered that all the doors should be immediatelyclosed, a command which was just in time, for the king's distress wasfast becoming of a most clamorous and despairing character. He hadalmost decided to send for his own physician, when La Valliere exhibitedsigns of returning animation. The first object which met her gaze, asshe opened her eyes, was the king at her feet; in all probability shedid not recognize him, for she uttered a deep sigh full of anguish anddistress. Louis fixed his eyes devouringly upon her face; and when, inthe course of a few moments, she recognized the king, she endeavored totear herself from his embrace.

  "Oh, heavens!" she murmured, "is not the sacrifice yet made?"

  "No, no," exclaimed the king, "and it shall not be made, I swear."

  Notwithstanding her weakness and utter despair, she rose from theground, saying, "It must be made, however; it must be; so do not stay mein my purpose!"

  "I leave you to sacrifice yourself! I! never, never!" exclaimed theking.

  "Well," murmured D'Artagnan, "I may as well go now. As soon as theybegin to speak, we may as well save their having any listeners." And hequitted the room, leaving the two lovers alone.

  "Sire," continued La Valliere, "not another word, I implore you. Do notdestroy the only future I can hope for--my salvation; do not destroy theglory and brightness of your own future for a mere caprice."

  "A caprice!" cried the king.

  "Oh! sire, it is now only that I can clearly see into your heart."

  "You, Louise, what mean you?"

  "An inexplicable impulse, foolish and unreasonable in its nature, maymomentarily appear to offer a sufficient excuse for your conduct; butthere are duties imposed upon you which are incompatible with yourregard for a poor girl such as I am. So forget me."

  "I forget you!"

  "You have already done so."

  "Rather would I die."

  "You cannot love one whose peace of mind you hold so lightly, and whomyou so cruelly abandoned last night to the bitterness of death."

  "What can you mean? Explain yourself. Louise."

  "What did you ask me yesterday morning? To love you. What did youpromise me in return? Never to let midnight pass without offering me anopportunity of reconciliation whenever your anger might be arousedagainst me."

  "Oh! forgive me, Louise, forgive me! I was almost mad from jealousy."

  "Jealousy is an unworthy thought, sire. You may become jealous again,and will end by killing me. Be merciful, then, and leave me now to die."

  "Another word, mademoiselle, in that strain, and you will see me expireat your feet."

  "No, no, sire, I am better acquainted with my own demerits; and believeme, that to sacrifice yourself for one whom all despise would beneedless."

  "Give me the names of those you have cause to complain of."

  "I have no complaints, sire, to prefer against any one--no one butmyself to accuse. Farewell, sire; you are compromising yourself inspeaking to me in such a manner."

  "Oh! be careful, Louise, in what you say; for you are reducing me to thevery depths of despair."

  "Oh! sire, sire, leave me to the protection of Heaven, I implore you."

  "No, no; Heaven itself shall not tear you from me."

  "Save me, then," cried the poor girl, "from those determined andpitiless enemies who are thirsting to destroy my very life and honortoo. If you have courage enough to love me, show at least that you havepower enough to defend me. But no: she whom you say you love, othersinsult and mock, and drive shamelessly away." And the gentle-heartedgirl, forced by her own bitter distress to accuse others, wrung herhands in an uncontrollable agony of tears.

  "You have been driven away!" exclaimed the king. "This is the secondtime I have heard that said."

  "I have been driven away with shame and ignominy, sire. You see, then,that I have no other protector but Heaven, no consolation but prayer,and this cloister is my only refuge."

  "My palace, my whole court, shall be yours. Oh! fear nothing furthernow, Louise: those, be they men or women, who yesterday drove you away,shall to-morrow tremble before you--to-morrow, do I say? Nay, this veryday have I already shown my displeasure--have already threatened. It isin my power, even now, to hurl the thunderbolt which I have hithertowithheld. Louise, Louise, you shall be cruelly revenged; tears of bloodshall repay you for the tears you have shed. Give me only the names ofyour enemies."

  "Never, never."

  "How can I show my anger, then?"

  "Sire, those upon whom your anger would have to fall would force you todraw back your hand upraised to punish."

  "Oh! you do not know me," cried the king, exasperated. "Rather than drawback, I would sacrifice my kingdom, and would curse my family. Yes, Iwould strike until this arm had utterly annihilated all those who hadventured to make themselves the enemies of the gentlest and best ofcreatures." And, as he said these words, Louis struck his fist violentlyagainst the oaken wainscoting with a force which alarmed La Valliere:for his anger, owing to his unbounded power, had something imposing andthreatening in it, and like the tempest, might be mortal in its effects.She, who thought that her own sufferings could not be surpassed, wasoverwhelmed by a suffering which revealed itself by menace and byviolence.

  "Sire," she said, "for the last time I implore you to leave me; alreadydo I feel strengthened by the calm seclusion of this asylum: and theprotection of Heaven has reassured me: for all the petty humanmeannesses of this wor
ld are forgotten beneath the Divine protection.Once more, then, sire, and for the last time, I again implore you toleave me."

  "Confess, rather," cried Louis, "that you have never loved me; admitthat my humility and my repentance are flattering to your pride: butthat my distress affects you not; that the king of this wide realm is nolonger regarded as a lover whose tenderness of devotion is capable ofworking out your happiness: but that he is a despot whose caprice hasutterly destroyed in your heart the very last fiber of human feeling. Donot say you are seeking Heaven, say rather that you are fleeing theking."

  Louise's heart was wrung within her, as she listened to his passionateutterance, which made the fever of passion course through every vein inher body. "But did you not hear me say that I, have been driven away,scorned, despised?"

  "I will make you the most respected, the most adored, and the mostenvied of my whole court."

  "Prove to me that you have not ceased to love me."

  "In what way?"

  "By leaving me."

  "I will prove it to you by never leaving you again."

  "But do you imagine, sire, that I shall allow that: do you imagine thatI will let you come to an open rupture with every member of your family:do you imagine that, for my sake, you could abandon mother, wife, andsister?"

  "Ah? you have named them, then, at last: it is they, then, who havewrought this grievous injury? By the heaven above us, then, upon themshall my anger fall."

  "That is the reason why the future terrifies me, why I refuseeverything, why I do not wish you to revenge me. Tears enough havealready been shed, sufficient sorrow and affliction have already beenoccasioned. I, at least, will never be the cause of sorrow, oraffliction, or distress, to whomsoever it may be, for I have mourned andsuffered, and wept too much myself."

  "And do you count my sufferings, my distress, and my tears, as nothing?"

  "In Heaven's name, sire, do not speak to me in that manner. I need allmy courage to enable me to accomplish the sacrifice."

  "Louise, Louise, I implore you! whatever you desire, whatever youcommand, whether vengeance or forgiveness, your slightest wish shall beobeyed, but do not abandon me."

  "Alas! sire, we must part."

  "You do not love me, then!"

  "Heaven knows I do!"

  "It is false, Louise; it is false."

  "Oh! sire, if I did not love you I should let you do what you please: Ishould let you revenge me, in return for the insult which has beeninflicted on me; I should accept the sweet triumph to my pride which youpropose: and yet, you cannot deny, that I reject even the sweetcompensation which your affection affords, that affection, which for meis life itself, for I wished to die when I thought that you loved me nolonger."

  "Yes, yes: I now know, I now perceive it; you are the holiest, the best,the purest of women. There is no one so worthy as yourself, not alone ofmy own respect and devotion, but also of the respect and devotion of allwho surround me: and therefore shall no one be loved like yourself: noone shall ever possess the influence over me that you wield. You wish meto be calm, to forgive: be it so, you shall find me perfectly unmoved.You wish to reign by gentleness and clemency, I will be clement andgentle. Dictate to me the conduct you wish me to adopt, and I will obeyblindly."

  "In Heaven's name, no, sire; what am I, a poor girl, to dictate to sogreat a monarch as yourself?"

  "You are my life, the very spirit and principle of my being. Is it notthe spirit that rules the body?"

  "You love me, then, sire?"

  "On my knees, yes; with my hands upraised to you, yes; with all thestrength and power of my being, yes; I love you so deeply that I wouldhappily lay down my life for you, at your merest wish."

  "Oh! sire, now that I know you love me, I have nothing to wish for inthe whole world. Give me your hand, sire; and then farewell! I haveenjoyed in this life all the happiness which I was destined to meetwith."

  "Oh! no, no! your happiness is not a happiness of yesterday, it is ofto-day, of to-morrow, ever-enduring. The future is yours, everythingwhich is mine is yours too. Away with these ideas of separation, awaywith these gloomy, despairing thoughts. You will live for me, as I willlive for you, Louise." And he threw himself at her feet, embracing herknees with the wildest transports of joy and gratitude.

  "Oh! sire, sire! all that is but a wild dream."

  "Why a wild dream?"

  "Because I cannot return to the court. Exiled, how can I see you again?Would it not be far better to bury myself in a cloister for the rest ofmy life, with the rich consolation that your affection gives me, withthe latest pulses of your heart beating for me, and your latestconfession of attachment still ringing in my ears?"

  "Exiled, you!" exclaimed Louis XIV., "and who dares to exile, let meask, when I recall?"

  "Oh! sire, something which is greater than and superior to kingseven--the world and public opinion. Reflect for a moment; you cannotlove a woman who has been ignominiously driven away--love one, whom yourmother has stained with suspicion; one, whom your sister has threatenedwith disgrace; such a woman, indeed, would be unworthy of you."

  "Unworthy! one who belongs to me?"

  "Yes, sire, precisely on that account; from the very moment she belongsto you, the character of your mistress renders her unworthy."

  "You are right, Louise, every shade of delicacy of feeling is yours.Very well, you shall not be exiled."

  "Ah! from the tone in which you speak, you have not heard Madame, thatis very clear."

  "I will appeal from her to my mother."

  "Again, sire, you have not seen your mother."

  "She, also! poor Louise! every one's hand, then, is against you."

  "Yes, yes, poor Louise, who was already bending beneath the fury of thestorm, when you arrived and crushed her beneath the weight of yourdispleasure."

  "Oh! forgive me."

  "You will not, I know, be able to make either of them yield; believe me,the evil cannot be repaired, for I will not allow you to use violence,or to exercise your authority."

  "Very well, Louise, to prove to you how fondly I love you, I will do onething, I will see Madame; I will make her revoke her sentence, I willcompel her to do so."

  "Compel? Oh! no, no."

  "True; you are right. I will bend her."

  Louise shook her head.

  "I will entreat her, if it be necessary," said Louis. "Will you believein my affection after that?"

  Louise drew herself up. "Oh, never, never, shall you humiliate yourselfon my account; sooner, a thousand times, would I die."

  Louis reflected, his features assumed a dark expression. "I will love asmuch as you have loved; I will suffer as keenly as you have suffered;this shall be my expiation in your eyes. Come, mademoiselle, put asidethese paltry considerations; let us show ourselves as great as oursufferings, as strong as our affection for each other." And, as he saidthis, he took her in his arms, and encircled her waist with both hishands, saying, "My own love! my own dearest and best-beloved, followme."

  She made a final effort, in which she concentrated--no longer all herfirmness of will, for that had long since been overcome, but all herphysical strength.

  "No!" she replied, weakly, "no! no! I should die from shame."

  "No! you shall return like a queen. No one knows of your havingleft--except, indeed, D'Artagnan."

  "He has betrayed me, then?"

  "In what way?"

  "He promised me faithfully--"

  "I promised not to say anything to the king," said D'Artagnan, puttingin his head through the half-opened door, "and I kept my word, I wasspeaking to M. de Saint-Aignan, and it was not my fault, if the kingoverheard me; was it, sire?"

  "It is quite true," said the king, "forgive him."

  La Valliere smiled, and held out her small white hand to the musketeer.

  "Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the king, "be good enough to see if you canfind a carriage for Mademoiselle de la Valliere."

  "Sire," replied the captain, "the carriage is waiting at t
he gate."

  "You are the most perfect model of thoughtfulness," exclaimed the king.

  "You have taken a long time to find it out," muttered D'Artagnan,notwithstanding he was flattered by the praise bestowed upon him.

  La Valliere was overcome: after a little further hesitation, she allowedherself to be led away, half fainting, by her royal lover. But, as shewas on the point of leaving the room, she tore herself from the king'sgrasp, and returned to the stone crucifix, which she kissed, saying,"Oh, Heaven! it was thou who drewest me hither! thou, who hast rejectedme; but thy grace is infinite. Whenever I shall again return, forgetthat I have ever separated myself from thee, for, when I return, it willbe--never to leave thee again."

  The king could not restrain his emotion, and D'Artagnan, even, wasovercome. Louis bore the young girl away, lifted her into the carriage,and directed D'Artagnan to seat himself beside her, while he, mountinghis horse, spurred violently toward the Palais-Royal, where, immediatelyon his arrival, he sent to request an audience of Madame.