The sun had scarcely shed its first beams on the majestic trees of thepark and the lofty turrets of the castle, when the young king, who hadbeen awake more than two hours, possessed by the sleeplessness of love,opened his shutters himself, and cast an inquiring look into the courtsof the sleeping palace. He saw that it was the hour agreed upon: thegreat court clock pointed to a quarter past four. He did not disturb hisvalet de chambre, who was sleeping soundly at some distance; he dressedhimself, and the valet, in a great fright sprang up, thinking he hadbeen deficient in his duty; but the king sent him back again, commandinghim to preserve the most absolute silence. He then descended the littlestaircase, went out at a lateral door, and perceived at the end ofthe wall a mounted horseman holding another horse by the bridle. Thishorseman could not be recognized in his cloak and slouched hat. Asto the horse, saddled like that of a rich citizen, it offered nothingremarkable to the most experienced eye. Louis took the bridle: theofficer held the stirrup without dismounting, and asked his majesty'sorders in a low voice.
"Follow me," replied the king.
The officer put his horse to the trot, behind that of his master, andthey descended the hill towards the bridge. When they reached the otherside of the Loire,--
"Monsieur," said the king, "you will please to ride on till you see acarriage coming; then return and inform me. I will wait here."
"Will your majesty deign to give me some description of the carriage Iam charged to discover?"
"A carriage in which you will see two ladies, and probably theirattendants likewise."
"Sire, I should not wish to make a mistake; is there no other sign bywhich I may know this carriage?"
"It will bear, in all probability, the arms of monsieur le cardinal."
"That is sufficient, sire," replied the officer, fully instructed in theobject of his search. He put his horse to the trot, and rode sharply onin the direction pointed out by the king. But he had scarcely gone fivehundred paces when he saw four mules and then a carriage, loom up frombehind a little hill. Behind this carriage came another. It requiredonly one glance to assure him that these were the equipages he was insearch of; he therefore turned his bridle, and rode back to the king.
"Sire," said he, "here are the carriages. The first, as you said,contains two ladies with their femmes de chambre; the second containsthe footmen, provisions, and necessaries."
"That is well," replied the king in an agitated voice. "Please to goand tell those ladies that a cavalier of the court wishes to pay hisrespects to them alone."
The officer set off at a gallop. "Mordioux!" said he, as he rode on,"here is a new and an honorable employment, I hope! I complained ofbeing nobody. I am the king's confidant: that is enough to make amusketeer burst with pride."
He approached the carriage, and delivered his message gallantly andintelligently. There were two ladies in the carriage: one of greatbeauty, although rather thin; the other less favored by nature, butlively, graceful, and uniting in the delicate lines of her brow all thesigns of a strong will. Her eyes, animated and piercing in particular,spoke more eloquently than all the amorous phrases in fashion in thosedays of gallantry. It was to her D'Artagnan addressed himself, withoutfear of being mistaken, although the other was, as we have said, themore handsome of the two.
"Madame," said he, "I am the lieutenant of the musketeers, and thereis on the road a horseman who awaits you, and is desirous of paying hisrespects to you."
At these words, the effect of which he watched closely, the lady withthe black eyes uttered a cry of joy, leant out of the carriage window,and seeing the cavalier approaching, held out her arms, exclaiming:
"Ah, my dear sire!" and the tears gushed from her eyes.
The coachman stopped his team; the women rose in confusion from the backof the carriage, and the second lady made a slight curtsey, terminatedby the most ironical smile that jealousy ever imparted to the lips ofwoman.
"Marie? dear Marie?" cried the king, taking the hand of the black-eyedlady in both his. And opening the heavy door himself, he drew her outof the carriage with so much ardor, that she was in his arms beforeshe touched the ground. The lieutenant, posted on the other side of thecarriage, saw and heard all without being observed.
The king offered his arm to Mademoiselle de Mancini, and made a sign tothe coachman and lackeys to proceed. It was nearly six o'clock; the roadwas fresh and pleasant; tall trees with their foliage still inclosed inthe golden down of their buds let the dew of morning filter from theirtrembling branches like liquid diamonds; the grass was bursting at thefoot of the hedges; the swallows, having returned since only a few days,described their graceful curves between the heavens and the water; abreeze, laden with the perfumes of the blossoming woods, sighed alongthe road, and wrinkled the surface of the waters of the river; allthese beauties of the day, all these perfumes of the plants, all theseaspirations of the earth towards heaven, intoxicated the two lovers,walking side by side, leaning upon each other, eyes fixed upon eyes,hand clasping hand, and who, lingering as by a common desire, did notdare to speak they had so much to say.
The officer saw that the king's horse, in wandering this way and that,annoyed Mademoiselle de Mancini. He took advantage of the pretext ofsecuring the horse to draw near them, and dismounting, walked betweenthe two horses he led; he did not lose a single word or gesture of thelovers. It was Mademoiselle de Mancini who at length began.
"Ah, my dear sire!" said she, "you do not abandon me, then?"
"No, Marie," replied the king; "you see I do not."
"I had so often been told, though, that as soon as we should beseparated you would no longer think of me."
"Dear Marie, is it then to-day only that you have discovered we aresurrounded by people interested in deceiving us?"
"But, then, sire, this journey, this alliance with Spain? They are goingto marry you off!"
Louis hung his head. At the same time the officer could see the eyesof Marie de Mancini shine in the sun with the brilliancy of a daggerstarting from its sheath. "And you have done nothing in favor of ourlove?" asked the girl, after a silence of a moment.
"Ah! mademoiselle, how could you believe that? I threw myself at thefeet of my mother; I begged her, I implored her; I told her all my hopesof happiness were in you, I even threatened----"
"Well?" asked Marie, eagerly.
"Well? the queen-mother wrote to the court of Rome, and received asanswer, that a marriage between us would have no validity, and would bedissolved by the holy father. At length, finding there was no hope forus, I requested to have my marriage with the infanta at least delayed."
"And yet that does not prevent your being on the road to meet her?"
"How can I help it? To my prayers, to my supplications, to my tears, Ireceived no answer but reasons of state."
"Well, well?"
"Well, what is to be done, mademoiselle, when so many wills are leaguedagainst me?"
It was now Marie's turn to hang her head. "Then I must bid you adieu forever," said she. "You know that I am being exiled; you know that I amgoing to be buried alive; you know still more that they want to marry meoff, too."
Louis became very pale, and placed his hand upon his heart.
"If I had thought that my life only had, been at stake, I have been sopersecuted that I might have yielded; but I thought yours was concerned,my dear sire, and I stood out for the sake of preserving your happiness."
"Oh, yes! my happiness, my treasure!" murmured the king, more gallantlythan passionately, perhaps.
"The cardinal might have yielded," said Marie, "if you had addressedyourself to him, if you had pressed him. For the cardinal to call theking of France his nephew! do you not perceive, sire? He would have madewar even for that honor; the cardinal, assured of governing alone, underthe double pretext of having brought up the king and given his nieceto him in marriage--the cardinal would have fought all antagonists,overcome all obstacles. Oh, sire! I can answer for that. I am a woman,and I see clearly into everything where lov
e is concerned."
These words produced a strange effect upon the king. Instead ofheightening his passion, they cooled it. He stopped, and said hastily,--
"What is to be said, mademoiselle? Everything has failed."
"Except your will, I trust, my dear sire?"
"Alas!" said the king, coloring, "have I a will?"
"Oh!" said Mademoiselle de Mancini mournfully, wounded by thatexpression.
"The king has no will but that which policy dictates, but that whichreasons of state impose upon him."
"Oh! it is because you have no love," cried Mary; "if you loved, sire,you would have a will."
On pronouncing these words, Mary raised her eyes to her lover, whom shesaw more pale and more cast down than an exile who is about to quit hisnative land forever. "Accuse me," murmured the king, "but do not say Ido not love you."
A long silence followed these words, which the young king had pronouncedwith a perfectly true and profound feeling. "I am unable to think thatto-morrow, and after to-morrow, I shall see you no more; I cannot thinkthat I am going to end my sad days at a distance from Paris; that thelips of an old man, of an unknown, should touch that hand which you holdwithin yours; no, in truth, I cannot think of all that, my dear sire,without having my poor heart burst with despair."
And Marie de Mancini did shed floods of tears. On his part, the king,much affected, carried his handkerchief to his mouth, and stifled a sob.
"See," said she, "the carriages have stopped, my sister waits for me,the time is come; what you are about to decide upon will be decided forlife. Oh, sire! you are willing, then, that I should lose you? Youare willing, then, Louis, that she to whom you have said 'I love you,'should belong to another than to her king; to her master, to her lover?Oh! courage, Louis! courage! One word, a single word! Say 'I will!' andall my life is enchained to yours, and all my heart is yours forever."
The king made no reply. Mary then looked at him as Dido looked at AEneasin the Elysian fields, fierce and disdainful.
"Farewell, then," said she; "farewell life! love! heaven!"
And she took a step away. The king detained her, seized her hand, whichhe pressed to his lips, and despair prevailing over the resolution heappeared to have inwardly formed, he let fall upon that beautiful handa burning tear of regret, which made Mary start, so really had thattear burnt her. She saw the humid eyes of the king, his pale brow, hisconvulsed lips, and cried, with an accent that cannot be described,--
"Oh, sire! you are a king, you weep, and yet I depart!"
As his sole reply, the king hid his face in his handkerchief. Theofficer uttered something so like a roar that it frightened the horses.Mademoiselle de Mancini, quite indignant, quitted the king's arm,hastily entered the carriage, crying to the coachman, "Go on, go on, andquick!"
The coachman obeyed, flogged his mules, and the heavy carriage rockedupon its creaking axle, whilst the king of France, alone, cast down,annihilated, did not dare to look either behind or before him.
CHAPTER 14. In which the King and the Lieutenant each give Proofs ofMemory