The Duke of Buckingham, obedient to the queen-mother's invitation,presented himself in her apartments half an hour after the departure ofthe Duc d'Orleans. When his name was announced by the gentleman-usherin attendance, the queen, who was sitting with her elbow resting on atable, and her head buried in her hands, rose, and smilingly receivedthe graceful and respectful salutation which the duke addressed to her.Anne of Austria was still beautiful. It is well known that at her thensomewhat advanced age, her long auburn hair, perfectly formed hands, andbright ruby lips, were still the admiration of all who saw her. On thepresent occasion, abandoned entirely to a remembrance which evoked allthe past in her heart, she looked almost as beautiful as in the daysof her youth, when her palace was open to the visits of the Duke ofBuckingham's father, then a young and impassioned man, as well as anunfortunate prince, who lived for her alone, and died with her name uponhis lips. Anne of Austria fixed upon Buckingham a look so tender inits expression, that it denoted, not alone the indulgence of maternalaffection, but a gentleness of expression like the coquetry of a womanwho loves.
"Your majesty," said Buckingham, respectfully, "desired to speak to me."
"Yes, duke," said the queen, in English; "will you be good enough to sitdown?"
The favor which Anne of Austria thus extended to the young man, and thewelcome sound of the language of a country from which the duke had beenestranged since his stay in France, deeply affected him. He immediatelyconjectured that the queen had a request to make of him. After havingabandoned the first few moments to the irrepressible emotions sheexperienced, the queen resumed the smiling air with which she hadreceived him. "What do you think of France?" she said, in French.
"It is a lovely country, madame," replied the duke.
"Had you ever seen it before?"
"Once only, madame."
"But, like all true Englishmen, you prefer England?"
"I prefer my own native land to France," replied the duke; "but ifyour majesty were to ask me which of the two cities, London or Paris, Ishould prefer as a residence, I should be forced to answer, Paris."
Anne of Austria observed the ardent manner with which these words hadbeen pronounced. "I am told my lord, you have rich possessions in yourown country and that you live in a splendid and time-honored palace."
"It was my father's residence," replied Buckingham, casting down hiseyes.
"Those are indeed great advantages and souvenirs," replied the queen,alluding, in spite of herself, to recollections from which it isimpossible voluntarily to detach one's self.
"In fact," said the duke, yielding to the melancholy influence of thisopening conversation, "sensitive persons live as much in the past or thefuture, as in the present."
"That is very true," said the queen, in a low tone of voice. "Itfollows, then, my lord," she added, "that you, who are a man of feeling,will soon quit France in order to shut yourself up with your wealth andyour relics of the past."
Buckingham raised his head and said, "I think not, madame."
"What do you mean?"
"On the contrary, I think of leaving England in order to take up myresidence in France."
It was now Anne of Austria's turn to exhibit surprise. "Why?" she said."Are you not in favor with the new king?"
"Perfectly so, madame, for his majesty's kindness to me is unbounded."
"It cannot," said the queen, "be because your fortune has diminished,for it is said to be enormous."
"My income, madame, has never been so large."
"There is some secret cause, then?"
"No, madame," said Buckingham, eagerly, "there is nothing secret in myreason for this determination. I prefer residence in France; I likea court so distinguished by its refinement and courtesy; I likethe amusements, somewhat serious in their nature, which are not theamusements of my own country, and which are met with in France."
Anne of Austria smiled shrewdly. "Amusements of a serious nature?" shesaid. "Has your Grace well reflected on their seriousness?" The dukehesitated. "There is no amusement so serious," continued the queen, "asto prevent a man of your rank----"
"Your majesty seems to insist greatly on that point," interrupted theduke.
"Do you think so, my lord?"
"If you will forgive me for saying so, it is the second time you havevaunted the attractions of England at the expense of the delight whichall experience who live in France."
Anne of Austria approached the young man, and placing her beautifulhand upon his shoulder, which trembled at the touch, said, "Believe me,monsieur, nothing can equal a residence in one's own native country. Ihave very frequently had occasion to regret Spain. I have lived long, mylord, very long for a woman, and I confess to you, that not a year haspassed I have not regretted Spain."
"Not one year, madame?" said the young duke coldly. "Not one of thoseyears when you reigned Queen of Beauty--as you still are, indeed?"
"A truce to flattery, duke, for I am old enough to be your mother." Sheemphasized these latter words in a manner, and with a gentleness, whichpenetrated Buckingham's heart. "Yes," she said, "I am old enough to beyour mother; and for this reason, I will give you a word of advice."
"That advice being that I should return to London?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, my lord."
The duke clasped his hands with a terrified gesture which could not failof its effect upon the queen, already disposed to softer feelings by thetenderness of her own recollections. "It must be so," added the queen.
"What!" he again exclaimed, "am I seriously told that I mustleave,--that I must exile myself,--that I am to flee at once?"
"Exile yourself, did you say? One would fancy France was your nativecountry."
"Madame, the country of those who love is the country of those whom theylove."
"Not another word, my lord; you forget whom you are addressing."
Buckingham threw himself on his knees. "Madame, you are the source ofintelligence, of goodness, and of compassion; you are the first personin this kingdom, not only by your rank, but the first person in theworld on account of your angelic attributes. I have said nothing,madame. Have I, indeed, said anything you should answer with such acruel remark? What have I betrayed?"
"You have betrayed yourself," said the queen, in a low tone of voice.
"I have said nothing,--I know nothing."
"You forget you have spoken and thought in the presence of a woman, andbesides----"
"Besides," said the duke, "no one knows you are listening to me."
"On the contrary, it is known; you have all the defects and all thequalities of youth."
"I have been betrayed or denounced, then?"
"By whom?"
"By those who, at Havre, had, with infernal perspicacity, read my heartlike an open book."
"I do not know whom you mean."
"M. de Bragelonne, for instance."
"I know the name without being acquainted with the person to whom itbelongs. M. de Bragelonne has said nothing."
"Who can it be, then? If any one, madame, had had the boldness to noticein me that which I do not myself wish to behold----"
"What would you do, duke?"
"There are secrets which kill those who discover them."
"He, then, who has discovered your secret, madman that you are, stilllives; and, what is more, you will not slay him, for he is armed on allsides,--he is a husband, a jealous man,--he is the second gentleman inFrance,--he is my son, the Duc d'Orleans."
The duke turned pale as death. "You are very cruel, madame," he said.
"You see, Buckingham," said Anne of Austria, sadly, "how you pass fromone extreme to another, and fight with shadows, when it would seem soeasy to remain at peace with yourself."
"If we fight, madame, we die on the field of battle," replied the youngman, gently, abandoning himself to the most gloomy depression.
Anne ran towards him and took him by the hand. "Villiers," she said, inEnglish, with a vehemence of tone which nothing could resist, "whatis it yo
u ask? Do you ask a mother to sacrifice her son,--a queen toconsent to the dishonor of her house? Child that you are, do not dreamof it. What! in order to spare your tears am I to commit these crimes?Villiers! you speak of the dead; the dead, at least, were full ofrespect and submission; they resigned themselves to an order of exile;they carried their despair away with them in their hearts, like apriceless possession, because the despair was caused by the woman theyloved, and because death, thus deceptive, was like a gift or a favorconferred upon them."
Buckingham rose, his features distorted, and his hands pressed againsthis heart. "You are right, madame," he said, "but those of whom youspeak had received their order of exile from the lips of the one whomthey loved; they were not driven away; they were entreated to leave, andwere not laughed at."
"No," murmured Anne of Austria, "they were not forgotten. But who saysyou are driven away, or that you are exiled? Who says that your devotionwill not be remembered? I do not speak on any one's behalf but my own,when I tell you to leave. Do me this kindness--grant me this favor; letme, for this also, be indebted to one of your name."
"It is for your sake, then, madame?"
"For mine alone."
"No one whom I shall leave behind me will venture to mock,--no princeeven who shall say, 'I required it.'"
"Listen to me, duke," and hereupon the dignified features of the queenassumed a solemn expression. "I swear to you that no one commands inthis matter but myself. I swear to you that, not only shall no oneeither laugh or boast in any way, but no one even shall fail in therespect due to your rank. Rely upon me, duke, as I rely upon you."
"You do not explain yourself, madame; my heart is full of bitterness,and I am in utter despair; no consolation, however gentle andaffectionate, can afford me relief."
"Do you remember your mother, duke?" replied the queen, with a winningsmile.
"Very slightly, madame; yet I remember how she used to cover me with hercaresses and her tears whenever I wept."
"Villiers," murmured the queen, passing her arm round the young man'sneck, "look upon me as your mother, and believe that no one shall evermake my son weep."
"I thank you, madame," said the young man, affected and almostsuffocated by his emotion, "I feel there is indeed still room in myheart for a gentler and nobler sentiment than love."
The queen-mother looked at him and pressed his hand. "Go," she said.
"When must I leave? Command me."
"At any time that may suit you, my lord," resumed the queen; "you willchoose your own day of departure. Instead, however, of setting offto-day, as you would doubtless wish to do, or to-morrow, as othersmay have expected, leave the day after to-morrow, in the evening; butannounce to-day that it is your wish to leave."
"My wish?" murmured the young duke.
"Yes, duke."
"And shall I never return to France?"
Anne of Austria reflected for a moment, seemingly absorbed in sad andserious thought. "It would be a consolation for me," she said, "ifyou were to return on the day when I shall be carried to my finalresting-place at Saint-Denis beside the king, my husband."
"Madame, you are goodness itself; the tide of prosperity is setting inon you; your cup brims over with happiness, and many long years are yetbefore you."
"In that case you will not come for some time, then," said the queen,endeavoring to smile.
"I shall not return," said Buckingham, "young as I am. Death does notreckon by years; it is impartial; some die young, some reach old age."
"I will not harbor any sorrowful ideas, duke. Let me comfort you; returnin two years. I perceive from your face that the very idea which saddensyou so much now, will have disappeared before six months have passed,and will be not only dead but forgotten in the period of absence I haveassigned you.'
"I think you judged me better a little while ago madame," replied theyoung man, "when you said that time is powerless against members of thefamily of Buckingham."
"Silence," said the queen, kissing the duke upon the forehead with anaffection she could not restrain. "Go, go; spare me and forget yourselfno longer. I am the queen; you are the subject of the king of England.King Charles awaits your return. Adieu, Villiers,--farewell."
"Forever!" replied the young man, and he fled, endeavoring to master hisemotion.
Anne leaned her head upon her hands, and then looking at herself in theglass, murmured, "It has been truly said, that a woman who has trulyloved is always young, and that the bloom of twenty years ever liesconcealed in some secret cloister of the heart."
CHAPTER 93. King Louis XIV. does not think Mademoiselle de la Valliereeither rich enough or pretty enough for a Gentleman of the Rank of theVicomte de Bragelonne