Les trois mousquetaires. English

  12 GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM

  Mme. Bonacieux and the duke entered the Louvre without difficulty. Mme.Bonacieux was known to belong to the queen; the duke wore the uniform ofthe Musketeers of M. de Treville, who, as we have said, were thatevening on guard. Besides, Germain was in the interests of the queen;and if anything should happen, Mme. Bonacieux would be accused of havingintroduced her lover into the Louvre, that was all. She took the riskupon herself. Her reputation would be lost, it is true; but of whatvalue in the world was the reputation of the little wife of a mercer?

  Once within the interior of the court, the duke and the young womanfollowed the wall for the space of about twenty-five steps. This spacepassed, Mme. Bonacieux pushed a little servants' door, open by day butgenerally closed at night. The door yielded. Both entered, and foundthemselves in darkness; but Mme. Bonacieux was acquainted with all theturnings and windings of this part of the Louvre, appropriated for thepeople of the household. She closed the door after her, took the duke bythe hand, and after a few experimental steps, grasped a balustrade, puther foot upon the bottom step, and began to ascend the staircase. Theduke counted two stories. She then turned to the right, followed thecourse of a long corridor, descended a flight, went a few steps farther,introduced a key into a lock, opened a door, and pushed the duke into anapartment lighted only by a lamp, saying, "Remain here, my Lord Duke;someone will come." She then went out by the same door, which shelocked, so that the duke found himself literally a prisoner.

  Nevertheless, isolated as he was, we must say that the Duke ofBuckingham did not experience an instant of fear. One of the salientpoints of his character was the search for adventures and a love ofromance. Brave, rash, and enterprising, this was not the first time hehad risked his life in such attempts. He had learned that the pretendedmessage from Anne of Austria, upon the faith of which he had come toParis, was a snare; but instead of regaining England, he had, abusingthe position in which he had been placed, declared to the queen that hewould not depart without seeing her. The queen had at first positivelyrefused; but at length became afraid that the duke, if exasperated,would commit some folly. She had already decided upon seeing him andurging his immediate departure, when, on the very evening of coming tothis decision, Mme. Bonacieux, who was charged with going to fetch theduke and conducting him to the Louvre, was abducted. For two days no oneknew what had become of her, and everything remained in suspense; butonce free, and placed in communication with Laporte, matters resumedtheir course, and she accomplished the perilous enterprise which, butfor her arrest, would have been executed three days earlier.

  Buckingham, left alone, walked toward a mirror. His Musketeer's uniformbecame him marvelously.

  At thirty-five, which was then his age, he passed, with just title, forthe handsomest gentleman and the most elegant cavalier of France orEngland.

  The favorite of two kings, immensely rich, all-powerful in a kingdomwhich he disordered at his fancy and calmed again at his caprice, GeorgeVilliers, Duke of Buckingham, had lived one of those fabulous existenceswhich survive, in the course of centuries, to astonish posterity.

  Sure of himself, convinced of his own power, certain that the laws whichrule other men could not reach him, he went straight to the object heaimed at, even were this object were so elevated and so dazzling that itwould have been madness for any other even to have contemplated it. Itwas thus he had succeeded in approaching several times the beautiful andproud Anne of Austria, and in making himself loved by dazzling her.

  George Villiers placed himself before the glass, as we have said,restored the undulations to his beautiful hair, which the weight of hishat had disordered, twisted his mustache, and, his heart swelling withjoy, happy and proud at being near the moment he had so long sighed for,he smiled upon himself with pride and hope.

  At this moment a door concealed in the tapestry opened, and a womanappeared. Buckingham saw this apparition in the glass; he uttered a cry.It was the queen!

  Anne of Austria was then twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age; thatis to say, she was in the full splendor of her beauty.

  Her carriage was that of a queen or a goddess; her eyes, which cast thebrilliancy of emeralds, were perfectly beautiful, and yet were at thesame time full of sweetness and majesty.

  Her mouth was small and rosy; and although her underlip, like that ofall princes of the House of Austria, protruded slightly beyond theother, it was eminently lovely in its smile, but as profoundlydisdainful in its contempt.

  Her skin was admired for its velvety softness; her hands and arms wereof surpassing beauty, all the poets of the time singing them asincomparable.

  Lastly, her hair, which, from being light in her youth, had becomechestnut, and which she wore curled very plainly, and with much powder,admirably set off her face, in which the most rigid critic could onlyhave desired a little less rouge, and the most fastidious sculptor alittle more fineness in the nose.

  Buckingham remained for a moment dazzled. Never had Anne of Austriaappeared to him so beautiful, amid balls, fetes, or carousals, as sheappeared to him at this moment, dressed in a simple robe of white satin,and accompanied by Donna Estafania--the only one of her Spanish womenwho had not been driven from her by the jealousy of the king or by thepersecutions of Richelieu.

  Anne of Austria took two steps forward. Buckingham threw himself at herfeet, and before the queen could prevent him, kissed the hem of herrobe.

  "Duke, you already know that it is not I who caused you to be writtento."

  "Yes, yes, madame! Yes, your Majesty!" cried the duke. "I know that Imust have been mad, senseless, to believe that snow would becomeanimated or marble warm; but what then! They who love believe easily inlove. Besides, I have lost nothing by this journey because I see you."

  "Yes," replied Anne, "but you know why and how I see you; because,insensible to all my sufferings, you persist in remaining in a citywhere, by remaining, you run the risk of your life, and make me run therisk of my honor. I see you to tell you that everything separatesus--the depths of the sea, the enmity of kingdoms, the sanctity of vows.It is sacrilege to struggle against so many things, my Lord. In short, Isee you to tell you that we must never see each other again."

  "Speak on, madame, speak on, Queen," said Buckingham; "the sweetness ofyour voice covers the harshness of your words. You talk of sacrilege!Why, the sacrilege is the separation of two hearts formed by God foreach other."

  "My Lord," cried the queen, "you forget that I have never said that Ilove you."

  "But you have never told me that you did not love me; and truly, tospeak such words to me would be, on the part of your Majesty, too greatan ingratitude. For tell me, where can you find a love like mine--a lovewhich neither time, nor absence, nor despair can extinguish, a lovewhich contents itself with a lost ribbon, a stray look, or a chanceword? It is now three years, madame, since I saw you for the first time,and during those three years I have loved you thus. Shall I tell youeach ornament of your toilet? Mark! I see you now. You were seated uponcushions in the Spanish fashion; you wore a robe of green satinembroidered with gold and silver, hanging sleeves knotted upon yourbeautiful arms--those lovely arms--with large diamonds. You wore a closeruff, a small cap upon your head of the same color as your robe, and inthat cap a heron's feather. Hold! Hold! I shut my eyes, and I can seeyou as you then were; I open them again, and I see what you are now--ahundred times more beautiful!"

  "What folly," murmured Anne of Austria, who had not the courage to findfault with the duke for having so well preserved her portrait in hisheart, "what folly to feed a useless passion with such remembrances!"

  "And upon what then must I live? I have nothing but memory. It is myhappiness, my treasure, my hope. Every time I see you is a fresh diamondwhich I enclose in the casket of my heart. This is the fourth which youhave let fall and I have picked up; for in three years, madame, I haveonly seen you four times--the first, which I have described to you; thesecond, at the mansion of Madame de Chevreuse; the third
, in the gardensof Amiens."

  "Duke," said the queen, blushing, "never speak of that evening."

  "Oh, let us speak of it; on the contrary, let us speak of it! That isthe most happy and brilliant evening of my life! You remember what abeautiful night it was? How soft and perfumed was the air; how lovelythe blue heavens and star-enameled sky! Ah, then, madame, I was able forone instant to be alone with you. Then you were about to tell meall--the isolation of your life, the griefs of your heart. You leanedupon my arm--upon this, madame! I felt, in bending my head toward you,your beautiful hair touch my cheek; and every time that it touched me Itrembled from head to foot. Oh, Queen! Queen! You do not know whatfelicity from heaven, what joys from paradise, are comprised in a momentlike that. Take my wealth, my fortune, my glory, all the days I have tolive, for such an instant, for a night like that. For that night,madame, that night you loved me, I will swear it."

  "My Lord, yes; it is possible that the influence of the place, the charmof the beautiful evening, the fascination of your look--the thousandcircumstances, in short, which sometimes unite to destroy a woman--weregrouped around me on that fatal evening; but, my Lord, you saw the queencome to the aid of the woman who faltered. At the first word you daredto utter, at the first freedom to which I had to reply, I called forhelp."

  "Yes, yes, that is true. And any other love but mine would have sunkbeneath this ordeal; but my love came out from it more ardent and moreeternal. You believed that you would fly from me by returning to Paris;you believed that I would not dare to quit the treasure over which mymaster had charged me to watch. What to me were all the treasures in theworld, or all the kings of the earth! Eight days after, I was backagain, madame. That time you had nothing to say to me; I had risked mylife and favor to see you but for a second. I did not even touch yourhand, and you pardoned me on seeing me so submissive and so repentant."

  "Yes, but calumny seized upon all those follies in which I took no part,as you well know, my Lord. The king, excited by the cardinal, made aterrible clamor. Madame de Vernet was driven from me, Putange wasexiled, Madame de Chevreuse fell into disgrace, and when you wished tocome back as ambassador to France, the king himself--remember, mylord--the king himself opposed it."

  "Yes, and France is about to pay for her king's refusal with a war. I amnot allowed to see you, madame, but you shall every day hear of me. Whatobject, think you, have this expedition to Re and this league with theProtestants of La Rochelle which I am projecting? The pleasure of seeingyou. I have no hope of penetrating, sword in hand, to Paris, I know thatwell. But this war may bring round a peace; this peace will require anegotiator; that negotiator will be me. They will not dare to refuse methen; and I will return to Paris, and will see you again, and will behappy for an instant. Thousands of men, it is true, will have to pay formy happiness with their lives; but what is that to me, provided I seeyou again! All this is perhaps folly--perhaps insanity; but tell me whatwoman has a lover more truly in love; what queen a servant more ardent?"

  "My Lord, my Lord, you invoke in your defense things which accuse youmore strongly. All these proofs of love which you would give me arealmost crimes."

  "Because you do not love me, madame! If you loved me, you would view allthis otherwise. If you loved me, oh, if you loved me, that would be toogreat happiness, and I should run mad. Ah, Madame de Chevreuse was lesscruel than you. Holland loved her, and she responded to his love."

  "Madame de Chevreuse was not queen," murmured Anne of Austria, overcome,in spite of herself, by the expression of so profound a passion.

  "You would love me, then, if you were not queen! Madame, say that youwould love me then! I can believe that it is the dignity of your rankalone which makes you cruel to me; I can believe that, had you beenMadame de Chevreuse, poor Buckingham might have hoped. Thanks for thosesweet words! Oh, my beautiful sovereign, a hundred times, thanks!"

  "Oh, my Lord! You have ill understood, wrongly interpreted; I did notmean to say--"

  "Silence, silence!" cried the duke. "If I am happy in an error, do nothave the cruelty to lift me from it. You have told me yourself, madame,that I have been drawn into a snare; I, perhaps, may leave my life init--for, although it may be strange, I have for some time had apresentiment that I should shortly die." And the duke smiled, with asmile at once sad and charming.

  "Oh, my God!" cried Anne of Austria, with an accent of terror whichproved how much greater an interest she took in the duke than sheventured to tell.

  "I do not tell you this, madame, to terrify you; no, it is evenridiculous for me to name it to you, and, believe me, I take no heed ofsuch dreams. But the words you have just spoken, the hope you havealmost given me, will have richly paid all--were it my life."

  "Oh, but I," said Anne, "I also, duke, have had presentiments; I alsohave had dreams. I dreamed that I saw you lying bleeding, wounded."

  "In the left side, was it not, and with a knife?" interruptedBuckingham.

  "Yes, it was so, my Lord, it was so--in the left side, and with a knife.Who can possibly have told you I had had that dream? I have imparted itto no one but my God, and that in my prayers."

  "I ask for no more. You love me, madame; it is enough."

  "I love you, I?"

  "Yes, yes. Would God send the same dreams to you as to me if you did notlove me? Should we have the same presentiments if our existences did nottouch at the heart? You love me, my beautiful queen, and you will weepfor me?"

  "Oh, my God, my God!" cried Anne of Austria, "this is more than I canbear. In the name of heaven, Duke, leave me, go! I do not know whether Ilove you or love you not; but what I know is that I will not beperjured. Take pity on me, then, and go! Oh, if you are struck inFrance, if you die in France, if I could imagine that your love for mewas the cause of your death, I could not console myself; I should runmad. Depart then, depart, I implore you!"

  "Oh, how beautiful you are thus! Oh, how I love you!" said Buckingham.

  "Go, go, I implore you, and return hereafter! Come back as ambassador,come back as minister, come back surrounded with guards who will defendyou, with servants who will watch over you, and then I shall no longerfear for your days, and I shall be happy in seeing you."

  "Oh, is this true what you say?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, then, some pledge of your indulgence, some object which came fromyou, and may remind me that I have not been dreaming; something you haveworn, and that I may wear in my turn--a ring, a necklace, a chain."

  "Will you depart--will you depart, if I give you that you demand?"

  "Yes."

  "This very instant?"

  "Yes."

  "You will leave France, you will return to England?"

  "I will, I swear to you."

  "Wait, then, wait."

  Anne of Austria re-entered her apartment, and came out again almostimmediately, holding a rosewood casket in her hand, with her cipherencrusted with gold.

  "Here, my Lord, here," said she, "keep this in memory of me."

  Buckingham took the casket, and fell a second time on his knees.

  "You have promised me to go," said the queen.

  "And I keep my word. Your hand, madame, your hand, and I depart!"

  Anne of Austria stretched forth her hand, closing her eyes, and leaningwith the other upon Estafania, for she felt that her strength was aboutto fail her.

  Buckingham pressed his lips passionately to that beautiful hand, andthen rising, said, "Within six months, if I am not dead, I shall haveseen you again, madame--even if I have to overturn the world." Andfaithful to the promise he had made, he rushed out of the apartment.

  In the corridor he met Mme. Bonacieux, who waited for him, and who, withthe same precautions and the same good luck, conducted him out of theLouvre.