Chapter XXXVI. The Portrait.

  In that malady which is termed love the paroxysms succeed each otherat intervals, ever accelerating from the moment the disease declaresitself. By and by, the paroxysms are less frequent, in proportion asthe cure approaches. This being laid down as a general axiom, and as theleading article of a particular chapter, we will now proceed withour recital. The next day, the day fixed by the king for the firstconversation in Saint-Aignan's room, La Valliere, on opening one ofthe folds of the screen, found upon the floor a letter in the king'shandwriting. The letter had been passed, through a slit in the floor,from the lower apartment to her own. No indiscreet hand or curious gazecould have brought or did bring this single paper. This, too, was one ofMalicorne's ideas. Having seen how very serviceable Saint-Aignan wouldbecome to the king on account of his apartment, he did not wish that thecourtier should become still more indispensable as a messenger, and sohe had, on his own private account, reserved this last post for himself.La Valliere most eagerly read the letter, which fixed two o'clockthat same afternoon for the rendezvous, and which indicated the way ofraising the trap-door which was constructed out of the flooring. "Makeyourself look as beautiful as you can," added the postscript of theletter, words which astonished the young girl, but at the same timereassured her.

  The hours passed away very slowly, but the time fixed, however, arrivedat last. As punctual as the priestess Hero, Louise lifted up thetrap-door at the last stroke of the hour of two, and found the king onthe steps, waiting for her with the greatest respect, in order togive her his hand to descend. The delicacy and deference shown in thisattention affected her very powerfully. At the foot of the staircasethe two lovers found the comte, who, with a smile and a low reverencedistinguished by the best taste, expressed his thanks to La Vallierefor the honor she conferred upon him. Then turning towards the king, hesaid:

  "Sire, our man is here." La Valliere looked at the king with someuneasiness.

  "Mademoiselle," said the king, "if I have begged you to do me the honorof coming down here, it was from an interested motive. I have procureda most admirable portrait painter, who is celebrated for the fidelityof his likenesses, and I wish you to be kind enough to authorize himto paint yours. Besides, if you positively wish it, the portrait shallremain in your own possession." La Valliere blushed. "You see," saidthe king to her, "we shall not be three as you wished, but four instead.And, so long as we are not alone, there can be as many present as youplease." La Valliere gently pressed her royal lover's hand.

  "Shall we pass into the next room, sire?" said Saint-Aignan, opening thedoor to let his guests precede him. The king walked behind La Valliere,and fixed his eyes lingeringly and passionately upon that neck as whiteas snow, upon which her long fair ringlets fell in heavy masses. LaValliere was dressed in a thick silk robe of pearl gray color, with atinge of rose, with jet ornaments, which displayed to greater effectthe dazzling purity of her skin, holding in her slender and transparenthands a bouquet of heartsease, Bengal roses, and clematis, surroundedwith leaves of the tenderest green, above which uprose, like a tinygoblet spilling magic influence a Haarlem tulip of gray and violet tintsof a pure and beautiful species, which had cost the gardener five years'toil of combinations, and the king five thousand francs. Louis hadplaced this bouquet in La Valliere's hand as he saluted her. In theroom, the door of which Saint-Aignan had just opened, a young man wasstanding, dressed in a purple velvet jacket, with beautiful black eyesand long brown hair. It was the painter; his canvas was quite ready, andhis palette prepared for use.

  He bowed to La Valliere with the grave curiosity of an artist whois studying his model, saluted the king discreetly, as if he did notrecognize him, and as he would, consequently, have saluted any othergentleman. Then, leading Mademoiselle de la Valliere to the seat he hadarranged for her, he begged her to sit down.

  The young girl assumed an attitude graceful and unrestrained, her handsoccupied and her limbs reclining on cushions; and in order that her gazemight not assume a vague or affected expression, the painter beggedher to choose some kind of occupation, so as to engage her attention;whereupon Louis XIV., smiling, sat down on the cushions at La Valliere'sfeet; so that she, in the reclining posture she had assumed, leaningback in the armchair, holding her flowers in her hand, and he, with hiseyes raised towards her and fixed devouringly on her face--they, bothtogether, formed so charming a group, that the artist contemplatedpainting it with professional delight, while on his side, Saint-Aignanregarded them with feelings of envy. The painter sketched rapidly; andvery soon, beneath the earliest touches of the brush, there started intolife, out of the gray background, the gentle, poetry-breathing face,with its soft calm eyes and delicately tinted cheeks, enframed in themasses of hair which fell about her neck. The lovers, however, spokebut little, and looked at each other a great deal; sometimes their eyesbecame so languishing in their gaze, that the painter was obliged tointerrupt his work in order to avoid representing an Erycina insteadof La Valliere. It was on such occasions that Saint-Aignan came to therescue, and recited verses, or repeated one of those little tales suchas Patru related, and Tallemant des Reaux wrote so cleverly. Or, itmight be that La Valliere was fatigued, and the sitting was, therefore,suspended for awhile; and, immediately, a tray of precious porcelainladen with the most beautiful fruits which could be obtained, and richwines distilling their bright colors in silver goblets, beautifullychased, served as accessories to the picture of which the painter couldbut retrace the most ephemeral resemblance.

  Louis was intoxicated with love, La Valliere with happiness,Saint-Aignan with ambition, and the painter was storing up recollectionsfor his old age. Two hours passed away in this manner, and four o'clockhaving struck, La Valliere rose, and made a sign to the king. Louis alsorose, approached the picture, and addressed a few flattering remarksto the painter. Saint-Aignan also praised the picture, which, as hepretended, was already beginning to assume an accurate resemblance. LaValliere in her turn, blushingly thanked the painter and passed into thenext room, where the king followed her, after having previously summonedSaint-Aignan.

  "Will you not come to-morrow?" he said to La Valliere.

  "Oh! sire, pray think that some one will be sure to come to my room, andwill not find me there."

  "Well?"

  "What will become of me in that case?"

  "You are very apprehensive, Louise."

  "But at all events, suppose Madame were to send for me?"

  "Oh!" replied the king, "will the day never come when you yourself willtell me to brave everything so that I may not have to leave you again?"

  "On that day, sire, I shall be quite out of my mind, and you must notbelieve me."

  "To-morrow, Louise."

  La Valliere sighed, but, without the courage to oppose her royal lover'swish, she repeated, "To-morrow, then, since you desire it, sire," andwith these words she ran lightly up the stairs, and disappeared from herlover's gaze.

  "Well, sire?" inquired Saint-Aignan, when she had left.

  "Well, Saint-Aignan, yesterday I thought myself the happiest of men."

  "And does your majesty, then, regard yourself to-day," said the comte,smiling, "as the unhappiest of men?"

  "No; but my love for her is an unquenchable thirst; in vain do I drink,in vain do I swallow the drops of water which your industry procures forme; the more I drink, the more unquenchable it becomes."

  "Sire, that is in some degree your own fault, and your majesty alone hasmade the position such as it is."

  "You are right."

  "In that case, therefore, the means to be happy, is to fancy yourselfsatisfied, and to wait."

  "Wait! you know that word, then?"

  "There, there, sire--do not despair: I have already been at work on yourbehalf--I have still other resources in store." The king shook his headin a despairing manner.

  "What, sire! have you not been satisfied hitherto?"

  "Oh! yes, indeed, yes, my dear Saint-Aignan; but invent, for Heaven'ssake, inv
ent some further project yet."

  "Sire, I undertake to do my best, and that is all that any one can do."

  The king wished to see the portrait again, as he was unable to see theoriginal. He pointed out several alterations to the painter and left theroom, and then Saint-Aignan dismissed the artist. The easel, paints, andpainter himself, had scarcely gone, when Malicorne showed his head inthe doorway. He was received by Saint-Aignan with open arms, but stillwith a little sadness, for the cloud which had passed across the royalsun, veiled, in its turn, the faithful satellite, and Malicorne at aglance perceived the melancholy that brooded on Saint-Aignan's face.

  "Oh, monsieur le comte," he said, "how sad you seem!"

  "And good reason too, my dear Monsieur Malicorne. Will you believe thatthe king is still dissatisfied?"

  "With his staircase, do you mean?"

  "Oh, no; on the contrary, he is delighted with the staircase."

  "The decorations of the apartments, I suppose, don't please him."

  "Oh! he has not even thought of that. No, indeed, it seems that what hasdissatisfied the king--"

  "I will tell you, monsieur le comte,--he is dissatisfied at findinghimself the fourth person at a rendezvous of this kind. How is itpossible you could not have guessed that?"

  "Why, how is it likely I could have done so, dear M. Malicorne, when Ifollowed the king's instructions to the very letter?"

  "Did his majesty really insist on your being present?"

  "Positively."

  "And also required that the painter, whom I met downstairs just now,should be here, too?"

  "He insisted upon it."

  "In that case, I can easily understand why his majesty is dissatisfied."

  "What! dissatisfied that I have so punctually and so literally obeyedhis orders? I don't understand you."

  Malicorne began to scratch his ear, as he asked, "What time did the kingfix for the rendezvous in your apartments?"

  "Two o'clock."

  "And you were waiting for the king?"

  "Ever since half-past one; it would have been a fine thing, indeed, tohave been unpunctual with his majesty."

  Malicorne, notwithstanding his respect for Saint-Aignan, could not helpsmiling. "And the painter," he said, "did the king wish him to be hereat two o'clock, also?"

  "No; but I had him waiting here from midday. Far better, you know, fora painter to be kept waiting a couple of hours than the king a singleminute."

  Malicorne began to laugh aloud. "Come, dear Monsieur Malicorne," saidSaint-Aignan, "laugh less at me, and speak a little more freely, I beg."

  "Well, then, monsieur le comte, if you wish the king to be a little moresatisfied the next time he comes--"

  "'_Ventre saint-gris!_' as his grandfather used to say; of course I wishit."

  "Well, all you have to do is, when the king comes to-morrow, to beobliged to go away on a most pressing matter of business, which cannotpossibly be postponed, and stay away for twenty minutes."

  "What! leave the king alone for twenty minutes?" cried Saint-Aignan, inalarm.

  "Very well, do as you like; don't pay any attention to what I say," saidMalicorne, moving towards the door.

  "Nay, nay, dear Monsieur Malicorne; on the contrary, go on--I begin tounderstand you. But the painter--"

  "Oh! the painter must be half an hour late."

  "Half an hour--do you really think so?"

  "Yes, I do, decidedly."

  "Very well, then, I will do as you tell me."

  "And my opinion is, that you will be doing perfectly right. Will youallow me to call upon you for the latest news to-morrow?"

  "Of course."

  "I have the honor to be your most respectful servant, M. deSaint-Aignan," said Malicorne, bowing profoundly and retiring from theroom backwards.

  "There is no doubt that fellow has more invention than I have," saidSaint-Aignan, as if compelled by his conviction to admit it.