CHAPTER XXIII.
THE DUC DE RICHELIEU.
"At last!" cried the duchess, seeing Richelieu enter. "Are you, then,always the same? Your friends cannot count on you any more than yourmistresses."
"On the contrary, madame," said Richelieu, approaching the duchess, "forto-day, more than ever, I prove to your highness that I can reconcileeverything."
"Then you have made a sacrifice for us, duke," said Madame de Maine,laughing.
"Ten thousand times greater than you can imagine. Who do you think Ihave left?"
"Madame de Villars?" asked the duchess.
"Oh no! better than that."
"Madame de Duras?"
"No."
"Madame de Nesle?"
"Bah!"
"Madame de Polignac? Ah! pardon, cardinal."
"Go on. It does not concern his eminence."
"Madame de Soubise, Madame de Gabriant, Madame de Gace?"
"No, no, no."
"Mademoiselle de Charolais?"
"I have not seen her since my last trip to the Bastille."
"Mademoiselle de Valois?"
"Oh! I intend her for my wife, when we have succeeded, and I am aSpanish prince. No, madame; I have left, for your highness, the two mostcharming grisettes."
"Grisettes! Ah! fie!" cried the duchess, with a movement of contempt, "Idid not think that you descended to such creatures."
"Creatures! two charming women! Madame Michelin and Madame Renaud. Doyou not know them? Madame Michelin, a beautiful blonde; her husband is acarpet manufacturer; I recommend him to you, duchesse. Madame Renaud, anadorable brunette, with blue eyes and black lashes, and whose husbandis--. Ma foi! I do not remember exactly--"
"What M. Michelin is, probably," said Pompadour, laughing.
"Pardon, duke," replied Madame de Maine, who had lost all curiosity forRichelieu's love adventures as soon as they traveled from a certain set,"may I venture to remind you that we met here on important business!"
"Oh, yes! we are conspiring, are we not?"
"Had you forgotten it?"
"Ma foi! a conspiracy is not one of the gayest thing's in the world,therefore I forget it whenever I can; but that is nothing--whenever itis necessary I can come back to it. Now let us see: how does theconspiracy go on?"
"Here, duke, look at these letters, and you will know as much as we do."
"Oh! your highness must excuse me," said Richelieu; "but really I do notread those which are addressed to me, and I have seven or eight hundred,in the most charming writings, which I am keeping to amuse my old days.Here, Malezieux, you, who are clearness itself, give me a report."
"Well, these letters are the engagements of the Breton nobles to sustainthe rights of her highness."
"Very good."
"This paper is the protestation of the nobility."
"Oh! give it me. I protest."
"But you do not know against what."
"Never mind, I protest all the same."
And, taking the paper, he wrote his name after that of Guillaume Antoinede Chastellux, which was the last signature.
"Let him alone," said Cellamare to the duchess, "Richelieu's name isuseful everywhere."
"And this letter?" asked the duke, pointing to the missive of Philip V.
"That letter," continued Malezieux, "is written by King Philip himself."
"Then his Catholic majesty writes worse than I do," answered Richelieu."That pleases me. Raffe always says it is impossible."
"If the letter is badly written, the news it contains is none the lessgood," said Madame de Maine, "for it is a letter begging the king ofFrance to assemble the States-General to oppose the treaty of thequadruple alliance."
"And is your highness sure of the States-General?"
"Here is the protestation which engages the nobility. The cardinalanswers for the clergy, and there only remains the army."
"The army," said Laval, "is my affair. I have the signs-manual oftwenty-two colonels."
"First," said Richelieu, "I answer for my regiment, which is at Bayonne,and which, consequently, is able to be of great service to us."
"Yes," said Cellamare, "and we reckon on it, but I heard that there wasa question of changing the garrison."
"Seriously?"
"Very seriously. You understand, duke? We must be beforehand."
"Instantly--paper--ink; I will write to the Duc de Berwick. At themoment of commencing a campaign, no one will be astonished at my beggingnot to be removed from the theater of war."
The duchess hastened to give Richelieu what he asked, and taking a pen,presented it to him herself. The duke bowed, took the pen, and wrote aletter to the Duc de Berwick, begging that his regiment should not beremoved till May.
"Now read, madame," continued the duke, passing the paper to Madame deMaine. The duchess took the letter, read it, and passed it to herneighbor, who passed it on, so that it made the round of the table.Malezieux, who had it the last, could not repress a slight smile.
"Ah! poet," said Richelieu, "you are laughing; I suppose I have had themisfortune to offend that ridiculous prude called orthography. You knowI am a gentleman, and they forgot to teach me French; thinking, Isuppose, that for fifteen hundred francs a year I can always have avalet-de-chambre, who could write my letters and make my verses. Thiswill not prevent me, my dear Malezieux, from being in the Academy, notonly before you, but before Voltaire."
"In which case, will your valet-de-chambre write your discourse?"
"He is working at it, and you will see that it will not be worse thanthose that some academicians of my acquaintance have done themselves."
"Duke," said Madame de Maine, "it will doubtless be a curious thing tosee your reception into the illustrious body of which you speak, and Ipromise you to employ myself to-morrow in procuring a seat for thatday; but this evening we are occupied with other things."
"Well," said Richelieu, "speak, I listen. What have you resolved?"
"To obtain from the king, by means of these two letters, the convocationof the States-General; then, sure as we are of the three orders, wedepose the regent, and name Philip V. in his place."
"And as Philip V. cannot leave Madrid, he gives us full powers, and wegovern France in his stead. Well, it is not badly arranged, all that,but to convoke the States-General you must have an order from the king."
"The king will sign it."
"Without the regent's knowledge?"
"Without the regent's knowledge."
"Then you have promised the bishop of Frejus to make him a cardinal."
"No; but I will promise Villeroy a title and the Golden Fleece."
"I am afraid, madame," said the Prince of Cellamare, "that all this willnot determine the marshal to undertake so grave a responsibility."
"It is not the marshal we want; it is his wife."
"Ah! you remind me," said Richelieu, "I undertake it."
"You!" said the duchess with astonishment.
"Yes, madame," replied Richelieu, "you have your correspondence, I havemine. I have seen seven or eight letters that you have received to-day.Will your highness have the goodness to look at one I receivedyesterday?"
"Is this letter for me only, or may it be read aloud?"
"We are among discreet people, are we not?" said Richelieu, lookinground him.
"I think so," replied the duchess, "besides, the gravity of thesituation."
The duchess took the letter, and read:
"'MONSIEUR LE DUC--I am a woman of my word. My husband is on the eve of setting out for the little journey you know of. To-morrow, at eleven o'clock, I shall be at home for you only. Do not think that I decide on this step without having put all the blame on the shoulders of Monsieur de Villeroy. I begin to fear for him, as you may have undertaken to punish him. Come, then, at the appointed hour, to prove to me that I am not too much to blame in conspiring with you against my lord and master.'"
"Ah! pardon, this is not the one I intended
to show you, that is the oneof the day before yesterday. Here is yesterday's."
The duchess took the second letter, and read as follows:
"'MY DEAR ARMAND,'
--"Is this it, or are you mistaken again?" said the duchess toRichelieu.
"No, no; this time it is right."
The duchess went on.
"'MY DEAR ARMAND--You are a dangerous advocate when you plead against Monsieur de Villeroy. I need to exaggerate your talents to diminish my weakness. You had, in my heart, a judge, interested in your gaining your cause. Come to-morrow to plead again, and I will give you an audience.'
"And have you been there?"
"Certainly, madame."
"And the duchess?"
"Will do, I hope, all we desire; and, as she makes her husband dowhatever she likes, we shall have our order for the convocation of theStates-General on his return."
"And when will he return?"
"In a week."
"And can you be faithful all that time?"
"Madame, when I have undertaken a cause, I am capable of the greatestsacrifices to forward it."
"Then we may count on your word?"
"I pledge myself."
"You hear, gentlemen?" said the Duchesse de Maine. "Let us continue towork. You, Laval, act on the army. You, Pompadour, on the nobility. You,cardinal, on the clergy, and let us leave the Duc de Richelieu to act onMadame de Villeroy."
"And for what day is our next meeting fixed?" asked Cellamare.
"All depends on circumstances, prince," replied the duchess. "At anyrate, if I have not time to give you notice, I will send the samecarriage and coachman to fetch you who took you to the Arsenal the firsttime you came there." Then, turning toward Richelieu, "You give us therest of the evening, duke?"
"I ask your pardon," replied Richelieu, "but it is absolutelyimpossible; I am expected in the Rue des Bons Enfants."
"What! have you made it up with Madame de Sabran?"
"We never quarreled, madame."
"Take care, duke; that looks like constancy."
"No, madame, it is calculation."
"Ah! I see that you are on the road toward becoming devoted."
"I never do things by halves, madame."
"Well, we will follow your example, Monsieur le Duc. And now we havebeen an hour and a half away, and should, I think, return to thegardens, that our absence may not be too much noticed; besides, I thinkthe Goddess of Night is on the shore, waiting to thank us for thepreference we have given her over the sun."
"With your permission, however, madame," said Laval, "I must keep you aninstant longer, to tell you the trouble I am in."
"Speak, count," replied the duchess; "what is the matter?"
"It is about our requests and our protestations. It was agreed, if youremember, that they should be printed by workmen who cannot read."
"Well."
"I bought a press, and established it in the cellar of a house behindthe Val-de-Grace. I enlisted the necessary workmen, and, up to thepresent time, have had the most satisfactory results; but the noise ofour machine has given rise to the suspicion that we were coining falsemoney, and yesterday the police made a descent on the house;fortunately, there was time to stop the work and roll a bed over thetrap, so that they discovered nothing. But as the visit might berenewed, and with a less fortunate result, as soon as they were gone Idismissed the workmen, buried the press, and had all the proofs taken tomy own house."
"And you did well, count," cried the Cardinal de Polignac.
"But what are we to do now?" asked Madame de Maine.
"Have the press taken to my house," said Pompadour.
"Or mine," said Valef.
"No, no," said Malezieux; "a press is too dangerous a means. One of thepolice may easily slip in among the workmen, and all will be lost.Besides, there cannot be much left to print."
"The greater part is done," said Laval.
"Well," continued Malezieux, "my advice is, as before, to employ someintelligent copyist, whose silence we can buy."
"Yes, this will be much safer," said Polignac.
"But where can we find such a man?" said the prince. "It is not a thingfor which we can take the first comer."
"If I dared," said the Abbe Brigaud.
"Dare, abbe! dare!" said the duchess.
"I should say that I know the man you want."
"Did I not tell you," said Pompadour, "that the abbe was a preciousman?"
"But is he really what we want?" said Polignac.
"Oh, if your eminence had him made on purpose he could not do better,"said Brigaud. "A true machine, who will write everything and seenothing."
"But as a still greater precaution," said the prince, "we might put themost important papers into Spanish."
"Then, prince," said Brigaud, "I will send him to you."
"No, no," said Cellamare; "he must not set his foot within the Spanishembassy. It must be done through some third party."
"Yes, yes, we will arrange all that," said the duchess. "The man isfound--that is the principal thing. You answer for him, Brigaud?"
"I do, madame."
"That is all we require. And now there is nothing to keep us anylonger," continued the duchess. "Monsieur d'Harmental, give me yourarm, I beg."
The chevalier hastened to obey Madame de Maine, who seized thisopportunity to express her gratitude for the courage he had shown in theRue des Bons Enfants, and his skill in Brittany. At the door of thepavilion, the Greenland envoys--now dressed simply as guests--found alittle galley waiting to take them to the shore. Madame de Maine enteredfirst, seated D'Harmental by her, leaving Malezieux to do the honors toCellamare and Richelieu. As the duchess had said, the Goddess of Night,dressed in black gauze spangled with golden stars, was waiting on theother side of the lake, accompanied by the twelve Hours; and, as theduchess approached, they began to sing a cantata appropriate to thesubject. At the first notes of the solo D'Harmental started, for thevoice of the singer had so strong a resemblance to another voice, wellknown to him and dear to his recollection, that he rose involuntarily tolook for the person whose accents had so singularly moved him;unfortunately, in spite of the torches which the Hours, her subjects,held, he could not distinguish the goddess's features, which werecovered with a long veil, similar to her dress. He could only hear thatpure, flexible, sonorous voice, and that easy and skillful execution,which he had so much admired when he heard it for the first time in theRue du Temps-Perdu; and each accent of that voice, becoming moredistinct as he approached the shore, made him tremble from head to foot.At length the solo ceased, and the chorus recommenced; but D'Harmental,insensible to all other thoughts, continued to follow the vanishednotes.
"Well, Monsieur d'Harmental," said the duchess, "are you so accessibleto the charms of music that you forget that you are my cavalier?"
"Oh, pardon, madame," said D'Harmental, leaping to the shore, andholding out his hand to the duchess, "but I thought I recognized thatvoice, and I confess it brought back such memories!"
"That proves that you are an habitue of the opera, my dear chevalier,and that you appreciate, as it deserves, Mademoiselle Berry's talent."
"What, is that voice Mademoiselle Berry's?" asked D'Harmental, withastonishment.
"It is, monsieur; and if you do not believe me," replied the duchess,"permit me to take Laval's arm, that you may go and assure yourself ofit."
"Oh, madame," said D'Harmental, respectfully retaining the hand she wasabout to withdraw, "pray excuse me. We are in the gardens of Armida, anda moment of error may be permitted among so many enchantments;" and,presenting his arm again to the duchess, he conducted her toward thechateau. At this instant a feeble cry was heard, and feeble as it was,it reached D'Harmental's heart, and he turned involuntarily.
"What is it?" asked the duchess, with an uneasiness mixed withimpatience.
"Nothing, nothing," said Richelieu; "it is little Berry, who has thevapors. Make yourself easy, madame. I know th
e disease; it is notdangerous. If you particularly wish it, I would even go to-morrow tolearn how she is."
Two hours after this little accident--which was not sufficient todisturb the fete in any way--D'Harmental was brought back to Paris bythe Abbe Brigaud, and re-entered his little attic in the Rue duTemps-Perdu, from which he had been absent six weeks.