Part 7

— Yes, that is plain to see… But let us return to our business… Manicamp then wishes to make a second maid of honor?

— You see what he writes you, Monsieur le Comte.

— Who was the first, already?

Malicorne felt the red rise to his face.

— A charming maid of honor, he hastened to reply, Mlle de Montalais.

— Ah! ah! you know her, Monsieur?

— Yes, she is my fiancée, or thereabouts.

— That is another matter, then… A thousand compliments! cried de Guiche, upon whose lips there already fluttered a courtier's jest, and whom this title of fiancée given by Malicorne to Mlle de Montalais recalled to respect for women.

— And the second warrant, for whom is it? asked de Guiche. Is it for Manicamp's fiancée?… In that case, I pity her. Poor girl! she will have for a husband a sorry rogue.

— No, Monsieur le Comte… The second warrant is for Mlle La Baume Le Blanc de La Vallière.

— Unknown, said de Guiche.

— Unknown? yes, Monsieur, said Malicorne, smiling in his turn.

— Good! I shall speak of her to Monsieur. By the way, is she a demoiselle?

— Of very good family, maid of honor to the Dowager Madame.

— Very well! Will you accompany me to Monsieur?

— Gladly, if you do me that honor.

— Have you your carriage?

— No, I came on horseback.

— In that attire?

— No, Monsieur; I arrived from Orléans by post, and changed my traveling clothes for these to present myself at your house.

— Ah! true, you told me you were arriving from Orléans.

And he thrust Manicamp's letter, crumpling it, into his pocket.

— Monsieur, said Malicorne timidly, I believe you have not read everything.

— How, I have not read everything?

— No, there were two notes in the same envelope.

— Ah! ah! are you sure?

— Oh! quite sure.

— Let us see, then.

And the count broke the seal again.

— Ah! said he, faith, it is true.

And he unfolded the paper he had not yet read.

— I suspected as much, he said, another warrant for a post with Monsieur; oh! but Manicamp is a bottomless pit. Oh! the scoundrel, does he deal in them, then?

— No, Monsieur le Comte, he wishes to make a gift of it.

— To whom?

— To me, Monsieur.

— But why did you not say so at once, my dear Monsieur de Mauvaise corne.

— Malicorne!

— Ah! pardon; it is the Latin that confuses me, the dreadful habit of etymologies. Why the devil do they teach Latin to young men of family? Mala: bad. You understand, it is all one. You forgive me, do you not, Monsieur de Malicorne?

— Your kindness touches me, Monsieur; but that is a reason for me to tell you something at once.

— What thing, Monsieur?

— I am not a gentleman: I have a good heart, a little wit, but I am called Malicorne plain and simple.

— Well! cried de Guiche, looking at the roguish face of his interlocutor, you strike me, Monsieur, as an agreeable fellow. I like your face, Monsieur Malicorne; you must have furiously good qualities to have pleased that egoist Manicamp. Be frank, you are some saint descended to earth.

— Why so?

— Blood and thunder! that he should give you something. Did you not say he wished to make you a gift of a post with the king?

— Pardon, Monsieur le Comte; if I obtain this post, it is not he who will have given it to me, it is you.

— And then he will perhaps not have given it to you entirely for nothing?

— Monsieur le Comte…

— Wait now: there is a Malicorne at Orléans. Parbleu! that is it! who lends money to Monsieur le Prince.

— I believe that is my father, Monsieur.

— Ah! there it is! Monsieur le Prince has the father, and that frightful devourer Manicamp has the son. Beware, Monsieur, I know him; he will gnaw you, mort de Dieu! to the very bones.

— Only, I lend without interest, I, Monsieur, said Malicorne smiling.

— I was saying you were a saint or something near it, Monsieur Malicorne. You shall have your post or I lose my name.

— Oh! Monsieur le Comte, what gratitude! said Malicorne, transported.

— Let us go to the prince's, my dear Monsieur Malicorne, let us go to the prince's.

And de Guiche headed toward the door, signing to Malicorne to follow him.

But at the moment they were about to cross the threshold, a young man appeared on the other side.

He was a horseman of four-and-twenty to five-and-twenty years, pale of face, thin of lip, bright of eye, with brown hair and brows.

— Eh! good day, said he suddenly, thrusting, as it were, Guiche back into the interior of the courtyard.

— Ah! ah! you here, de Wardes. You, booted, spurred, and whip in hand!

— That is the attire fitting a man who is leaving for Le Havre. Tomorrow there will be no one left in Paris.

And the newcomer ceremoniously saluted Malicorne, to whom his fine habit gave the airs of a prince.

— M. Malicorne, said de Guiche to his friend.

De Wardes bowed.

— M. de Wardes, said de Guiche to Malicorne.

Malicorne bowed in his turn.

— Come now, de Wardes, continued de Guiche, tell us this, you who are on the lookout for such things: what posts are there still to be given at court, or rather in Monsieur's household?

— In Monsieur's household? said de Wardes, raising his eyes to heaven to search. Wait now… that of grand equerry, I believe.

— Oh! cried Malicorne, let us not speak of such posts, Monsieur; my ambition does not go a quarter of the way.

De Wardes had a more suspicious eye than de Guiche; he guessed Malicorne at once.

— The fact is, said he, measuring him with a glance, that to fill that post one must be duke and peer.

— All I ask, said Malicorne, is a very humble post; I am lowly and esteem myself no higher than I am.

— Monsieur Malicorne, whom you see, said de Guiche to de Wardes, is a charming fellow who has no other misfortune than not being a gentleman. But, as you know, I care little for the man who is only a gentleman.

— Agreed, said de Wardes; but only I will observe to you, my dear count, that without quality one cannot reasonably hope to enter Monsieur's service.

— That is true, said the count, the etiquette is formal. The devil! the devil! we had not thought of that.

— Alas! there is a great misfortune for me, said Malicorne, paling slightly, a great misfortune, Monsieur le Comte.

— But not without remedy, I hope, answered de Guiche.

— Pardieu! cried de Wardes, the remedy is ready found; they will make you a gentleman, my dear sir: His Eminence Cardinal Mazarin did nothing else from morning to night.

— Peace, peace, de Wardes! said the count, no bad jests; it is not fitting among us to jest thus; nobility may be bought, true, but it is misfortune enough that nobles do not laugh at it.

— Faith! you are quite puritanical, as the English say.

— M. le Vicomte de Bragelonne, announced a valet in the courtyard, as he would have in a salon.

— Ah! dear Raoul, come, come hither. All booted too! all spurred too! You are leaving, then?

Bragelonne approached the group of young men, and saluted with that grave and gentle air peculiar to him. His salute was addressed above all to de Wardes, whom he did not know, and whose features had armed themselves with a strange coldness at the sight of Raoul.

— My friend, said he to de Guiche, I come to ask your company. We are leaving for Le Havre, I presume?

— Ah! that is for the best! that is charming! We shall make a marvelous journey. Monsieur Malicorne, M. de Bragelonne. Ah! M. de Wardes, let me present you.

The young men exchanged a measured salute. The two natures seemed from the outset disposed to take each other's measure. De Wardes was supple, fine, dissembling; Raoul, serious, well-bred, upright.

— Settle us, de Wardes and me, Raoul.

— To what purpose?

— To the purpose of nobility.

— Who should know of it, if not a Grammont?

— I ask not compliments, I ask your opinion.

— Still must I know the object of the discussion.

— De Wardes maintains that titles are abused; I maintain that title is unnecessary to a man.

— And you are right, said Bragelonne quietly.

— But I too, resumed de Wardes with a kind of obstinacy, I too, Monsieur le Vicomte, maintain that I am right.

— What were you saying, Monsieur?

— I was saying, I, that all that can be done in France is done to humble gentlemen.

— And who does that? asked Raoul.

— The king himself; he surrounds himself with men who could not show four quarters.

— Come now! said de Guiche, I know not where the devil you saw that, de Wardes.

— A single example.

And de Wardes covered Bragelonne entirely with his gaze.

— Speak.

— Do you know who has just been named captain-general of the musketeers, a post worth more than a peerage, a post giving precedence over the marshals of France?

Raoul began to redden, for he saw where de Wardes was aiming.

— No; whom have they named? It is not long in any case; for a week ago the post was still vacant; so much so that the king refused it to Monsieur, who asked it for one of his protégés.

— Well! my dear fellow, the king refused it to Monsieur's protégé to give it to the Chevalier d'Artagnan, to a cadet of Gascony who dragged his sword thirty years in antechambers.

— Pardon, Monsieur, if I stop you, said Raoul, launching a look full of severity at de Wardes; but you seem to me not to know him of whom you speak.

— I do not know M. d'Artagnan! Eh! my God! who does not know him?

— Those who know him, Monsieur, resumed Raoul with more calm and coldness, are bound to say that, if he is not as good a gentleman as the king, which is not his fault, he equals all the kings of the world in courage and loyalty. That is my opinion, Monsieur, and thank God! I have known M. d'Artagnan since my birth.

De Wardes was about to reply, but de Guiche interrupted him.

Chapter LXXXII — The Portrait of Madame

The discussion was growing bitter; de Guiche had perfectly understood it.

Indeed, there was in Bragelonne's glance something instinctively hostile.

There was in de Wardes's something like a calculated aggression. Without rendering account of the diverse sentiments agitating his two friends, de Guiche thought to parry the blow he felt ready to be dealt by one or the other and perhaps by both.

— Gentlemen, said he, we must part; I must call upon Monsieur. Let us make our appointments: you, de Wardes, come with me to the Louvre; you, Raoul, remain master of the house, and as you are the counsel of all that is done here, you will give the last look to my departure preparations.

Raoul, a man who neither seeks nor fears a quarrel, gave a sign of assent with his head, and sat down on a bench in the sun.

— Very well, said de Guiche, stay there, Raoul, and have the two horses I have just bought shown to you; you will tell me your thought, for I bought them only on condition that you would ratify the bargain. By the way, pardon! I forgot to ask you news of M. le Comte de La Fère. And in pronouncing these last words, he observed de Wardes and tried to catch the effect the name of Raoul's father would produce upon him.

— Thank you, answered the young man. M. le Comte is well.

A flash of hatred passed in de Wardes's eyes. De Guiche appeared not to remark this funereal gleam, and going to give a handshake to Raoul:

— It is agreed, is it not, Bragelonne, said he, you will join us in the courtyard of the Palais-Royal?

Then, making sign to de Wardes to follow him, who balanced now on one foot, now on the other.

— We are leaving, said he; come, Monsieur Malicorne.

This name made Raoul start.

It seemed to him he had already heard this name pronounced once; but he could not recall on what occasion.

While he searched, half dreaming, half irritated by his conversation with de Wardes, the three young men made their way toward the Palais-Royal, where Monsieur lodged.

Malicorne understood two things.

The first, that the young men had something to say to each other.

The second, that he should not walk on the same rank as them. He remained behind.

— Are you mad? said de Guiche to his companion, when they had taken a few steps outside the Hôtel de Grammont; you attack M. d'Artagnan, and that before Raoul!

— Well! after? said de Wardes.

— How, after?

— Doubtless: is it forbidden to attack M. d'Artagnan?

— But you know well that M. d'Artagnan makes the quarter of that whole so glorious and so redoubtable called the Musketeers.

— Be it so; but I do not see why that should prevent me from hating M. d'Artagnan.

— What has he done to you?

— Oh! to me, nothing.

— Then why hate him?

— Ask that of my father's shade.

— In truth, my dear de Wardes, you astonish me: M. d'Artagnan is not of those men who leave behind an enmity without settling their account. Your father, I have been told, was high-handed on his side. Now, there is no such rough enmity that is not washed in the blood of a good and loyal sword-thrust.

— What would you have, dear friend, that hatred existed between my father and M. d'Artagnan; he, a mere child, bred me in that hatred, and it is a particular legacy he left me amid his inheritance.

— And this hatred had for object M. d'Artagnan alone?

— Oh! M. d'Artagnan was too well incorporated in his three friends for the overflow not to splash upon them; it is of measure, believe me, such that the others, should it happen, shall have no cause to complain of their share.

De Guiche had his eyes fixed on de Wardes; he shuddered seeing the pale smile of the young man. Something like a presentiment made his thought start; he said to himself that the time of great sword-thrusts between gentlemen was past, but that hatred, extravasating at the bottom of the heart instead of spreading outward, was none the less hatred; that sometimes the smile was as sinister as the threat, and that in a word, finally, after the fathers, who had hated with the heart and fought with the arm, would come the sons; that they too would hate with the heart, but would fight no more save with intrigue or treason. Now, as it was not Raoul he suspected of treason or intrigue, it was for Raoul that de Guiche shuddered. But while these dark thoughts clouded de Guiche's brow, de Wardes had become completely master of himself again.

— At all events, said he, it is not that I bear personally against M. de Bragelonne, I do not know him.

— In any case, de Wardes, said de Guiche with a certain severity, forget not one thing, which is that Raoul is the best of my friends.

De Wardes inclined.

The conversation rested there, though de Guiche did all he could to draw his secret from his heart; but de Wardes had doubtless resolved to say no more, and remained impenetrable. De Guiche promised himself more satisfaction with Raoul. Meanwhile, they arrived at the Palais-Royal, which was surrounded by a crowd of curious onlookers.

Monsieur's household awaited his orders to mount horse and escort the ambassadors charged with bringing back the young princess. This luxury of horses, arms, and liveries compensated in those times, thanks to the good will of the peoples and the traditions of respectful attachment to kings, for the enormous expenses covered by taxation.

Mazarin had said: "Let them sing, provided they pay." Louis XIV said: "Let them see." Sight had replaced voice: one might still look, but one could no longer sing.

M. de Guiche left de Wardes and Malicorne at the foot of the great staircase; but he, who shared Monsieur's favor with the Chevalier de Lorraine, who made him white teeth but could not abide him, he went straight up to Monsieur.

He found the young prince admiring himself in the mirror while applying rouge.

In the corner of the cabinet, upon cushions, M. le Chevalier de Lorraine was stretched out, having just had his long blond hair curled, with which he played as a woman would.

The prince turned at the noise, and, perceiving the count:

— Ah! it is you, Guiche, said he; come hither and tell me the truth.

— Yes, my lord, you know that is my failing.

— Figure to yourself, Guiche, that this wicked chevalier pains me.

The chevalier shrugged his shoulders.

— And how so? asked de Guiche. That is not M. le Chevalier's habit.

— Why, he maintains, continued the prince, he maintains that Mlle Henriette is better as a woman than I am as a man.

— Beware, my lord, said de Guiche, frowning, you asked me for the truth.

— Yes, said Monsieur almost trembling.

— Well! I shall tell it you.

— Do not hasten, Guiche, cried the prince, you have time; look at me attentively and recall Madame well; besides, here is her portrait; take it.

And he held out the miniature, of the finest workmanship. De Guiche took the portrait and considered it long.

— On my faith, said he, here is, my lord, an adorable face.

— But look at me in my turn, look at me, I say, cried the prince, trying to recall to himself the count's attention, wholly absorbed by the portrait.

— In truth, it is marvelous! murmured de Guiche.

— Eh! would one not say, continued Monsieur, that you have never seen that little girl.

— I have seen her, my lord, true, but it is five years ago, and great changes occur between a child of twelve and a young girl of seventeen.

— Finally, your opinion, speak it; come, now!

— My opinion is that the portrait must be flattering, my lord.

— Oh! first of all, yes, said the prince triumphantly, it certainly is; but suppose it is not flattering, and tell me your view.

— My lord, Your Highness is most happy to have so charming a fiancée.

— So be it, that is your opinion of her; but of me?

— My opinion, my lord, is that you are much too handsome for a man.

The Chevalier de Lorraine burst into loud laughter.

Monseigneur understood all that was severe for him in the opinion of the Comte de Guiche.

He frowned.

— I have friends little well-disposed, said he.

De Guiche looked again at the portrait; but after some seconds of contemplation, returning it with effort to Monsieur:

— Decidedly, said he, my lord, I should prefer to contemplate Your Highness ten times than Madame one time more.

Doubtless the chevalier saw something mysterious in these words which remained unintelligible to the prince, for he cried:

— Why, then marry!

Monsieur continued to apply rouge; then, when he had finished, he looked again at the portrait, then mirrored himself in the glass and smiled. Doubtless he was satisfied with the comparison.

— At all events, you are very kind to have come, said he to de Guiche; I feared you would leave without coming to say farewell.

— My lord knows me too well to believe I would commit such an impropriety.

— And then you have something to ask me before leaving Paris?

— Why, Your Highness has guessed right; I have, indeed, a request to present.

— Good! speak.

The Chevalier de Lorraine became all eyes and all ears; it seemed to him that each favor obtained by another was a theft committed against him.

And as de Guiche hesitated:

— Is it money? asked the prince. That would fall marvelously, I am exceedingly rich; M. le Surintendant des Finances had fifty thousand pistoles delivered to me.

— Thanks to Your Highness; but it is not a matter of money.

— And of what is it a matter? Come now.

— Of a warrant for maid of honor.

— Tudieu! Guiche, what a protector you make, said the prince with disdain; will you never speak to me but of wenches?

The Chevalier de Lorraine smiled; he knew that to protect ladies was to displease Monseigneur.

— My lord, said the count, it is not I who directly protect the person of whom I just spoke; it is a friend of mine.

— Ah! that is different; and how is the protégée of your friend named?

— Mlle de La Baume Le Blanc de La Vallière, already maid of honor to the Dowager Madame.

— Fie! a limping girl, said the Chevalier de Lorraine, stretching upon his cushion.

— A limping girl! repeated the prince. Madame would have that before her eyes? My faith, no, that would be too dangerous for her pregnancies.

The Chevalier de Lorraine exploded with laughter.

— Monsieur le Chevalier, said de Guiche, what you do there is not generous; I solicit and you harm me.

— Ah! pardon, Monsieur le Comte, said the Chevalier de Lorraine, uneasy at the tone with which the count had accented his words, such was not my intention, and, in fact, I believe I confound this damsel with another.

— Assuredly, and I affirm to you, I, that you confound.

— Come now, do you care much for it, Guiche? asked the prince.

— Much, my lord.

— Well! granted; but ask no more warrant, there is no place left.

— Ah! cried the chevalier, midday already; that is the hour fixed for departure.

— You dismiss me, Monsieur? asked de Guiche.

— Oh! count, how you maltreat me today! answered the chevalier affectionately.

— For God's sake! count; for God's sake! chevalier, said Monsieur, do not quarrel thus: see you not that it pains me?

— My signature? asked de Guiche.

— Take a warrant in that drawer, and give it me.

De Guiche took the indicated warrant with one hand, and with the other presented to Monsieur a pen quite dipped in ink.

The prince signed.

— There, said he, returning the warrant; but on one condition.

— Which?

— That you make your peace with the chevalier.

— Gladly, said de Guiche.

And he held out his hand to the chevalier with an indifference resembling contempt.

— Go, count, said the chevalier, seeming not at all to remark the count's disdain; go, and bring us back a princess who does not chatter too much with her portrait.

— Yes, depart and make haste… By the way, whom do you take with you?

— Bragelonne and de Wardes.

— Two brave companions.

— Too brave, said the chevalier; try to bring them both back, count.

— Vile heart! murmured de Guiche; he scents evil everywhere and before all.

Then, saluting Monsieur, he went out.

On arriving beneath the vestibule, he raised in the air the fully signed warrant.

Malicorne precipitated himself and received it, all trembling with joy. But, after having received it, de Guiche perceived that he still awaited something.

— Patience, Monsieur, patience, said he to his client; but M. le Chevalier was there and I feared to fail if I asked too much at once. Wait for my return. Adieu!

“Stories of the world, in your language.”