Part 22

The horses had been embarked; they were being hoisted from the skiff onto the deck of the vessel in specially made baskets, padded in such a way that their limbs, even in the most violent fits of terror or impatience, never left the soft support of the sides, and their coats were not even ruffled.

Eight of these baskets placed side by side filled the hold. We know that, during short crossings, trembling horses eat nothing and shiver in the presence of the finest foods they might have coveted on land.

Little by little the duke's entire crew was transported aboard the yacht, and then his people came back to announce to him that all was ready, and that, whenever he wished to embark with the French gentleman, they awaited only them.

For no one supposed that the French gentleman could have to settle with my lord duke anything other than matters of friendly account.

Buckingham had his answer sent to the yacht's master that he should hold himself ready, but that the sea was fair, that the day promised a magnificent sunset, and he meant to embark only at night and to make use of the evening for a walk along the shore.

Besides, he added that, being in excellent company, he was in no hurry whatsoever to embark.

In saying this, he pointed out to those around him the magnificent spectacle of the sky purpled at the horizon, and an amphitheater of flaky clouds that rose from the disk of the sun to the zenith, assuming the forms of a mountain chain with summits piled one upon another.

All this amphitheater was tinted at its base with a kind of bloody moss, melting into opal and mother-of-pearl shades as the eye climbed from base to summit. The sea, for its part, took on the same reflection, and upon every crest of a blue wave danced a luminous point like a ruby exposed to the gleam of a blade.

A mild evening, salty perfumes dear to dreaming imaginations, an east wind thick and blowing in harmonious gusts, then in the distance the yacht standing out in black with its open rigging against the purpled background of the sky, and here and there on the horizon lateen sails curved beneath the azure like the wing of a gull diving—the spectacle, indeed, was well worth admiring. The crowd of curious onlookers followed the gilded lackeys, among whom, seeing the steward and the secretary, they believed they saw the master and his friend.

As for Buckingham, simply clad in a gray satin jacket and a little violet velvet doublet, hat over his eyes, without orders or embroidery, he was no more noticed than de Wardes, dressed in black like a lawyer.

The duke's people had received orders to keep a skiff ready at the mole and to watch over their master's embarkation, without coming to him before he or his friend should call.

"Whatever they might see," he had added, emphasizing these words so that they should be understood.

After a few steps upon the beach:

"I believe, sir," said Buckingham to de Wardes, "I believe we shall have to bid each other farewell. You see, the tide is coming in; in ten minutes it will have so soaked the sand where we walk that we shall be unable to feel the ground."

"My lord, I am at your commands; but..."

"But we are still on the king's territory, are we not?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well then! come; there is, as you see, a kind of island surrounded by a great circular pool; the pool is growing and the island disappearing minute by minute. That island belongs well to God, for it lies between two seas and the king has it not upon his maps. Do you see it?"

"I see it. We can scarcely reach it now without wetting our feet."

"Yes; but note that it forms a rather high eminence, and that the sea rises on either side sparing its crest. It follows that we shall be admirably placed upon that little stage. What think you?"

"I shall be well wherever my sword has the honor of meeting yours, my lord."

"Well then! let us go. I am desolated to make you wet your feet, Monsieur de Wardes; but it is necessary, I believe, that you be able to say to the king: 'Sire, I did not fight upon Your Majesty's land.' That is perhaps a trifle too subtle, but since Port-Royal you have been swimming in subtleties. Oh! let us not complain of it, it gives you a most charming wit, and one that belongs to none but you others. If you will be so good, let us hasten, Monsieur de Wardes, for here is the sea rising and the night coming on."

"If I walked no faster, my lord, it was so as not to pass before Your Grace. Are you upon dry footing, Monsieur le Duc?"

"Yes, thus far. Look yonder: there are my rogues who fear to see us drown and who come cruising with the boat. See how they dance upon the crests of the waves, it is curious; but it gives me the seasickness. Would you permit me to turn my back upon them?"

"You will remark that, in turning your back upon them, you will have the sun in your face, my lord."

"Oh! it is weak enough at this hour and will soon have disappeared; trouble yourself not about that."

"As you wish, my lord; what I said of it was out of delicacy."

"I know it, Monsieur de Wardes, and I appreciate your observation. Will you remove our doublets?"

"Decide, my lord."

"It is more convenient."

"Then I am quite ready."

"Tell me, frankly, Monsieur de Wardes, if you feel unwell upon the wet sand, or if you believe yourself still a little too much upon French territory? We shall fight in England or upon my yacht."

"We are very well here, my lord; only I shall have the honor of observing to you that, as the sea rises, we shall scarcely have the time..."

Buckingham made a sign of assent, removed his doublet and threw it upon the sand.

De Wardes did likewise.

The two bodies, white as two phantoms to those who watched from the shore, stood out against the shadow of a violet red descending from the sky.

"Faith! Monsieur le Duc, we can scarcely break ground," said de Wardes. "Do you feel how our feet hold in the sand?"

"I am sunk in it to the ankle," said Buckingham, "not to count that here is the water gaining upon us."

"It has already gained upon me... Whenever you please, Monsieur le Duc." De Wardes put his sword in hand.

The duke imitated him.

"Monsieur de Wardes," then said Buckingham, "one last word, if you please... I fight against you because I do not like you, because you have torn my heart in railing at a certain passion that I have, that I avow at this moment, and for which I should be very happy to die. You are a wicked man, Monsieur de Wardes, and I mean to make every effort to kill you; for, I feel it, if you do not die of this thrust, you will do much harm to my friends in the future. That is what I had to say to you, Monsieur de Wardes."

And Buckingham bowed.

"And I, my lord, here is what I have to answer you: I did not hate you; but, now that you have guessed me, I hate you, and shall do all I can to kill you."

And de Wardes bowed to Buckingham.

At the same instant, the steels crossed; two flashes joined in the night.

The swords sought each other, guessed each other, touched.

Both were skilled fencers; the first passes had no result.

The night had advanced rapidly; the night was so dark that one attacked and defended by instinct.

Suddenly de Wardes felt his blade stopped; he had just pierced Buckingham's shoulder.

The duke's sword dropped with his arm.

"Oh!" he uttered.

"Touched, is it not, my lord?" said de Wardes, retreating two paces.

"Yes, sir, but lightly."

"However, you have dropped your guard."

"It is the first effect of the cold of the steel, but I am recovered. Let us begin again, if you please, sir."

And, disengaging with a sinister grating of blade, the duke tore the marquis's chest.

"Touched also," said he.

"No," said de Wardes, remaining firm in his place.

"Pardon; but, seeing your shirt all red..." said Buckingham.

"Then," said de Wardes furiously, "then... to you!"

And, lunging to the full, he pierced Buckingham's forearm. The sword passed between the two bones.

Buckingham felt his right arm paralyzed; he advanced his left arm, seized his sword, ready to fall from his inert hand, and before de Wardes could recover his guard, he ran him through the chest.

De Wardes staggered, his knees bent, and, leaving his sword still engaged in the duke's arm, he fell into the water, which grew red with a more real reflection than that sent it by the clouds.

De Wardes was not dead. He felt the frightful danger that threatened him: the sea was rising.

The duke felt the danger too. With an effort and a cry of pain, he tore out the blade left in his arm; then, turning toward de Wardes:

"Are you dead, marquis?" said he.

"No," replied de Wardes with a voice stifled by the blood that rose from his lungs to his throat, "but little lacking."

"Well, what is to be done? Come, can you walk?"

Buckingham lifted him upon one knee.

"Impossible," said he.

Then, falling back:

"Call your people," said he, "or I drown."

"Ho there!" cried Buckingham; "ho there! from the boat! row briskly, row!"

The boat put to the oars with force.

But the sea rose faster than the boat advanced.

Buckingham saw de Wardes about to be covered by a wave: with his left arm, sound and unwounded, he made a girdle of it about him and lifted him.

The wave rose to mid-body, but could not shake him.

But scarce had he taken ten steps when a second wave, coming higher, more threatening, more furious than the first, struck him at the height of the chest, overthrew him, buried him.

Then, the backwash carrying him off, it left for an instant uncovered the duke and de Wardes lying upon the sand.

De Wardes had swooned.

At that moment four of the duke's sailors, who understood the danger, threw themselves into the sea and in a second were beside the duke.

Their terror was great when they saw their master covering himself with blood as the water wherewith he was soaked flowed toward the knees and feet.

They would have carried him off.

"No, no!" said the duke; "to land! to land, the marquis!"

"Death! death to the Frenchman!" muttered the Englishmen darkly.

"Wretched rogues!" cried the duke, rising with a superb gesture that sprinkled them with blood, "obey. Monsieur de Wardes to land, Monsieur de Wardes in safety before all things, or I have you hanged!"

The boat had drawn near during this time. The secretary and the steward in their turn leaped into the sea and approached the marquis. He gave no further sign of life.

"I commend this man to you upon your heads," said the duke. "To the shore! Monsieur de Wardes to the shore!"

They took him in their arms and bore him to the dry sand.

Some curious onlookers and five or six fishermen had grouped upon the shore, attracted by the singular spectacle of two men fighting with water up to their knees.

The fishermen, seeing a group of men coming toward them bearing a wounded man, entered in their turn up to mid-leg into the sea. The Englishmen handed over the wounded man at the moment when he began to reopen his eyes.

The salt water of the sea and the fine sand had introduced themselves into his wounds and caused him ineffable sufferings.

The duke's secretary drew from his pocket a full purse and handed it to him who seemed the most considerable among the bystanders.

"From my master, my lord duke of Buckingham," said he, "that every imaginable care be taken of Monsieur le Marquis de Wardes."

And he returned, followed by his own, to the skiff which Buckingham had regained with great difficulty, but only when he had seen de Wardes out of danger.

The sea was already high; the embroidered clothes and silk sashes were drowned. Many hats were carried off by the waves.

As for the clothes of my lord duke and those of de Wardes, the tide had borne them toward the shore.

They wrapped de Wardes in the duke's habit, believing it to be his own, and carried him in their arms toward the town.

Chapter CIV — Triple Love

Since Buckingham's departure, de Guiche had fancied that the earth belonged to him without rival.

Monsieur, who no longer had the slightest subject for jealousy and who, besides, let himself be monopolized by the Chevalier de Lorraine, granted in his household as much liberty as the most exacting could desire.

For his part, the king, who had taken a taste for Madame's society, imagined pleasure upon pleasure to brighten the stay in Paris, so that not a day passed without a festival at the Palais-Royal or a reception at Monsieur's.

The king was having Fontainebleau prepared to receive the court, and everyone busied himself to be of the journey. Madame led the most occupied of lives. Her voice, her pen did not rest a moment.

Conversations with de Guiche were taking by degrees the interest which none can mistake for the preludes of great passions.

When eyes languish over a discussion of the colors of stuffs, when one spends an hour analyzing the merits and the perfume of a sachet or a flower, there are in this kind of conversation words that all may hear, but there are gestures or sighs that all cannot see.

When Madame had conversed well with Monsieur de Guiche, she conversed with the king, who visited her regularly each day. They played, they made verses, they chose devices and emblems; that spring was not only the spring of nature, it was the youth of a whole people of which that court formed the head.

The king was handsome, young, more gallant than anyone. He loved amorously all women, even the queen his wife.

Only the great king was the most timid or the most reserved of his kingdom, so long as he had not avowed his feelings to himself.

This timidity kept him within the bounds of simple politeness, and no woman could boast of having preference over another.

One might foresee that the day he declared himself would be the dawn of a new sovereignty; but he did not declare himself. Monsieur de Guiche profited by it to be the king of all the amorous court.

He had been said to be on the best of terms with Mlle de Montalais, he had been said assiduous near Mlle de Châtillon; now he was not even civil with any woman of the court. He had eyes, ears, for but one alone.

Thus he was taking insensibly his place in Monsieur's household, who loved him and kept him as much as possible in his house.

Naturally wild, he kept too much apart before Madame's arrival; once Madame had arrived, he no longer kept apart enough.

Which, remarked by everyone, was particularly so by the evil genius of the house, the Chevalier de Lorraine, to whom Monsieur testified a lively attachment because he had a cheerful humor, even in his spitefulness, and never lacked ideas to employ the time.

The Chevalier de Lorraine, we say, seeing that de Guiche threatened to supplant him, had recourse to the great means. He disappeared, leaving Monsieur quite at a loss.

The first day of his disappearance, Monsieur scarce sought him at all, for de Guiche was there, and, save the interviews with Madame, he bravely devoted the hours of day and night to the prince.

But the second day, Monsieur, finding no one at hand, asked where the chevalier was.

He was answered that they did not know.

De Guiche, after spending his morning in choosing embroideries and fringes with Madame, came to console the prince. But, after dinner, there were yet tulips and amethysts to appraise; de Guiche returned to Madame's cabinet.

Monsieur remained alone; it was the hour of his toilet: he found himself the most unhappy of men and asked again if there were news of the chevalier.

"No one knows where to find Monsieur le Chevalier," was the answer rendered to the prince.

Monsieur, knowing no longer where to carry his boredom, went in his dressing gown and nightcap to Madame's.

There was a great circle of people who laughed and whispered in every corner: here a group of women around a man and stifled bursts; there Manicamp and Malicorne pillaged by Montalais, Mlle de Tonnay-Charente and two other laughers.

Farther off, Madame, seated upon cushions, and de Guiche, kneeling near her, scattering a handful of pearls and stones in which the fine and white finger of the princess designated those that pleased her most.

In another corner, a guitar player who hummed Spanish seguidillas which Madame had raved over since she heard them sung by the young queen with a certain melancholy; only what the Spaniard had sung with tears upon her lids, the Englishwoman was crooning with a smile that showed her mother-of-pearl teeth.

This cabinet, thus inhabited, presented the most smiling image of pleasure.

Upon entering, Monsieur was struck to see so many people diverting themselves without him. He was so jealous of it that he could not help saying like a child:

"What! you amuse yourselves here, and I am bored all alone!"

His voice was like the thunderclap that interrupts the warbling of birds beneath the foliage; a great silence fell.

De Guiche was on his feet in an instant.

Malicorne made himself small behind Montalais's skirts.

Manicamp drew himself up and took his grand ceremonial airs.

The guitarrero thrust his guitar under a table and pulled the carpet to hide it from the prince's eyes.

Madame alone did not move, and, smiling at her husband, answered him:

"Is it not the hour of your toilet?"

"Which one chooses to divert oneself," grumbled the prince.

This untoward word was the signal of rout: the women fled like a flight of frightened birds; the guitar player vanished like a shadow; Malicorne, ever protected by Montalais, who widened her gown, slipped behind a tapestry. As for Manicamp, he came to de Guiche's aid, who, naturally, remained near Madame, and both bravely sustained the shock with the princess. The count was too happy to bear the husband a grudge; but Monsieur bore his wife one.

He needed a motive for quarrel; he sought it, and the precipitate departure of that crowd, so joyful before his arrival and so troubled by his presence, served him as pretext.

"Why then take flight at my aspect?" said he in a rough tone.

Madame replied coldly that, whenever the master appeared, the family kept apart out of respect.

And, in saying these words, she made so droll and pleasant a face that de Guiche and Manicamp could not restrain themselves. They burst out laughing; madame imitated them; the fit seized Monsieur himself, who was forced to sit down, because, in laughing, he lost too much of his gravity.

At last he ceased, but his anger was increased. He was yet more furious at having let himself laugh than he had been at seeing the others laugh.

He looked at Manicamp with big eyes, not daring to show his anger at the Comte de Guiche.

But, at a sign he made with too much spite, Manicamp and de Guiche went out.

So that Madame, left alone, began to pick up her pearls sadly, laughed no more at all, and spoke even less.

"I am very glad to see," said the duke, "that I am treated as a stranger in your house, madame."

And he went out exasperated. On the way, he met Montalais, who kept watch in the antechamber.

"It is fine coming to see you," said he, "but at the door."

Montalais made the deepest reverence.

"I do not well understand," said she, "what Your Royal Highness does me the honor to say."

"I say, mademoiselle, that when you all laugh together, in Madame's apartment, ill comes he who does not remain outside."

"Your Royal Highness does not think and speak thus for herself, doubtless?"

"On the contrary, mademoiselle, it is for myself I speak, it is of myself I think. Certes, I have no cause to applaud the receptions that are made me here. How now! for a day that there is at Madame's, at mine, music and assembly, for a day that I count upon diverting myself a little in my turn, one draws away!... Come now! did one fear to see me, that everyone took flight at sight of me?... One does wrong, then, when I am absent?..."

"But," replied Montalais, "one does not do today, my lord, anything other than one does the other days."

"What! every day you laugh like that!"

"Why, yes, my lord."

"Every day, those are groups like those I have just seen?"

"Exactly alike, my lord."

"And finally every day one scrapes the gut?"

"My lord, the guitar is of today; but, when we have no guitar, we have violins and flutes; women are bored without music."

"Plague! and men?"

"What men, my lord?"

"Monsieur de Guiche, Monsieur de Manicamp and the others."

"All of Monseigneur's household."

"Yes, yes, you are right, mademoiselle."

And the prince re-entered his apartments: he was all dreamy. He threw himself into the deepest of his armchairs, without looking at himself in the mirror.

"Where can the chevalier be?" said he.

There was a servant near the prince.

His question was heard.

"One does not know, my lord."

"That answer again!... The first who answers me: 'I do not know', I dismiss him."

Everyone, at this word, fled Monsieur's as they had fled Madame's.

Then the prince fell into an unutterable rage. He gave a kick to a writing desk, which rolled upon the parquet, broken in thirty pieces.

Then, with the greatest coolness, he went to the galleries, and overturned one upon another an enamel vase, a porphyry ewer and a bronze candelabrum. The whole made a frightful crash. Everyone appeared at the doors.

"What does Monseigneur wish?" ventured timidly to say the captain of the guards.

"I am giving myself music," replied Monseigneur, gnashing his teeth.

The captain of the guards sent for His Royal Highness's physician.

But before the physician, arrived Malicorne, who said to the prince:

"Monseigneur, Monsieur le Chevalier de Lorraine follows me."

The duke looked at Malicorne and smiled at him.

The chevalier entered indeed.

Chapter CV — The Jealousy of M. de Lorraine

The Duc d'Orléans uttered a cry of satisfaction at sight of the Chevalier de Lorraine.

"Ah! it is fortunate," said he, "by what chance do we see you? Were you not disappeared, as was said?"

"Why, yes, monseigneur."

"A caprice?"

"A caprice! I, have caprices with Your Highness? Respect..."

"Leave respect aside, which you fail in every day. I absolve you. Why had you gone?"

"Because I was perfectly useless to Monseigneur."

"Explain yourself?"

“Stories of the world, in your language.”