Part 39

— Tell me what rhyme you are seeking, my dear count, said Manicamp. I have an excellent one to match yours, especially if yours is in _ame_.

De Guiche shook his head, and, recognizing a friend, took his arm.

— My dear Manicamp, said he, I am seeking something other than a rhyme.

— What are you seeking?

— And you are going to help me find what I seek, the count continued, you who are an idler, that is to say, a man of ingenious spirit.

— I ready my ingenuity, dear count.

— Here is the matter: I wish to draw near to a house where I have business.

— You must go in the direction of that house, said Manicamp.

— Good. But this house is inhabited by a jealous husband.

— Is he more jealous than the dog Cerberus?

— No, not more, but as much.

— Has he three jaws, like that despairing guardian of the infernal regions? Oh! do not shrug your shoulders, my dear count; I ask this question with perfect reason, seeing that the poets claim that, to soften my Cerberus, the traveler must bring a cake. Now, I who see things from the side of prose, that is to say, of reality, say: 'A cake is very little for three jaws. If your jealous man has three jaws, count, ask for three cakes.'

— Manicamp, for advice like that, I would go seek it from M. Beautru.

— To get better, Monsieur le Comte, said Manicamp with comic seriousness, you would then adopt a clearer formula than the one you have set forth to me.

— Ah! if Raoul were here, said de Guiche, he would understand me.

— I believe it, especially if you said to him: I should greatly like to see Madame up close, but I fear Monsieur, who is jealous.

— Manicamp! cried the count in anger and trying to crush the mocker beneath his gaze.

But the mocker did not appear to feel the slightest emotion.

— What is the matter, my dear count? asked Manicamp.

— How! is this how you blaspheme the most sacred names! cried de Guiche.

— What names?

— Monsieur! Madame! the foremost names of the realm.

— My dear count, you are strangely mistaken, and I did not name to you the foremost names of the realm. I answered you with regard to a jealous husband whom you did not name to me, but who necessarily has a wife; I answered you: To see Madame, draw near to Monsieur.

— Poor jester, said the count smiling, is that what you said?

— Nothing else.

— Very well! then.

— Now, added Manicamp, shall we suppose it is Mme la Duchesse… and M. le Duc… very well, I would say to you: 'Let us draw near to that house, whatever it may be; for it is a tactic which, in no case, can be unfavorable to your love.'

— Ah! Manicamp, a pretext, a good pretext, find me one?

— A pretext, by God! a hundred pretexts, a thousand pretexts. If Malicorne were here, it is he who would already have found you fifty thousand excellent pretexts!

— Who is this Malicorne? said de Guiche, blinking like a man who is searching. It seems to me I know that name…

— If you know him! I should think so; you owe thirty thousand écus to his father.

— Ah! yes; that worthy fellow from Orleans…

— To whom you promised an office with Monsieur; not the jealous husband, the other.

— Well! since your friend Malicorne has so much wit, let him find me a means to be adored by Monsieur, let him find me a pretext to make my peace with him.

— Agreed, I will speak to him of it.

— But who comes there?

— It is the Vicomte de Bragelonne.

— Raoul! Yes, indeed.

And de Guiche walked rapidly toward the young man.

— Is it you, my dear Raoul? said de Guiche.

— Yes, I was looking for you to bid you farewell, dear friend! replied Raoul, pressing the count's hand. Good day, Monsieur Manicamp.

— How! you are leaving, vicomte?

— Yes, I am leaving… A mission from the king.

— Where are you going?

— I am going to London. This very step, I am going to Madame; she is to give me a letter for His Majesty King Charles II.

— You will find her alone, for Monsieur has gone out.

— To go…?

— To go to the bath.

— Then, dear friend, you who are one of Monsieur's gentlemen, charge yourself with making my excuses to him. I would have awaited him to receive his orders, had not my prompt departure been signified to me by M. Fouquet, and on behalf of His Majesty.

Manicamp nudged de Guiche with his elbow.

— There is the pretext, said he.

— Which one?

— M. de Bragelonne's excuses.

— Weak pretext, said de Guiche.

— Excellent, if Monsieur does not bear you ill will; as bad as any other, if Monsieur does bear you ill will.

— You are right, Manicamp; a pretext, whatever it may be, is all I need. And so, good journey, dear Raoul!

And thereupon the two friends embraced.

Five minutes later, Raoul entered Madame's apartments, as Mlle de Montalais had invited him to do.

Madame was still at the table where she had written her letter. Before her burned the pink wax candle that had served her to seal it. Only, in her preoccupation—for Madame appeared deeply preoccupied—she had forgotten to blow out this candle.

Bragelonne was expected: he was announced as soon as he appeared.

Bragelonne was elegance itself: it was impossible to see him once without always remembering him; and not only had Madame seen him once, but, as will be recalled, he was one of the first to have gone to meet her, and he had accompanied her from Le Havre to Paris.

Madame had therefore preserved an excellent memory of Bragelonne.

— Ah! said she, there you are, monsieur; you are going to see my brother, who will be happy to pay to the son a portion of the debt of gratitude he contracted with the father.

— The Comte de La Fère, madame, was amply rewarded for the little he had the happiness to do for the king by the kindnesses the king showed him, and it is I who am to bear him the assurance of the respect, devotion, and gratitude of father and son.

— Do you know my brother, Monsieur le Vicomte?

— No, Your Highness; it is the first time I shall have the happiness to see His Majesty.

— You have no need to be recommended to him. But after all, if you doubt your personal worth, take me boldly as your guarantor, I shall not gainsay you.

— Oh! Your Highness is too good.

— No, Monsieur de Bragelonne. I remember that we traveled together, and that I remarked your great wisdom amid the supreme follies committed, to your right and to your left, by two of the greatest fools in this world, MM. de Guiche and de Buckingham. But let us not speak of them; let us speak of you. Are you going to England to seek an establishment? Excuse my question: it is not curiosity, it is the desire to be of some good to you that dictates it.

— No, madame; I am going to England to fulfill a mission His Majesty was pleased to confide to me, that is all.

— And you count on returning to France?

— As soon as this mission is fulfilled, unless His Majesty King Charles II gives me other orders.

— He will at the least entreat you, I am sure of it, to remain near him as long as possible.

— Then, as I shall not know how to refuse, I shall beforehand beg Your Royal Highness to be so good as to remind the King of France that he has far from him one of his most devoted servants.

— Take care that, when he recalls you, you do not regard his order as an abuse of power.

— I do not understand, Madame.

— The court of France is incomparable, I know it well; but we have some pretty women also at the court of England.

Raoul smiled.

— Oh! said Madame, there is a smile that bodes nothing good for my countrywomen. It is as if you said to them, Monsieur de Bragelonne: 'I come to you, but I leave my heart on the other side of the strait.' Is not that what your smile signified?

— Your Highness has the gift of reading to the very depths of souls; she will therefore understand why now any prolonged stay at the court of England would be a sorrow to me.

— And I need not inquire whether so brave a cavalier is requited?

— Madame, I was brought up with her whom I love, and I believe she has for me the same feelings that I have for her.

— Well! depart quickly, Monsieur de Bragelonne, return quickly, and, upon your return, we shall see two happy beings, for I hope there is no obstacle to your happiness?

— There is a great one, madame.

— Bah! and which?

— The will of the king.

— The will of the king!… The king opposes your marriage?

— Or at least he delays it. I had the count of La Fère ask the king for his consent, and, without absolutely refusing it, he has at least positively said he would make him wait for it.

— Is the person you love then unworthy of you?

— She is worthy of the love of a king, madame.

— I mean: perhaps she is not of a nobility equal to yours?

— She is of excellent family.

— Young, beautiful?

— Seventeen years, and to me beautiful to ravishment!

— Is she in the province or in Paris?

— She is at Fontainebleau, madame.

— At court?

— Yes.

— Do I know her?

— She has the honor to be part of the household of Your Royal Highness.

— Her name? asked the princess with anxiety, if however, she added, quickly correcting herself, her name is not a secret?

— No, madame; my love is pure enough that I make it a secret to no one, and still less to Your Highness, so perfectly good to me. It is Mlle Louise de La Vallière.

Madame could not restrain a cry, in which there was more than astonishment.

— Ah! said she, La Vallière… she who yesterday…

She stopped.

— She who, yesterday, felt indisposed, I believe, she continued.

— Yes, madame, I learned of the accident that befell her only this morning.

— And you saw her before coming here?

— I had the honor to bid her farewell.

— And you say, resumed Madame, making an effort upon herself, that the king has… postponed your marriage with this child?

— Yes, madame, postponed.

— And has he given some reason for this postponement?

— None.

— It is a long time since the Comte de La Fère made him this request?

— More than a month, madame.

— That is strange, said the princess.

And something like a cloud passed over her eyes.

— A month? she repeated.

— About that.

— You are right, Monsieur le Vicomte, said the princess with a smile in which Bragelonne might have remarked some constraint, my brother must not keep you too long over there; depart then quickly, and, in the first letter I write to England, I shall reclaim you in the king's name.

And Madame rose to place her letter in Bragelonne's hands. Raoul understood that his audience was finished; he took the letter, bowed before the princess, and withdrew.

— A month! murmured the princess; should I then have been blind to such a degree, and would he have loved her for a month?

And, as Madame had nothing to do, she set about beginning for her brother the letter whose postscript was to recall Bragelonne.

The Comte de Guiche had, as we have seen, yielded to Manicamp's insistences, and had let himself be drawn by him as far as the stables; where they had their horses saddled; after which, by the little alley whose description we have already given our readers, they advanced to meet Monsieur, who, coming from the bath, was returning all fresh toward the château, having upon his face a woman's veil, so that the already warm sun might not tan his complexion.

Monsieur was in one of those fits of good humor which sometimes inspired in him admiration of his own beauty. He had been able, in the water, to compare the whiteness of his body to that of his courtiers' bodies, and, thanks to the care His Royal Highness took of himself, none had been able, not even the Chevalier de Lorraine, to sustain the comparison.

Monsieur had moreover swum with a certain success, and all his nerves, tempered in a wise measure by that salutary immersion in the cool water, held his body and his spirit in a happy equilibrium.

Thus, at the sight of de Guiche, who came at a little gallop toward him upon a magnificent white horse, the prince could not restrain a joyous exclamation.

— It seems to me this goes well, said Manicamp, who thought to read this benevolence upon the physiognomy of His Royal Highness.

— Ah! good day, Guiche, good day, my poor Guiche, cried the prince.

— Salutation to Monseigneur! replied de Guiche, encouraged by the tone of Philippe's voice; health, joy, happiness, and prosperity to Your Highness!

— Be welcome, Guiche, and take my right, but hold your horse in bridle, for I wish to return at a walk beneath these cool vaults.

— At your orders, monseigneur.

And de Guiche ranged himself to the right of the prince as he had just been invited to do.

— Come, my dear de Guiche, said the prince, come, give me a little news of that de Guiche I once knew and who paid court to my wife?

De Guiche blushed to the whites of his eyes, while Monsieur burst out laughing as if he had made the most witty jest in the world.

The few privileged ones who surrounded Monsieur thought they ought to imitate him, though they had not heard his words, and they uttered a noisy burst of laughter which caught at the first, traversed the cortege, and was extinguished only at the last. De Guiche, all reddening as he was, nevertheless kept a good countenance: Manicamp was looking at him.

— Ah! monseigneur, replied de Guiche, be charitable to a wretch; do not immolate me to M. le Chevalier de Lorraine!

— How so?

— If he hears you raillery me, he will go beyond Your Highness and raillery me without pity.

— For your love of the princess?

— Oh! monseigneur, for pity's sake!

— Come, come, de Guiche, admit that you made eyes at Madame.

— Never shall I admit such a thing, monseigneur.

— Out of respect for me? Well! I release you from respect, de Guiche. Admit it, as if it were a matter of Mme de Chalais, or of Mlle de La Vallière.

Then, interrupting himself:

— Come, good! said he, beginning to laugh again, see how I play with a two-edged sword. I strike at you and I strike at my brother, Chalais and La Vallière, your betrothed and his future one.

— In truth, monseigneur, said the count, you are of an adorable humor today.

— My faith, yes! I feel well, and then the sight of you pleases me.

— Thank you, monseigneur.

— You bore me a grudge then?

— I, monseigneur?

— Yes.

— And for what, good heavens?

— For my having interrupted your sarabands and your Spanish airs.

— Oh! Your Highness!

— Come, do not deny it. You left the princess's apartments that day with furious eyes; that brought you ill fortune, my dear, and you danced yesterday's ballet in a pitiable fashion. Do not sulk, de Guiche; it harms you in that you take on the air of a bear. If the princess looked at you yesterday, I am sure of one thing…

— Which one, monseigneur? Your Highness frightens me.

— She will have quite renounced you.

And the prince laughed the more.

'Decidedly,' thought Manicamp, 'rank changes nothing, and they are all alike.'

The prince continued.

— At last, here you are returned; there is hope the chevalier may become agreeable again.

— How so, monseigneur, and by what miracle can I have this influence upon M. de Lorraine?

— It is quite simple, he is jealous of you.

— Ah bah! truly?

— As I tell you.

— He does me too much honor.

— You understand, when you are there, he caresses me; when you are gone, he martyrizes me. I reign by seesaw. And then you do not know the idea that came to me?

— I do not guess it, monseigneur.

— Well! when you were in exile, for you were exiled, my poor Guiche…

— Pardieu! monseigneur, whose fault was it? said de Guiche, affecting a surly air.

— Oh! it is certainly not mine, dear count, replied His Royal Highness. I did not ask the king to exile you, faith of a prince!

— Not you, monseigneur, I know it well; but…

— But Madame? Oh! as for that, I do not say no. What the devil did you do to Madame, then?

— In truth, monseigneur…

— Women have their rancor, I know it well, and mine is not exempt from that failing. But, if she had you exiled, she, I do not bear you ill will, I.

— Then, monseigneur, said de Guiche, I am but half unhappy.

Manicamp, who came behind de Guiche and who lost not a word of what the prince said, bent his shoulders down upon his horse's neck to hide the laugh he could not repress.

— Besides, your exile put a project into my head.

— Good!

— When the chevalier, no longer seeing you there and sure to reign alone, ill-treated me, seeing, contrary to that wicked boy, my wife so amiable and so good to me who neglect her, I had the idea to make myself a model husband, a rarity, a curiosity of court; I had the idea to love my wife.

De Guiche looked at the prince with an air of stupefaction that had nothing feigned about it.

— Oh! stammered de Guiche, trembling, that idea, monseigneur, it did not come to you seriously?

— My faith, yes! I have property my brother gave me at the moment of my marriage; she has money, she, and much, since she draws it at once from her brother and her brother-in-law, from England and from France. Well! we should have left the court. I should have retired to the château of Villers-Cotterets, which is of my appanage, in the midst of a forest, in which we should have spun the perfect love at the same spots where my grandfather Henri IV did with the beautiful Gabrielle. What say you to that idea, de Guiche?

— I say it is enough to make one shudder, monseigneur, replied de Guiche, who was really shuddering.

— Ah! I see you would not support being exiled a second time.

— I, monseigneur?

— I shall not then take you with us as I had at first intended.

— How, with you, monseigneur?

— Yes, if by chance the idea took me again to sulk at court.

— Oh! monseigneur, never mind that, I would follow Your Highness to the end of the world.

— Clumsy fellow that you are! grumbled Manicamp, pushing his horse against de Guiche, so as to unhorse him.

Then, passing near him as if he were not master of his horse:

— But think of what you are saying, he slipped to him in a low voice.

— Then, said the prince, it is agreed; since you are so devoted to me, I take you with me.

— Anywhere, monseigneur, anywhere, replied de Guiche joyfully; anywhere, this very instant. Are you ready?

And de Guiche, laughing, gave his horse the rein again, which made two bounds forward.

— One moment, one moment, said the prince; let us pass by the château.

— To do what?

— To take my wife, parbleu!

— How? asked de Guiche.

— Doubtless, since I tell you it is a project of conjugal love; I must needs take my wife.

— Then, monseigneur, replied the count, I am desolated, but no de Guiche for you.

— Bah!

— Yes. Why do you take Madame?

— Why, because I perceive that I love her.

De Guiche paled slightly, while trying nevertheless to preserve his apparent gaiety.

— If you love Madame, monseigneur, said he, that love should suffice you, and you have no further need of your friends.

— Not bad, not bad, murmured Manicamp.

— Come, there is the fear of Madame taking hold of you again, replied the prince.

— Listen, monseigneur, I am paid for it; a woman who had me exiled.

— Oh! my God! what an ugly character you have, de Guiche; how resentful you are, my friend.

— I should like to see you in my place, you, monseigneur.

— Decidedly, it is because of that you danced so badly yesterday; you wished to revenge yourself by making Madame do false steps; ah! de Guiche, this is mean, and I shall tell it to Madame.

— Oh! you may tell her all you wish, monseigneur. Her Highness will not hate me more than she already does.

— There! there! you exaggerate, for fifteen poor days of forced country life that she imposed upon you.

— Monseigneur, fifteen days are fifteen days, and, when one spends them in boredom, fifteen days are an eternity.

— So that you will not forgive her?

— Never.

— Come, come, de Guiche, be a better fellow, I wish to make your peace with her; you will recognize, in frequenting her, that she has no malice and is full of wit.

— Monseigneur…

— You will see that she knows how to receive like a princess and laugh like a bourgeoise; you will see that she makes, when she wishes, the hours flow like minutes. De Guiche, my friend, you must come back around concerning my wife.

'Decidedly,' said Manicamp to himself, 'here is a husband to whom the name of his wife will bring misfortune, and the late King Candaules was a veritable tiger beside monseigneur.'

— In short, added the prince, you will come back around concerning my wife, de Guiche; I guarantee it to you. Only, I must show you the way. She is not commonplace, and whoever will does not attain her heart.

— Monseigneur…

— No resistance, de Guiche, or we shall quarrel, replied the prince.

— But since he wishes it, murmured Manicamp in de Guiche's ear, satisfy him then!

— Monseigneur, said the count, I shall obey.

— And to begin, resumed Monseigneur, there is play this evening at Madame's; you will dine with me and I shall conduct you to her.

— Oh! for that, monseigneur, objected de Guiche, you will permit me to resist.

— Again! but this is rebellion.

— Madame received me too ill yesterday before all the world.

— Truly! said the prince, laughing.

— To such a point that she did not even reply when I spoke to her; it may be good to have no self-esteem, but too little is too little, as they say.

— Count, after dinner, you will go dress at your lodging and come take me again, I shall await you.

— Since Your Highness absolutely commands…

— Absolutely.

— He will not budge from it, said Manicamp, and these sorts of things are those that cling most obstinately to the heads of husbands. Ah! why did not M. Molière hear this one, he would have put him in verse.

The prince and his court, thus conversing, re-entered the coolest apartments of the château.

— By the way, said de Guiche on the threshold of the door, I had a commission for Your Royal Highness.

— Deliver your commission.

— M. de Bragelonne has departed for London with an order from the king, and he charged me with all his respects for Monseigneur.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”