Part 13

— What agitation, and what confidence at once, murmured the count; Raoul's whole soul is in that letter; he forgets the Count of La Fère there, and speaks of his respect for Louise! He warns me for my sake, he entreats me for his own. Ah! continued De Guiche with a threatening gesture, you meddle in my affairs, Monsieur de Wardes? Well! I shall occupy myself with yours. As for you, my poor Raoul, your heart leaves me a trust; I shall watch over it, fear nothing.

This promise made, De Guiche sent word to Malicorne to call upon him without delay, if possible.

Malicorne obeyed the summons with a liveliness that was the first result of his conversation with Montalais.

The more De Guiche, who thought himself safe, questioned Malicorne, the more the latter, who worked in the shadows, divined his interrogator.

It followed that, after a quarter of an hour's conversation, during which De Guiche believed he had discovered the whole truth about La Vallière and the king, he learned absolutely nothing beyond what he had seen with his own eyes; while Malicorne learned or guessed, as one pleases, that Raoul was distrustful from afar and that De Guiche was going to watch over the garden of the Hesperides.

Malicorne agreed to be the dragon.

De Guiche believed he had done all for his friend and thought no more of anything but himself.

The next evening, the return of De Wardes was announced, and his first appearance at court.

After his visit, the convalescent was to present himself to Monsieur.

De Guiche went to Monsieur's before the hour.

Chapter CLI — How De Wardes Was Received at Court

Monsieur had welcomed De Wardes with that marked favor which the refreshment of the mind counsels to every light character for the novelty that arrives.

De Wardes, whom indeed one had not seen for a month, was fresh fruit. To caress him was, first of all, an infidelity to the old favorites, and an infidelity always has its charm; it was, besides, an amends to make to him, to him. Monsieur therefore treated him with the utmost favor.

Monsieur le Chevalier de Lorraine, who greatly feared this rival, but who respected that second nature, in all things like his own, except for more courage, Monsieur le Chevalier de Lorraine bestowed upon De Wardes caresses even softer than those Monsieur had given.

De Guiche was there, as we have said, but kept somewhat apart, patiently waiting until all those embraces were ended.

De Wardes, while speaking to the others, and even to Monsieur, had not lost sight of De Guiche; his instinct told him he was there for him.

He therefore went to De Guiche as soon as he had done with the others.

They exchanged the most courteous compliments; after which, De Wardes returned to Monsieur and the other gentlemen.

Amid all these congratulations on his good return, Madame was announced.

Madame had learned of De Wardes's arrival. She knew all the details of his journey and his duel with Buckingham. She was not sorry to be present at the first words that were to be spoken by one whom she knew to be her enemy.

She had two or three ladies of honor with her.

De Wardes made the most gracious salutations to Madame, and announced at once, to open hostilities, that he was ready to give news of Mr. de Buckingham to his friends.

It was a direct reply to the coldness with which Madame had received him.

The attack was sharp; Madame felt the blow without seeming to have received it. She rapidly cast her eyes upon Monsieur and upon De Guiche.

Monsieur blushed, De Guiche turned pale.

Madame alone did not change countenance; but, understanding how much this enemy might cause her displeasure in the eyes of the two persons who listened to her, she leaned smiling toward the traveler.

The traveler was speaking of something else.

Madame was brave, even imprudent: any retreat threw her forward. After the first tightening of the heart, she returned to the fire.

— Did you suffer much from your wounds, Monsieur de Wardes? she asked; for we have learned that you had the ill fortune to be wounded.

It was De Wardes's turn to start; he pinched his lips.

— No, madame, said he, almost not at all.

— And yet, in that horrible heat...

— The sea air is fresh, madame, and then I had a consolation.

— Oh! so much the better!... What was it?

— That of knowing my adversary suffered more than I.

— Ah! he was wounded more grievously than you? I was ignorant of that, said the princess with complete indifference.

— Oh! madame, you are mistaken, or rather you pretend to mistake my words. I do not say his body suffered more than mine; but his heart was struck.

De Guiche understood where the struggle tended; he ventured a sign to Madame; that sign besought her to abandon the field.

But she, without answering De Guiche, without seeming to see him, and ever smiling:

— Why! she asked, had Monsieur de Buckingham then been touched in the heart? I did not believe, for my part, until now, that a wound to the heart could be healed.

— Alas! madame, replied De Wardes gracefully, women all believe that, and it is what gives them, over us, the superiority of confidence.

— My dear, you misunderstand, said the prince impatiently. Monsieur de Wardes means that the Duke of Buckingham had been touched in the heart by something other than a sword.

— Ah! well! well! cried Madame. Ah! it is a jest of Monsieur de Wardes; very good; only I should like to know if Monsieur de Buckingham would relish that jest. Truly, it is a great pity he is not here, Monsieur de Wardes.

A flash passed through the young man's eyes.

— Oh! said he, teeth clenched, I should wish it too, I.

De Guiche did not move.

Madame seemed to wait for him to come to her aid.

Monsieur hesitated.

The Chevalier de Lorraine stepped forward and took the word.

— Madame, said he, De Wardes knows well that, for a Buckingham, to be touched in the heart is no new thing, and that what he has said has been seen before.

— Instead of one ally, two enemies, murmured Madame, two leagued enemies, relentless!

And she changed the conversation.

To change the conversation is, as is known, a right of princes, which etiquette ordains be respected.

The rest of the interview was therefore moderate; the principal actors had finished their roles.

Madame withdrew early, and Monsieur, who wished to question her, gave her his hand.

The Chevalier too greatly feared that good understanding might be established between the two spouses to leave them tranquilly together.

He therefore made his way toward Monsieur's apartment to surprise him on his return, and destroy with three words all the good impressions Madame might have sown in his heart. De Guiche took a step toward De Wardes, whom many people surrounded.

He thus indicated the desire to speak with him. De Wardes made him, with eyes and head, a sign that he understood.

That sign, for strangers, had nothing but what was friendly.

Then De Guiche could turn and wait.

He did not wait long. De Wardes, freed from his interlocutors, approached De Guiche, and both, after a new salute, began to walk side by side.

— You have made a good return, my dear De Wardes? said the count.

— Excellent, as you see.

— And your spirits are still very gay?

— More than ever.

— That is a great happiness.

— What would you have! everything is so buffoonish in this world, everything is so grotesque around us!

— You are right.

— Ah! you are of my opinion, then?

— Parbleu! And do you bring us news from over there?

— No, faith! I come to seek some here.

— Speak. You saw people at Boulogne, though, one of our friends, and it is not so long ago.

— People... of... of our friends?...

— Your memory is short.

— Ah! true: Bragelonne?

— Exactly.

— Who was going on a mission to King Charles?

— That is it. Well! did he not tell you, or did you not tell him?...

— I hardly know what I told him, I confess to you, but what I did not tell him, I know.

De Wardes was subtlety itself. He felt perfectly, from De Guiche's attitude, an attitude full of coldness, of dignity, that the conversation was taking a bad turn. He resolved to let himself go with the conversation and to keep upon his guard.

— What, pray, is this thing you did not tell him? asked De Guiche.

— Why, the thing concerning La Vallière.

— La Vallière... What is that? and what is this thing so strange that you knew it over there, you, while Bragelonne, who was here, did not know it, he?

— Is it seriously that you ask me this question?

— More serious than can be.

— What! you, a man of court, you, living with Madame, you, the commensal of the house, you, the friend of Monsieur, you, the favorite of our fair princess?

De Guiche blushed with anger.

— Of what princess do you speak? he asked.

— But I know only one, my dear. I speak of Madame. Have you another princess in your heart? Come now.

De Guiche was about to launch forth; but he saw the feint.

A quarrel was imminent between the two young men. De Wardes wanted the quarrel only in Madame's name, while De Guiche accepted it only in La Vallière's name. From that moment, it was a game of feints, and which was to last until one of them was touched.

De Guiche therefore recovered all his coolness.

— There is not the least question of Madame in all this, my dear De Wardes, said De Guiche, but of what you were saying there, this very instant.

— And what was I saying?

— That you had hidden certain things from Bragelonne.

— Which you know as well as I, replied De Wardes.

— No, upon my honor!

— Come now!

— If you tell me, I shall know; but not otherwise, I swear to you!

— How! I arrive from over there, from sixty leagues; you have not stirred from here; you saw with your own eyes, you, what rumor brought me over there, she, and I hear you seriously tell me you do not know? Oh! count, you are not charitable.

— Be it as you please, De Wardes; but, I repeat to you, I know nothing.

— You play the discreet, that is prudent.

— Thus, you will tell me nothing, no more to me than to Bragelonne?

— You turn a deaf ear, I am quite convinced that Madame would not be so mistress of herself as you.

"Ah! double hypocrite," murmured De Guiche, "there you are back on your ground."

— Well then! continued De Wardes, since it is so difficult for us to understand each other on La Vallière and Bragelonne, let us speak of your personal affairs.

— But, said De Guiche, I have no personal affairs, I. You said nothing of me, I suppose, to Bragelonne, that you cannot repeat to me, I?

— No. But, do you understand, De Guiche? it is that as much as I am ignorant of certain things, so much am I well-versed in others. If it were a question, for example, of speaking to you of Monsieur de Buckingham's relations in Paris, as I made the voyage with the duke, I could tell you the most interesting things. Shall I tell them to you?

De Guiche passed his hand over his brow, moist with sweat.

— But, no, said he, a hundred times no, I have no curiosity for what does not concern me. Monsieur de Buckingham is for me but a slight acquaintance, while Raoul is an intimate friend. I therefore have no curiosity to know what happened to Monsieur de Buckingham, while I have every interest in knowing what happened to Raoul.

— At Paris?

— Yes, at Paris or at Boulogne. You understand, I am present: if some event occurs, I am here to face it; while Raoul is absent and has only me to represent him; therefore, Raoul's affairs before mine.

— But Raoul will return.

— Yes, after his mission. Meanwhile, you understand, no bad rumors can circulate about him without my examining them.

— All the more that he will remain there some time, in London, said De Wardes with a sneer.

— You believe so? asked De Guiche naively.

— Parbleu! do you think he was sent to London only to go and come back? Not at all; he was sent to London to stay there.

— Ah! count, said De Guiche, seizing De Wardes's hand with force, here is a suspicion very vexing for Bragelonne, and which marvelously justifies what he wrote me from Boulogne.

De Wardes became cold again; the love of raillery had pushed him forward, and he had, by his imprudence, given hold upon himself.

— Well! come, what did he write? he asked.

— That you had slipped him some perfidious insinuations against La Vallière and that you had seemed to laugh at his great confidence in that young girl.

— Yes, I did all that, said De Wardes, and I was ready, in doing it, to hear myself told by the Viscount of Bragelonne what one man says to another when the latter displeases him. Thus, for example, if I sought a quarrel with you, I would tell you that Madame, after having distinguished Monsieur de Buckingham, now passes for having dismissed the handsome duke only to your profit.

— Oh! that would not wound me in the least, dear De Wardes, said De Guiche, smiling despite the shiver that ran in his veins like an injection of fire. Peste! such a favor is honey.

— Agreed; but, if I absolutely wanted a quarrel with you, I would seek a contradiction, and I would speak to you of a certain grove where you met with that illustrious princess, of certain genuflections, of certain hand-kissings, and you who are a secret man, you, lively and punctilious...

— Why, no, I swear to you, said De Guiche, interrupting him with a smile on his lips, though he was inclined to believe he was about to die, no, I swear to you that would not touch me, that I would give you no contradiction. What would you have, very dear count, I am made thus; for things that concern me, I am ice. Ah! it is quite another thing when it is a question of an absent friend, of a friend who, on departing, confided his interests to us; oh! for that friend, you see, De Wardes, I am all fire!

— I understand you, Monsieur de Guiche; but, say what you will, there can be no question between us, at this hour, neither of Bragelonne, nor of that insignificant young girl called La Vallière.

At this moment, some young men of the Court crossed the salon, and, having already heard the words that had just been spoken, were in a position to hear those that were to follow.

De Wardes perceived it and continued aloud:

— Oh! if La Vallière were a coquette like Madame, whose provocations, very innocent, I grant, first caused Monsieur de Buckingham to be sent back to England, and then caused you to be exiled, you, for, after all, you let yourself be taken in by her provocations, did you not, monsieur?

The gentlemen approached, de Saint-Aignan at their head, Manicamp after.

— Eh! my dear, what would you have? said De Guiche laughing, I am a vain fellow, I, everyone knows that. I took a jest seriously, and had myself exiled. But I saw my error, I bowed my vanity at the feet of those concerned, and obtained my recall by making honorable amends and promising myself to cure myself of that fault, and, you see, I am so well cured of it, that I now laugh at what, four days ago, broke my heart. But, he, Raoul, he is loved; he does not laugh at the rumors that may trouble his happiness, rumors of which you made yourself the interpreter when you knew nevertheless, count, as I, as these gentlemen, as everyone, that those rumors were but a calumny.

— A calumny! cried De Wardes, furious at seeing himself pushed into the trap by De Guiche's coolness.

— But yes, a calumny. Why! here is his letter, in which he tells me you spoke ill of Mlle de La Vallière, and where he asks me if what you said of that young girl is true. Will you have me make these gentlemen judges, De Wardes?

And, with the greatest coolness, De Guiche read aloud the paragraph of the letter that concerned La Vallière.

— And, now, continued De Guiche, it is well established for me that you wished to wound the peace of that dear Bragelonne, and that your words were malicious.

De Wardes looked around to know if he would have support somewhere; but, at this idea that De Wardes had insulted, directly or indirectly, her who was the idol of the day, each shook his head, and De Wardes saw only men ready to give him wrong.

— Gentlemen, said De Guiche, divining by instinct the general sentiment, our discussion with Monsieur de Wardes bears upon so delicate a subject, that it is important no one hear more of it than you have heard. Keep the doors therefore, I pray you, and leave us to finish this conversation between ourselves, as befits two gentlemen of whom one has given the other a contradiction.

— Gentlemen! gentlemen! cried the bystanders.

— Do you find I was wrong to defend Mlle de La Vallière? said De Guiche. In that case, I pass sentence on myself and withdraw the wounding words I may have said against Monsieur de Wardes.

— Peste! said de Saint-Aignan, not at all!... Mlle de La Vallière is an angel.

— Virtue, purity in person, said Manicamp.

— You see, Monsieur de Wardes, said De Guiche, I am not the only one to take up the defense of the poor child. Gentlemen, a second time, I beseech you to leave us. You see it is impossible to be calmer than we are.

The courtiers asked nothing better than to withdraw; some went to one door, others to the other.

The two young men remained alone.

— Well played, said De Wardes to the count.

— Is it not? replied the latter.

— What would you have? I have grown rusty in the provinces, my dear, while you, the power you have gained over yourself confounds me, count; one always acquires something in the society of women; accept therefore all my compliments.

— I accept them.

— And I shall return them to Madame.

— Oh! now, my dear Monsieur de Wardes, speak of her as loudly as you please.

— Do not defy me to it.

— Oh! I defy you to it! You are known for a wicked man; if you do that, you will pass for a coward, and Monsieur will have you hanged this evening from the tassel of his window. Speak, my dear De Wardes, speak.

— I am beaten.

— Yes, but not yet as much as befits.

— I see you would not be sorry to beat me utterly.

— No, even better.

— The devil! it is that, for the moment, my dear count, you come at a bad time; after the one I have just played, a match cannot suit me. I lost too much blood at Boulogne: at the least effort my wounds would reopen, and, truly, you would have too easy a bargain of me.

— That is true, said De Guiche, and yet, on arriving, you made show of your fine looks and good arms.

— Yes, the arms still go, that is true; but the legs are weak, and then I have not held the foil since that devil of a duel; and you, I wager, you fence every day to bring your little ambush to a good end.

— Upon my honor, monsieur, replied De Guiche, it is half a year since I have taken exercise.

— No, you see, count, all things considered, I shall not fight, not with you, at least. I shall wait for Bragelonne, since you say it is Bragelonne who bears me ill will.

— Oh! not at all, you shall not wait for Bragelonne, cried De Guiche beside himself; for, as you have said, Bragelonne may be long in returning, and, meanwhile, your wicked wit will do its work.

— However, I shall have an excuse. Beware!

— I give you eight days to finish recovering.

— That is already better. In eight days, we shall see.

— Yes, yes, I understand: in eight days, one can escape the enemy. No, no, not one.

— You are mad, monsieur, said De Wardes, taking a step backward.

— And you, you are a wretch. If you do not fight of your own free will...

— Well?

— I denounce you to the king as having refused to fight after insulting La Vallière.

— Ah! said De Wardes, you are dangerously treacherous, Monsieur Honest Man.

— Nothing more dangerous than the treachery of him who always walks loyally.

— Then give me back my legs, or have yourself bled white to equalize our chances.

— Not at all, I have better than that.

— Say.

— We shall both mount horse and exchange three pistol shots. You fire with first-rate skill. I have seen you bring down swallows, with ball and at a gallop. Do not say no, I have seen you.

— I believe you are right, said De Wardes; and, as so, it is possible I shall kill you.

— Truly, you would do me a service.

— I shall do my best.

— Is it said?

— Your hand.

— Here it is... On one condition, though.

— Which?

— You swear to me to say or have said nothing to the king?

— Nothing, I swear to you.

— I am going to fetch my horse.

— And I mine.

— Where shall we go?

— To the plain; I know an excellent spot.

— Do we set out together?

— Why not?

And both, making their way toward the stables, passed under Madame's windows, softly lit; a shadow grew behind the lace curtains.

— There is nevertheless a woman, said De Wardes smiling, who little suspects we are going to death for her.

Chapter CLII — The Combat

De Wardes chose his horse, and De Guiche his.

Then each saddled it himself with a saddle with holsters.

De Wardes had no pistols. De Guiche had two pairs. He went to fetch them from his rooms, loaded them, and offered De Wardes the choice.

De Wardes chose pistols he had used twenty times, the same with which De Guiche had seen him kill swallows on the wing.

— You will not be surprised, said he, that I take all my precautions. Your weapons are known to you. I therefore but equalize the chances.

— The remark was unnecessary, replied De Guiche, and you are within your rights.

— Now, said De Wardes, I pray you to be so good as to help me mount, for I still experience a certain difficulty in it.

— Then you should have chosen to fight on foot.

— No, once in the saddle, I am worth my man.

— Very well, let us say no more of it.

And De Guiche helped De Wardes mount.

— Now, continued the young man, in our ardor to exterminate each other, we took no heed of one thing.

— Of which?

“Stories of the world, in your language.”