Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas (suggested reading TXT) 📗
- Author: Alexandre Dumas
Book online «Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas (suggested reading TXT) 📗». Author Alexandre Dumas
“In fact,” resumed Saint-Aignan, “your majesty will grant an audience; nothing is clearer than that.”
“I will do better, Saint-Aignan.”
“What is that, sire?”
“Put on your cloak.”
“But, sire—”
“You know the suite of rooms where Madame’s maids of honor are lodged?”
“Certainly.”
“You know some means of obtaining an entrance there.”
“As far as that is concerned, I do not.”
“At all events, you must be acquainted with some one there.”
“Really, your majesty is the source of every good idea.”
“You do know some one, then. Who is it?”
“I know a certain gentleman, who is on very good terms with a certain young lady there.”
“One of the maids of honor?”
“Yes, sire.”
“With Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, I suppose?” said the king, laughing.
“Fortunately, no, sire; with Montalais.”
“What is his name?”
“Malicorne.”
“And you can depend on him?”
“I believe so, sire. He ought to have a key of some sort in his possession; and if he should happen to have one, as I have done him a service, why, he will let us have it.”
“Nothing could be better. Let us set off immediately.”
The king threw his cloak over Saint-Aignan’s shoulders, asked him for his, and both went out into the vestibule.
Chapter LIX. Something That neither Naiad nor Dryad Foresaw.
Saint-Aignan stopped at the foot of the staircase leading to the entresol, where the maids of honor were lodged, and to the first floor, where Madame’s apartments were situated. Then, by means of one of the servants who was passing, he sent to apprise Malicorne, who was still with Monsieur. After having waited ten minutes, Malicorne arrived, full of self-importance. The king drew back towards the darkest part of the vestibule. Saint-Aignan, on the contrary, advanced to meet him, but at the first words, indicating his wish, Malicorne drew back abruptly.
“Oh, oh!” he said, “you want me to introduce you into the rooms of the maids of honor?”
“Yes.”
“You know very well that I cannot do anything of the kind, without being made acquainted with your object.”
“Unfortunately, my dear Monsieur Malicorne, it is quite impossible for me to give you any explanation; you must therefore confide in me as in a friend who got you out of a great difficulty yesterday, and who now begs you to draw him out of one to-day.”
“Yet I told you, monsieur, what my object was; which was, not to sleep out in the open air, and any man might express the same wish, whilst you, however, admit nothing.”
“Believe me, my dear Monsieur Malicorne,” Saint-Aignan persisted, “that if I were permitted to explain myself, I would do so.”
“In that case, my dear monsieur, it is impossible for me to allow you to enter Mademoiselle de Montalais’s apartment.”
“Why so?”
“You know why, better than any one else, since you caught me on the wall paying my addresses to Mademoiselle de Montalais; it would, therefore, be an excess of kindness on my part, you will admit, since I am paying my attentions to her, to open the door of her room to you.”
“But who told you it was on her account I asked you for the key?”
“For whom, then?”
“She does not lodge there alone, I suppose?”
“No, certainly; for Mademoiselle de la Valliere shares her rooms with her; but, really, you have nothing more to do with Mademoiselle de la Valliere than with Mademoiselle de Montalais, and there are only two men to whom I would give this key; to M. de Bragelonne, if he begged me to give it to him, and to the king, if he commanded me.”
“In that case, give me the key, monsieur: I order you to do so,” said the king, advancing from the obscurity, and partially opening his cloak. “Mademoiselle de Montalais will step down to talk with you, while we go up-stairs to Mademoiselle de la Valliere, for, in fact, it is she only whom we desire to see.”
“The king!” exclaimed Malicorne, bowing to the very ground.
“Yes, the king,” said Louis, smiling: “the king, who is as pleased with your resistance as with your capitulation. Rise, monsieur, and render us the service we request of you.”
“I obey, your majesty,” said Malicorne, leading the way up the staircase.
“Get Mademoiselle de Montalais to come down,” said the king, “and do not breathe a word to her of my visit.”
Malicorne bowed in token of obedience, and proceeded up the staircase. But the king, after a hasty reflection, followed him, and that, too, with such rapidity, that, although Malicorne was already more than half-way up the staircase, the king reached the room at the same moment. He then observed, by the door which remained half-opened behind Malicorne, La Valliere, sitting in an armchair with her head thrown back, and in the opposite corner Montalais, who, in her dressing-gown, was standing before a looking-glass, engaged in arranging her hair, and parleying the while with Malicorne. The king hurriedly opened the door and entered the room. Montalais called out at the noise made by the opening of the door, and, recognizing the king, made her escape. La Valliere rose from her seat, like a dead person galvanized, and then fell back in her armchair. The king advanced slowly towards her.
“You wished for an audience, I believe,” he said coldly. “I am ready to hear you. Speak.”
Saint-Aignan, faithful to his character of being deaf, blind, and dumb, had stationed himself in a corner of the door, upon a stool which by chance he found there. Concealed by the tapestry which covered the doorway, and leaning his back against the wall, he could thus listen without being seen; resigning himself to the post of a good watch-dog, who patiently waits and watches without ever getting in his master’s way.
La Valliere,
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