Louise de la Valliere by Alexandre Dumas (best sales books of all time TXT) 📗
- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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“Madame, Madame, your highness is forgetting your mask!” said her vigilant companion.
“Pick it up,” replied her mistress, as she tottered almost senseless towards the staircase, and as the outer door had been left only half-closed, the two women, light as birds, passed through it, and with hurried steps returned to the palace. One of them ascended towards Madame’s apartments, where she disappeared; the other entered the rooms belonging to the maids of honor, namely, on the entresol, and having reached her own room, she sat down before a table, and without giving herself time even to breathe, wrote the following letter:
“This evening Madame has been to see M. de Guiche. Everything is going well on this side. See that your news is equally exemplary, and do not forget to burn this paper.”
She folded the letter, and leaving her room with every possible precaution, crossed a corridor which led to the apartments appropriated to the gentlemen attached to Monsieur’s service. She stopped before a door, under which, having previously knocked twice in a short, quick manner, she thrust the paper, and fled. Then, returning to her own room, she removed every trace of her having gone out, and also of having written the letter. Amid the investigations she was so diligently pursuing she perceived on the table the mask which belonged to Madame, and which, according to her mistress’s directions, she had brought back but had forgotten to restore to her. “Oh, oh!” she said, “I must not forget to do to-morrow what I have forgotten to-day.”
And she took hold of the velvet mask by that part which covered the cheeks, and feeling that her thumb was wet, looked at it. It was not only wet, but reddened. The mask had fallen upon one of the spots of blood which, we have already said, stained the floor, and from that black velvet outside which had accidentally come into contact with it, the blood had passed through to the inside, and stained the white cambric lining. “Oh, oh!” said Montalais, for doubtless our readers have already recognized her by these various maneuvers, “I shall not give back this mask; it is far too precious now.”
And rising from her seat, she ran towards a box made of maple wood, which inclosed different articles of toilette and perfumery. “No, not here,” she said, “such a treasure must not be abandoned to the slightest chance of detection.”
Then, after a moment’s silence, and with a smile that was peculiarly her own, she added:—“Beautiful mask, stained with the blood of that brave knight, you shall go and join that collection of wonders, La Valliere’s and Raoul’s letters, that loving collection, indeed, which will some day or other form part of the history of France, of European royalty. You shall be placed under M. Malicorne’s care,” said the laughing girl, as she began to undress herself, “under the protection of that worthy M. Malicorne,” she said, blowing out the taper, “who thinks he was born only to become the chief usher of Monsieur’s apartments, and whom I will make keeper of the records and historiographer of the house of Bourbon, and of the first houses in the kingdom. Let him grumble now, that discontented Malicorne,” she added, as she drew the curtains and fell asleep.
Chapter XXII. The Journey.
The next day being agreed upon for the departure, the king, at eleven o’clock precisely, descended the grand staircase with the two queens and Madame, in order to enter his carriage drawn by six horses, that were pawing the ground in impatience at the foot of the staircase. The whole court awaited the royal appearance in the Fer-a-cheval crescent, in their travelling costumes; the large number of saddled horses and carriages of ladies and gentlemen of the court, surrounded by their attendants, servants, and pages, formed a spectacle whose brilliancy could scarcely be equalled. The king entered his carriage with the two queens; Madame was in the same one with Monsieur. The maids of honor followed their example, and took their seats, two by two, in the carriages destined for them. The weather was exceedingly warm; a light breeze, which, early in the morning, all had thought would have proved sufficient to cool the air, soon became fiercely heated by the rays of the sun, although it was hidden behind the clouds, and filtered through the heated vapor which rose from the ground like a scorching wind, bearing particles of fine dust against the faces of the travelers. Madame was the first to complain of the heat. Monsieur’s only reply was to throw himself back in the carriage as though about to faint, and to inundate himself with scents and perfumes, uttering the deepest sighs all the while; whereupon Madame said to him, with her most amiable expression:—“Really, Monsieur, I fancied that you would have been polite enough, on account of the terrible heat, to have left me my carriage to myself, and to have performed the journey yourself on horseback.”
“Ride on horseback!” cried the prince, with an accent of dismay which showed how little idea he had of adopting this unnatural advice; “you cannot suppose such a thing, Madame! My skin would peel off if I were to expose myself to such a burning breeze as this.”
Madame began to laugh.
“You can take my parasol,” she said.
“But the trouble of holding it!” replied Monsieur, with the greatest coolness; “besides, I have no horse.”
“What, no horse?” replied the princess, who, if she did not secure the solitude she required, at least obtained the amusement of teasing. “No horse! You are mistaken, Monsieur; for I see your favorite bay out yonder.”
“My bay horse!” exclaimed the prince, attempting to lean forward to look out of the door; but the movement he was obliged to make cost him so much trouble that he soon hastened to resume his immobility.
“Yes,” said Madame; “your horse, led by M. de Malicorne.”
“Poor beast,” replied the prince; “how warm it must be!”
And with these words he closed his eyes, like a man on the point of death. Madame, on her side, reclined indolently in the other corner of the carriage, and closed her eyes also, not, however, to sleep, but to think more at her ease. In the meantime the king, seated in the front seat of his carriage, the back of which he had yielded up to the two queens, was a prey to that feverish contrariety experienced by anxious lovers, who, without being able to quench their ardent thirst, are ceaselessly desirous of seeing the loved object, and then go away partially satisfied, without perceiving they have acquired a more insatiable thirst than ever. The king, whose carriage headed the procession,
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