Kitabı oku: «Old Court Life in France, Volume II (of 2)», sayfa 15

CHAPTER XXV.
UNDER A COUCH

ABOUT this time Lauzun, soon to become cousin-german to the King, solicited the distinguished post of Grand Master of the Artillery. Already he commanded the Dragoons, and was captain of the hundred gentlemen pensioners who guarded the person of the Sovereign; but this was not enough. The King readily promised him the appointment; but time went on, and no warrant came. Lauzun grew uneasy – specially as each time he recalled the subject the King evidently evaded it. What did this mean? Who was his enemy? He spoke to the favourite, Madame de Montespan, although he was well aware he had given her good cause for hating him. Madame de Montespan, with the most winning smiles, promised him her assistance. Still no warrant came. Again Lauzun ventured to recall his promise to the King at his lever, while handing him his feathered hat and cane. Louis turned away his head, addressed the Duc de Roquelaure, and affected not to hear him. There was treachery somewhere! Lauzun shrewdly suspected Madame de Montespan. He would know for certain that very day, and if it were so he would unmask her. He offered a heavy bribe to one of her confidential attendants, well known to him in the days of their liaison, and prevailed on her to introduce him into the saloon, where the King would visit Madame de Montespan before supper, that very afternoon. Louis, who told his mistress everything, and consulted her about all important appointments, would be sure to mention Lauzun's renewed application of that morning. At all events Lauzun would chance it. He knew the lady was from home, having seen her start, in company with the Queen and Mademoiselle de Montpensier, for a drive to Saint-Cloud. He had handed his betrothed into the royal coach. No sooner had they started than Lauzun was admitted into Madame de Montespan's apartments by her friendly attendant. She assisted him in his arrangements, and finally concealed him under a large couch covered with fine tapestry, on which Madame de Montespan usually sat. It was an undignified proceeding. He had to divest himself of his periwig and plumed hat, take off his richly embroidered satin coat, tuck up his shirt sleeves, and crouch upon his hands and knees upon the dusty floor. But these are trifles to a man bent upon revenge!

Shortly before the hour of supper, which their Majesties eat in public, Lauzun recognised Madame de Montespan's voice within her boudoir. Then he heard steps approaching. He could swear to the King's solemn tread and the sound of his cane tapping on the floor.

Almost before he could settle himself in the best position for listening the King was announced. At the same moment Madame de Montespan entered from her boudoir on the other side of the saloon. He heard her advance to the door and receive the King. She kissed his hand; Louis saluted her on both cheeks, and led her to the couch under which Lauzun lay concealed.

"Your Majesty looks vexed this afternoon," said Madame de Montespan in a softly modulated voice. "What has happened?"

"I am exceedingly annoyed about that affair of Lauzun," replied Louis, seating himself in an arm-chair. "He has again applied to me about the Artillery this morning."

Madame de Montespan leant back indolently among the cushions, little dreaming who was crouching beneath so near her, and placed her feet upon an embroidered stool. A feather fan hung at her side, and as the weather was warm she took it up and moved it languidly to and fro, gazing absently at the King, who awaited her reply.

"Did you hear what I said, Athanaise? I am annoyed about Lauzun."

"I heard, Sire; but what can I say? You already know my opinion on that subject. Need I repeat it?"

This was said in a careless manner, as she sank back deeper among the cushions.

(Lauzun was all ears. "She has given her opinion then," he said to himself. "I think I can guess what it was.")

"I promised Lauzun the place, remember," continued the King. "He certainly merits it; but your friend Louvois will not hear of his appointment. He torments me every time I see him to give the Artillery to the Comte de Lude."

"I certainly advise you," returned the lady, glancing at herself in an opposite mirror and arranging the fringe of small curls that lay on her forehead, "to be guided by the advice of so experienced a minister as Louvois, rather than listen to such an empty-headed coxcomb as Lauzun."

("Ah, that is the opinion you have of me, is it?" muttered Lauzun. "Now I know you, you traitress!")

"But remember, Athanaise," said the King, taking out his snuff-box and applying the powder to his nose with great deliberation – "remember his attachment to me, his courage."

"His attachment to you, Sire!" and Madame de Montespan smiled ironically. "Do you believe in it?"

"Certainly. Then my word – "

"Bah! your word – that is nothing. Withdraw it."

("Ah! fiend," exclaimed Lauzun in a low voice, clenching his fists as well as his position allowed him; "this is the way you plead my cause, is it? Curses on you!")

"You need not fear for Lauzun," continued the lady blandly. "Mademoiselle will take care of his interests – the old fool!"

Madame de Montespan, in imitation of La Grande Mademoiselle, bridled, simpered, craned her neck, rounded her elbows, and stared superciliously under her eyelids. Louis laughed.

"Spare my poor cousin, Marquise. She is eminently ridiculous; but I love her sincerely. Her genuine affection for Lauzun touches me."

"For my part, Sire, I cannot understand how any woman can care for him. He is such a petit maître– ill-made, short, with a complexion like a lemon – altogether detestable. Not a man to my taste, certainly," added she contemptuously, at the same time casting a flattering glance at the King, as much as to say, in his presence no other man could possibly be thought of. The King understood the glance and the compliment, and smiled upon her.

"The ladies are not on your side, however," returned he. "They all adore Lauzun. But about this command of Artillery – to whom am I to give it?"

("Now I shall know all the depths of your treachery, Athanaise de Montespan!" said Lauzun half aloud to himself from under the couch.)

"Did any one speak?" asked the King quickly. "I thought I heard a voice."

(Lauzun bit his lips with vexation.)

"It must be my parrot, Sire," answered Madame de Montespan. "In giving away so important a post you ought certainly to consult the welfare of France. All personal considerations should be sacrificed." De Montespan spoke pompously.

("Sacré Dieu!" murmured Lauzun. "She is a female Judas!")

"What can the welfare of France have to do with this appointment?" asked the King, smiling.

("That is what I want to know too," whispered Lauzun. "Speak, serpent!")

"No man in France is better adapted to fill this post than Lauzun," added Louis gravely.

"How?" cried Madame de Montespan, sitting upright, and speaking in a shrill voice and with much animation, as the King seemed to vacillate. "How, Sire? Can you forget that dissensions between Louvois offended, and Lauzun imperious, (and you know, Sire, his overbearing temper, and how audacious he can be) must be exceedingly prejudicial to the State?"

"Spoken like an oracle!" exclaimed the King, looking admiringly at her. "What a head you have for business, madame! You are as beautiful as Venus, and as wise as Minerva!"

"Your Majesty flatters me," replied the lady, casting an enamoured glance at him. "I only observe what is perfectly plain. I am sure your Majesty's penetration must have arrived at this conclusion already. Remember, Louvois may resign, if you affront him," continued she, fixing her bright eyes on Louis.

"Now, all the fates prevent it!" cried Louis with alarm. "I should be lost without Louvois."

"Then you must at once refuse Lauzun!" cried De Montespan with decision.

("By heaven, I will be revenged!" muttered Lauzun, stung with sudden rage at her perfidy, in a louder voice than he was aware of.)

"Now I am certain I heard some one speak!" exclaimed the King, frowning, and turning his ear towards the spot from which the sound came. He paused to listen. "Athanaise," said he, rising, and looking suspiciously at Madame de Montespan, "this is very strange. I demand an explanation." His Olympian brow was knit.

"Your Majesty is mistaken, you only heard my parrot in the anteroom. Surely you do not doubt me, Sire!" added she in a tearful voice, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. "Such an insult would kill me." Her bosom heaved. "Oh, Louis, you cannot love me if you entertain such unworthy suspicions." Sobs, real or false, here stifled her voice.

Meanwhile Louis rose hastily, and looked into the corners and behind all the cabinets, as if determined to make a thorough investigation of the whole room. This would have rendered Lauzun's position desperate. He positively shook with terror. Madame de Montespan still sobbed, her handkerchief pressed to her eyes.

The King took a few turns up and down the saloon, brandished his cane, and moved some chairs. The noise he made roused the parrot in the next room into a fury. It screeched so loud that for a time nothing else could be heard.

Finding no one, Louis, rather embarrassed, placed himself at a window. He looked back at the beautiful woman still weeping on the settee. "Come, no more tears, Athanaise," he said tenderly, approaching her with a penitent look and taking the handkerchief from her face. "Let this kiss seal my pardon. But the voice was really so distinct. I thought for a moment – " Madame de Montespan fixed her eyes reproachfully on him. "Well, no matter. Then you advise me to refuse Lauzun the post he desires?"

"Certainly," returned the lady with decision. She was now quite calm and alive to business.

A knock was heard at the door. Several gentlemen in waiting, attended by pages, entered and announced that supper was served and the Queen already at table.

"I must leave you, my angel," said the King, in a low voice, rising. "It is time you should prepare for the performance of Molière's play in the theatre arranged for to-night. Adieu, my adored Marquise. Forgive my want of courtesy," he whispered in her ear. "But the parrot's voice was so natural. – I will wipe off my fault in any manner you please."

"I ask for nothing, Sire," replied she, in the same low tone, "but that you should refuse this place to Lauzun. Do this, and you are forgiven," and her eyes beamed on the King, who, after placing his hat, covered with a plume of snowy ostrich feathers, on his head, raised it, bowed to her, and kissed her hand. Then replacing his hat before he left the room with his attendants, he passed the outer entrance, where the gardes du corps, who never left him, presented arms.

Madame de Montespan passed into her closet.

When the saloon was empty, Lauzun, crimson in the face, foaming with rage and much rumpled in appearance, emerged from his hiding-place. He hastily replaced his wig, – so hastily, indeed, that he put it on awry, – and dragged on his coat with such violence that he tore off the priceless Malines lace ruffles. Oath after oath fell from his lips as he dressed himself. "You shall pay for this, devil of a Marquise! Morbleu, I will make you wince!" he muttered – for he dared not speak louder until he had left the room. This he did, closing the doors with the utmost precaution behind him.

The suite of rooms assigned to Madame de Montespan led by a corridor to the landing of the grand marble staircase of the south wing. On the other side and across this landing were the state apartments, situated in the centre of the palace. To reach them Madame de Montespan must pass this corridor. Lauzun placed himself behind the outer door, and awaited her. After a long time she appeared. Her hair, just touched with powder, was sown with diamonds. A necklace of large single brilliants, linked together with pearls, lay upon her neck. Her dress was of pink satin, woven with gold; the low body fitting tightly, displayed to the utmost advantage her exquisite form. Her train of violet velvet, bordered by pearls and passementerie of gold, swept the ground. She was a miracle of loveliness. Lauzun made her a profound obeisance. Taking the tips of her fingers within his hand, he kissed them, and begged permission to be allowed the honour of escorting her across the landing to the state apartments. Madame de Montespan smiled; his delicate attention flattered her vanity. Her anger was appeased. The gay sabreur was returning to his allegiance. Lauzun was now, too, a personage, as the betrothed of Mademoiselle, and cousin-to-be of the King. She almost repented she had urged the King so strongly to refuse him the post of Grand Master of the Artillery.

Lauzun, speaking in the softest and most insinuating voice, now asked her if she had condescended, during her recent interview with the King, to remember his humble suit to his Majesty, for which he had recommended himself to her all-powerful influence?

"This very afternoon I have done so," replied she with the utmost effrontery. "Indeed, I have urged your claims so strongly upon both his Majesty and Louvois that I believe you will receive the appointment to-morrow."

"How kind you are!" answered Lauzun, affecting to smile.

"Yes," returned the lady, "after all my eloquence, Monsieur le Comte, you must be successful," and she gave him one of those glances out of her serpent eyes, whose power she knew so well.

"Delightful!" rejoined Lauzun aloud. "I am quite satisfied." Then, placing his mouth close to her ear, while a Satanic look passed over his face, he hissed out, "Yes, I am satisfied, for now I have fairly unmasked you. You are the greatest liar in his Majesty's dominions!"

As he spoke her arm still lay confidingly on his. In a moment he had seized and crushed it violently. Madame de Montespan gave a piercing scream.

"Yes," yelled Lauzun, planting himself before her – "yes, I can prove what I say. I have heard every word you said of me to the King. I was present – concealed."

"Ah!" shrieked Madame de Montespan, agonised with pain. She stopped, and leant against the wall for support. A look of real terror came into her face. She turned appealingly toward Lauzun, who stood before her glaring with passion, then, overcome by pain and fright, she staggered, and fainting, or affecting to faint, fell heavily upon the pavement. There Lauzun left her. Without calling for help, he strode rapidly down the grand staircase, and disappeared.

CHAPTER XXVI.
SIGNING THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT

A DAY is at length fixed. The contract between Mademoiselle and Lauzun is to be signed at the Luxembourg Palace. Mademoiselle arrays herself in the white robe of an affianced bride. Lauzun is beside her. He is ostentatiously humble; indeed, he had never been thoroughly civil to her before.

As he enters the boudoir in her private suite of apartments, he salutes her with his grandest air, and kisses her hand. Mademoiselle cannot take her eyes off him. Her senile transports are ridiculous; Lauzun feels that they are.

A table is placed in the centre of the room; at this table sits Boucherat, notary to her royal highness. He is dressed in the quaint clerical robe, white bands, and short wig that still distinguished his profession in France. The marriage contract, of portentous size, lies open on the table before him. Boucherat, a tall spare man, with a singularly doleful expression of countenance, looks discomposed, coughs several times, then, finding that no one attends to him, looks up. Mademoiselle is talking eagerly with Lauzun.

"Your royal highness – " begins Boucherat, hesitating. "Will you permit me to address you, madame?" he adds in a louder tone, finding Mademoiselle pays no attention to him.

"What is it, my good Boucherat?" asks Mademoiselle, turning round at last towards him.

Boucherat rises to his feet. He bows, standing on the tips of his toes, then folds his arms. He is purple in the face, and appears to be suffering acutely, especially as, suddenly unfolding his arms, he rubs them violently together.

Lauzun laughs. Mademoiselle cannot altogether command her countenance.

"I have known your royal highness from a child," says Boucherat hurriedly, as though speaking between spasms of pain. "I have had the honour of serving your illustrious father, Gaston, Duc d'Orléans, as notary before your birth – exalted lady." Here Boucherat stops, gasps as if going into a fit, wipes his forehead with his handkerchief, and adjusts his wig.

Lauzun roars with laughter, and Mademoiselle contemplates the notary with silent amazement.

"I have the honour to say, – great lady," continues Boucherat spasmodically, "that I have known you from a child. I have always obeyed you, blindly, as was my duty and my pleasure. I have obeyed you now, madame," and he utters a sound between a snort and a groan. "I have at your command drawn up these deeds, as you bade me. But," and he again stops, blows his nose violently, and makes a hideous grimace, "I cannot allow your highness to sign these deeds and contracts without presuming to ask you if you have fully considered their import." Here such a succession of twitches and spasmodic contortions passes over his countenance, that he is scarcely human.

"I have well considered what I am doing, Boucherat," replies Mademoiselle loftily, advancing to the table and taking a pen in her hand.

Lauzun, no longer laughing, stands contemplating Boucherat, with a savage expression.

"Your highness – permit me," pursues the notary, not seeing him. "Is it to be an entire donation of the princedom of Dombes, the county of Eu, the dukedom of – "

"Yes, yes, Boucherat, an entire donation," replies Mademoiselle, interrupting him.

She dips the pen into the ink and prepares to sign.

"An entire donation, madame?" gasps Boucherat, rising noisily to his feet, then re-seating himself, and repeating this several times in his excitement. "Let me caution your highness – " Another snort and a succession of loud coughs silence him.

"This good man will certainly have a fit," says Mademoiselle half aloud. "What can I do with him? Do not agitate yourself, Boucherat," and she turns towards him. She well knows his great fidelity and attachment to herself. "Have no fear. I know what I am about. I shall never be more mistress of my fortune than when I give it to this gentleman."

She turns round and glances fondly at Lauzun, who is standing behind her. She starts back at the furious expression on his face. He looks diabolical. His eyes are fixed on Boucherat. The pen drops from her hand.

"Believe me, madame, I – I have reason for my caution"; and again all human expression passes from the face of the notary in a succession of the most violent winks.

"How, villain! what do you mean?" cries Lauzun, advancing. "I shall break my cane on your back presently."

Boucherat rises, looks for a moment at Lauzun, then at Mademoiselle, shakes his head, readjusts his wig, and reseats himself.

Mademoiselle had taken the pen – which Lauzun presents to her this time – again in her hand.

"Ah, your highness," groans Boucherat, "I have done my duty. God help and guard you!"

"Are these deeds as I commanded them, Boucherat?"

"Yes, madame; they are a donation, an entire donation, of the princedom of Dombes, the – "

"Be silent, scoundrel!" roars Lauzun, "or by heaven I will split your head open."

Boucherat shudders; his eyes seem to turn in his head; a look of horror is on his face.

Mademoiselle draws the parchment towards her.

"I sign here," she says, and she traces her name in a bold, firm hand, "Louise de Montpensier."

While she writes, Boucherat digs his hands into his wig, which, pushed to one side, discloses his bald head. Then with a piteous glance at his mistress, he flings his arms wildly into the air.

"Alas, alas! would I had died before this! the princedom of Dombes gone – the county of Eu gone! Oh, madame!"

"Be silent, madman!" roars Lauzun, "or, pardieu, I will throttle you."

The folding-doors leading into the state apartments are now thrown open. Mademoiselle appears, led by the Comte de Lauzun. These state apartments had been decorated by her grandmother, Marie de' Medici, who had lived in this palace. The walls are ornamented with delicate arabesques, panelled with golden borders, and painted above in compartments. The vaulted ceilings are divided into various designs, executed by Rubens, illustrating the life of his royal mistress. Around hang the effigies of the Medici and the Bourbons, the common ancestors of Marie de' Medici and her granddaughter.

Mademoiselle passes round the brilliant circle which forms itself about her, still holding Lauzun by the hand.

"Permit me," says she, in her stateliest manner, taking her position at the top of the throne-room under a canopy – "Permit me to present to you my future husband, the Duc de Montpensier. Let me beg all of you in future to address him by that title only."

The royal princes present and the great personages of the Court bow their acquiescence. The Maréchal de Bellefonds advances and salutes Mademoiselle.

"Permit me, madame," says he, addressing her, "to congratulate you in the name of your highness's devoted friends. I desire to thank you especially in the name of the nobility of France, whom I represent, for the honour you are conferring on our order by choosing from amongst us a consort to share your dignity. We esteem Monsieur de Lauzun one of the brightest ornaments of the Court; he is worthy of the proud station for which you have selected him."

"I thank you, Maréchal de Bellefonds, and I thank the nobility of France whom you so worthily represent. I thank you from my heart," and Mademoiselle curtseys with royal grace. "No one is so well acquainted as myself with the merit of Monsieur de Lauzun," and she glances proudly at her future husband. "I accept with pleasure the sympathy of his friends."

Lauzun bends, and kisses the hand of his affianced wife.

Then the Maréchal de Charost steps forth from a glittering crowd of officers. Charost is a captain in the royal body-guard.

"I must also thank your highness for the honour you confer on the army of France. My post is now without price; for what would a soldier not give, what sacrifices would he not make, to become the brother-in-arms of the husband of your highness?"

A laugh follows this hearty outburst of enthusiasm. It is scarcely audible, but Mademoiselle instantly suppresses it with a frown. Lauzun is a sacred object in her eyes, and she permits no jests, however flattering, to mix with his name. Turning towards the Maréchal de Charost, she replies with haughty courtesy —

"I thank you, Maréchal, and, in your person I thank the brave army of his Majesty, my cousin."

Before this august company separates it is announced that the marriage contract is to be at once submitted to the King, Queen, the Dauphin, the Duc d'Orléans, and the princes of the blood-royal.

The marriage is to take place next day at Charenton, at the villa of the Marquise de Créqui. The Archbishop of Rheims is to officiate.