CHAPTER 3
The Interview.
Raoul made one step towards the girl who thus called him.
"But my horse, madame?" said he.
"Oh! you are terribly embarrassed! Go yonder way -- there is
a shed in the outer court: fasten your horse, and return
quickly!"
"I obey, madame."
Raoul was not four minutes in performing what he had been
directed to do; he returned to the little door, where, in
the gloom, he found his mysterious conductress waiting for
him, on the first steps of a winding staircase.
"Are you brave enough to follow me, monsieur knight errant?"
asked the girl, laughing at the momentary hesitation Raoul
had manifested.
The latter replied by springing up the dark staircase after
her. They thus climbed up three stories, he behind her,
touching with his hands, when he felt for the banister, a
silk dress which rubbed against each side of the staircase.
At every false step made by Raoul, his conductress cried,
"Hush!" and held out to him a soft and perfumed hand.
"One would mount thus to the belfry of the castle without
being conscious of fatigue," said Raoul.
"All of which means, monsieur, that you are very much
perplexed, very tired, and very uneasy. But be of good
cheer, monsieur; here we are, at our destination."
The girl threw open a door, which immediately, without any
transition, filled with a flood of light the landing of the
staircase, at the top of which Raoul appeared, holding fast
by the balustrade.
The girl continued to walk on -- he followed her; she
entered a chamber -- he did the same.
As soon as he was fairly in the net he heard a loud cry,
and, turning round, saw at two paces from him, with her
hands clasped and her eyes closed, that beautiful fair girl
with blue eyes and white shoulders, who, recognizing him,
called him Raoul.
He saw her, and divined at once so much love and so much joy
in the expression of her countenance, that he sank on his
knees in the middle of the chamber, murmuring, on his part,
the name of Louise.
"Ah! Montalais -- Montalais!" she sighed, "it is very wicked
to deceive me so."
"Who, I? I have deceived you?"
"Yes; you told me you would go down to inquire the news, and
you have brought up monsieur!"
"Well, I was obliged to do so -- how else could he have
received the letter you wrote him?" And she pointed with her
finger to the letter which was still upon the table.
Raoul made a step to take it; Louise, more rapid, although
she had sprung forward with a sufficiently remarkable
physical hesitation, reached out her hand to stop him. Raoul
came in contact with that trembling hand, took it within his
own, and carried it so respectfully to his lips, that he
might be said to have deposited a sigh upon it rather than a
kiss.
In the meantime Mademoiselle de Montalais had taken the
letter, folded it carefully, as women do, in three folds,
and slipped it into her bosom.
"Don't be afraid, Louise," said she; "monsieur will no more
venture to take it hence than the defunct king Louis XIII.
ventured to take billets from the corsage of Mademoiselle de
Hautefort."
Raoul blushed at seeing the smile of the two girls; and he
did not remark that the hand of Louise remained in his.
"There " said Montalais, "you have pardoned me, Louise, for
having brought monsieur to you; and you, monsieur, bear me
no malice for having followed me to see mademoiselle. Now,
then, peace being made, let us chat like old friends.
Present me, Louise, to M. de Bragelonne."
"Monsieur le Vicomte," said Louise, with her quiet grace and
ingenuous smile, "I have the honour to present to you
Mademoiselle Aure de Montalais, maid of honor to her royal
highness Madame, and moreover my friend -- my excellent
friend."
Raoul bowed ceremoniously.
"And me, Louise," said he -- "will you not present me also
to mademoiselle?"
"Oh, she knows you -- she knows all!"
This unguarded expression made Montalais laugh and Raoul
sigh with happiness, for he interpreted it thus: "She knows
all our love."
"The ceremonies being over, Monsieur le Vicomte," said
Montalais, "take a chair, and tell us quickly the news you
bring flying thus."
"Mademoiselle, it is no longer a secret; the king, on his
way to Poitiers, will stop at Blois, to visit his royal
highness."
"The king here!" exclaimed Montalais, clapping her hands.
"What! are we going to see the court? Only think, Louise --
the real court from Paris! Oh, good heavens! But when will
this happen, monsieur?"
"Perhaps this evening, mademoiselle; at latest, tomorrow."
Montalais lifted her shoulders in sign of vexation.
"No time to get ready! No time to prepare a single dress! We
are as far behind the fashions as the Poles. We shall look
like portraits of the time of Henry IV. Ah, monsieur! this
is sad news you bring us!"
"But, mesdemoiselles, you will be still beautiful!"
"That's no news! Yes, we shall be always beautiful because
nature has made us passable; but we shall be ridiculous,
because the fashion will have forgotten us. Alas!
ridiculous! I shall be thought ridiculous -- I!
"And by whom?" said Louise, innocently.
"By whom? You are a strange girl, my dear. Is that a
question to put to me? I mean everybody; I mean the
courtiers, the nobles; I mean the king."
"Pardon me, my good friend, but as here every one is
accustomed to see us as we are ---- "
"Granted; but that is about to change, and we shall be
ridiculous, even for Blois; for close to us will be seen the
fashions from Paris, and they will perceive that we are in
the fashion of Blois! It is enough to make one despair!"
"Console yourself, mademoiselle."
"Well, so let it be! After all, so much the worse for those
who do not find me to their taste!" said Montalais
philosophically.
"They would be very difficult to please," replied Raoul,
faithful to his regular system of gallantry.
"Thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte. We were saying, then, that
the king is coming to Blois?"
"With all the court."
"Mesdemoiselles de Mancini, will they be with them?"
"No, certainly not."
"But as the king, it is said, cannot do without Mademoiselle
Mary?"
"Mademoiselle, the king must do without her. M. le Cardinal
will have it so. He has exiled his nieces to Brouage."
"He! -- the hypocrite!"
"Hush!" said Louise, pressing a finger on her friend's rosy
lips.
"Bah! nobody can hear me. I say that old Mazarino Mazarini
is a hypocrite, who burns impatiently to make his niece
Queen of France."
"That cannot be, mademoiselle, since M. le Cardinal, on the
contrary, has brought about the marriage of his majesty with
the Infanta Maria Theresa."
Montalais looked Raoul full in the face, and said, "And do
you Parisians believe in these tales? Well! we are a little
more knowing than you, at Blois."
"Mademoiselle, if the king goes beyond Poitiers and sets out
for Spain, if the articles of the marriage contract are
agreed upon by Don Luis de Haro and his eminence, you must
plainly perceive that it is not child's play."
"All very fine! but the king is king, I suppose?"
"No doubt, mademoiselle; but the cardinal is the cardinal."
"The king is not a man, then! And he does not love Mary
Mancini?"
"He adores her."
"Well, he will marry her then. We shall have war with Spain.
M. Mazarin will spend a few of the millions he has put away;
our gentlemen will perform prodigies of valor in their
encounters with the proud Castilians, and many of them will
return crowned with laurels, to be recrowned by us with
myrtles. Now, that is my view of politics."
"Montalais, you are wild!" said Louise, "and every
exaggeration attracts you as light does a moth."
"Louise, you are so extremely reasonable, that you will
never know how to love."
"Oh!" said Louise, in a tone of tender reproach, "don't you
see, Montalais? The queen-mother desires to marry her son to
the Infanta; would you wish him to disobey his mother? Is it
for a royal heart like his to set such a bad example? When
parents forbid love, love must be banished."
And Louise sighed: Raoul cast down his eyes, with an
expression of constraint. Montalais, on her part, laughed
aloud.
"Well, I have no parents!" said she.
"You are acquainted, without doubt, with the state of health
of M. le Comte de la Fere?" said Louise, after breathing
that sigh which had revealed so many griefs in its eloquent
utterance.
"No, mademoiselle," replied Raoul, "I have not yet paid my
respects to my father; I was going to his house when
Mademoiselle de Montalais so kindly stopped me. I hope the
comte is well. You have heard nothing to the contrary, have
you?"
"No, M. Raoul -- nothing, thank God!"
Here, for several instants, ensued a silence, during which
two spirits, which followed the same idea, communicated
perfectly, without even the assistance of a single glance.
"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Montalais in a fright; "there is
somebody coming up."
"Who can it be?" said Louise, rising in great agitation.
"Mesdemoiselles, I inconvenience you very much. I have,
without doubt, been very indiscreet," stammered Raoul, very
ill at ease.
"It is a heavy step," said Louise.
"Ah! if it is only M. Malicorne," added Montalais, "do not
disturb yourselves."
Louise and Raoul looked at each other to inquire who M.
Malicorne could be.
"There is no occasion to mind him," continued Montalais; "he
is not jealous."
"But, mademoiselle ---" said Raoul.
"Yes, I understand. Well, he is as discreet as I am."
"Good heavens!" cried Louise, who had applied her ear to the
door, which had been left ajar, "it is my mother's step!"
"Madame de Saint-Remy! Where shall I hide myself?" exclaimed
Raoul, catching at the dress of Montalais, who looked quite
bewildered.
"Yes," said she; "yes, I know the clicking of those pattens!
It is our excellent mother. M. le Vicomte, what a pity it is
the window looks upon a stone pavement, and that fifty paces
below it."
Raoul glanced at the balcony in despair. Louise seized his
arm and held it tight.
"Oh, how silly I am!" said Montalais, "have I not the
robe-of-ceremony closet? It looks as if it were made on
purpose."
It was quite time to act; Madame de Saint-Remy was coming up
at a quicker pace than usual. She gained the landing at the
moment when Montalais, as in all scenes of surprises, shut
the closet by leaning with her back against the door.
"Ah!" cried Madame de Saint-Remy, "you are here, are you,
Louise?"
"Yes, madame," replied she, more pale than if she had
committed a great crime.
"Well, well!"
"Pray be seated, madame," said Montalais, offering her a
chair, which she placed so that the back was towards the
closet.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle Aure -- thank you. Come my child,
be quick."
"Where do you wish me to go, madame?"
"Why, home, to be sure; have you not to prepare your
toilette?"
"What did you say?" cried Montalais, hastening to affect
surprise, so fearful was she that Louise would in some way
commit herself.
"You don't know the news, then?" said Madame de Saint-Remy.
"What news, madame, is it possible for two girls to learn up
in this dove-cote?"
"What! have you seen nobody?"
"Madame, you talk in enigmas, and you torment us at a slow
fire!" cried Montalais, who, terrified at seeing Louise
become paler and paler, did not know to what saint to put up
her vows.
At length she caught an eloquent look of her companion's,
one of those looks which would convey intelligence to a
brick wall. Louise directed her attention to a hat --
Raoul's unlucky hat, which was set out in all its feathery
splendor upon the table.
Montalais sprang towards it, and, seizing it with her left
hand, passed it behind her into the right, concealing it as
she was speaking.
"Well," said Madame de Saint-Remy, "a courier has arrived,
announcing the approach of the king. There, mesdemoiselles;
there is something to make you put on your best looks."
"Quick, quick!" cried Montalais. "Follow Madame your mother,
Louise; and leave me to get ready my dress of ceremony."
Louise arose; her mother took her by the hand, and led her
out on to the landing.
"Come along," said she; then adding in a low voice, "When I
forbid you to come to the apartment of Montalais, why do you
do so?"
"Madame, she is my friend. Besides, I had but just come."
"Did you see nobody concealed while you were there?"
"Madame!"
"I saw a man's hat, I tell you -- the hat of that fellow,
that good-for-nothing!"
"Madame!" repeated Louise.
"Of that do-nothing De Malicorne! A maid of honor to have
such company -- fie! fie!" and their voices were lost in the
depths of the narrow staircase.
Montalais had not missed a word of this conversation, which
echo conveyed to her as if through a tunnel. She shrugged
her shoulders on seeing Raoul, who had listened likewise,
issue from the closet.
"Poor Montalais!" said she, "the victim of friendship! Poor
Malicorne, the victim of love!"
She stopped on viewing the tragic-comic face of Raoul, who
was vexed at having, in one day, surprised so many secrets.
"Oh, mademoiselle!" said he; "how can we repay your
kindness?"
"Oh, we will balance accounts some day," said she. "For the
present, begone, M. de Bragelonne, for Madame de Saint-Remy
is not over indulgent; and any indiscretion on her part
might bring hither a domiciliary visit, which would be
disagreeable to all parties."
"But Louise -- how shall I know ---- "
"Begone! begone! King Louis XI. knew very well what he was
about when he invented the post."
"Alas!" sighed Raoul.
"And am I not here -- I, who am worth all the posts in the
kingdom? Quick, I say, to horse! so that if Madame de
Saint-Remy should return for the purpose of preaching me a
lesson on morality, she may not find you here."
"She would tell my father, would she not?" murmured Raoul.
"And you would be scolded. Ah, vicomte, it is very plain you
come from court; you are as timid as the king. Peste! at
Blois we contrive better than that to do without papa's
consent. Ask Malicorne else!"
And at these words the girl pushed Raoul out of the room by
the shoulders. He glided swiftly down to the porch, regained
his horse, mounted, and set off as if he had had Monsieur's
guards at his heels.
