CHAPTER 4
Father and Son.
Raoul followed the well-known road, so dear to his memory,
which led from Blois to the residence of the Comte de la
Fere.
The reader will dispense with a second description of that
habitation: he, perhaps, has been with us there before, and
knows it. Only, since our last journey thither, the walls
had taken a grayer tint, and the brickwork assumed a more
harmonious copper tone; the trees had grown, and many that
then only stretched their slender branches along the tops of
the hedges, now bushy, strong, and luxuriant, cast around,
beneath boughs swollen with sap, great shadows of blossoms
of fruit for the benefit of the traveler.
Raoul perceived, from a distance, the two little turrets,
the dove-cote in the elms, and the flights of pigeons, which
wheeled incessantly around that brick cone, seemingly
without power to quit it, like the sweet memories which
hover round a spirit at peace.
As he approached, he heard the noise of the pulleys which
grated under the weight of the massy pails; he also fancied
he heard the melancholy moaning of the water which falls
back again into the wells -- a sad, funereal, solemn sound,
which strikes the ear of the child and the poet -- both
dreamers -- which the English call splash; Arabian poets,
gasgachau; and which we Frenchmen, who would be poets, can
only translate by a paraphrase -- the noise of water falling
into water.
It was more than a year since Raoul had been to visit his
father. He had passed the whole time in the household of M.
le Prince. In fact, after all the commotions of the Fronde,
of the early period of which we formerly attempted to give a
sketch, Louis de Conde had made a public, solemn, and frank
reconciliation with the court. During all the time that the
rupture between the king and the prince had lasted, the
prince, who had long entertained a great regard for
Bragelonne, had in vain offered him advantages of the most
dazzling kind for a young man. The Comte de la Fere, still
faithful to his principles of loyalty and royalty, one day
developed before his son in the vaults of Saint Denis, --
the Comte de la Fere, in the name of his son, had always
declined them. Moreover, instead of following M. de Conde in
his rebellion, the vicomte had followed M. de Turenne,
fighting for the king. Then when M. de Turenne, in his turn,
had appeared to abandon the royal cause, he had quitted M.
de Turenne, as he had quitted M. de Conde. It resulted from
this invariable line of conduct that, as Conde and Turenne
had never been conquerors of each other but under the
standard of the king, Raoul, however young, had ten
victories inscribed on his list of services, and not one
defeat from which his bravery or conscience had to suffer.
Raoul, therefore, had, in compliance with the wish of his
father, served obstinately and passively the fortunes of
Louis XIV., in spite of the tergiversations which were
endemic, and, it might be said, inevitable, at that period.
M. de Conde, on being restored to favor, had at once availed
himself of all the privileges of the amnesty to ask for many
things back again which had been granted him before, and
among others, Raoul. M. de la Fere, with his invariable good
sense, had immediately sent him again to the prince.
A year, then, had passed away since the separation of the
father and son; a few letters had softened, but not removed,
the pains of absence. We have seen that Raoul had left at
Blois another love in addition to filial love. But let us do
him this justice -- if it had not been for chance and
Mademoiselle de Montalais, two great temptations, Raoul,
after delivering his message, would have galloped off
towards his father's house, turning his head round, perhaps,
but without stopping for a single instant, even if Louise
had held out her arms to him.
So the first part of the journey was given by Raoul to
regretting the past which he had been forced to quit so
quickly, that is to say, his lady-love; and the other part
to the friend he was about to join, so much too slowly for
his wishes.
Raoul found the garden-gate open, and rode straight in,
without regarding the long arms, raised in anger, of an old
man dressed in a jacket of violet-colored wool, and a large
cap of faded velvet.
The old man, who was weeding with his hands a bed of dwarf
roses and marguerites, was indignant at seeing a horse thus
traversing his sanded and nicely-raked walks. He even
ventured a vigorous "Humph!" which made the cavalier turn
round. Then there was a change of scene; for no sooner had
he caught sight of Raoul's face, than the old man sprang up
and set off in the direction of the house, amidst
interrupted growlings, which appeared to be paroxysms of
wild delight.
When arrived at the stables, Raoul gave his horse to a
little lackey, and sprang up the perron with an ardor that
would have delighted the heart of his father.
He crossed the ante-chamber, the dining-room, and the salon,
without meeting with any one; at length, on reaching the
door of M. de la Fere's apartment, he rapped impatiently,
and entered almost without waiting for the word "Enter!"
which was vouchsafed him by a voice at once sweet and
serious. The comte was seated at a table covered with papers
and books; he was still the noble, handsome gentleman of
former days, but time had given to this nobleness and beauty
a more solemn and distinct character. A brow white and void
of wrinkles, beneath his long hair, now more white than
black; an eye piercing and mild, under the lids of a young
man; his mustache, fine but slightly grizzled, waved over
lips of a pure and delicate model, as if they had never been
curled by mortal passions; a form straight and supple; an
irreproachable but thin hand -- this was what remained of
the illustrious gentleman whom so many illustrious mouths
had praised under the name of Athos. He was engaged in
correcting the pages of a manuscript book, entirely filled
by his own hand.
Raoul seized his father by the shoulders, by the neck, as he
could, and embraced him so tenderly and so rapidly, that the
comte had neither strength nor time to disengage himself, or
to overcome his paternal emotions.
"What! you here, Raoul, -- you! Is it possible?" said he.
"Oh, monsieur, monsieur, what joy to see you once again!"
"But you don't answer me, vicomte. Have you leave of
absence, or has some misfortune happened at Paris?"
"Thank God, monsieur," replied Raoul, calming himself by
degrees, "nothing has happened but what is fortunate. The
king is going to be married, as I had the honor of informing
you in my last letter, and, on his way to Spain, he will
pass through Blois."
"To pay a visit to Monsieur?"
"Yes, monsieur le comte. So, fearing to find him unprepared,
or wishing to be particularly polite to him, monsieur le
prince sent me forward to have the lodgings ready."
"You have seen Monsieur?" asked the vicomte, eagerly.
"I have had that honor."
"At the castle?"
"Yes, monsieur," replied Raoul, casting down his eyes,
because, no doubt, he had felt there was something more than
curiosity in the comte's inquiries.
"Ah, indeed, vicomte? Accept my compliments thereupon."
Raoul bowed.
"But you have seen some one else at Blois?"
"Monsieur, I saw her royal highness, Madame."
"That's very well: but it is not Madame that I mean.'
Raoul colored deeply, but made no reply.
"You do not appear to understand me, monsieur le vicomte,"
persisted M. de la Fere, without accenting his words more
strongly, but with a rather severer look.
"I understand you quite plainly, monsieur," replied Raoul,
"and if I hesitate a little in my reply, you are well
assured I am not seeking for a falsehood."
"No, you cannot tell a lie, and that makes me so astonished
you should be so long in saying yes or no."
"I cannot answer you without understanding you very well,
and if I have understood you, you will take my first words
in ill part. You will be displeased, no doubt, monsieur le
comte, because I have seen ---- "
"Mademoiselle de la Valliere -- have you not?"
"It was of her you meant to speak, I know very well,
monsieur," said Raoul, with inexpressible sweetness.
"And I asked you if you have seen her."
"Monsieur, I was ignorant, when I entered the castle, that
Mademoiselle de la Valliere was there; it was only on my
return, after I had performed my mission, that chance
brought us together. I have had the honor of paying my
respects to her."
"But what do you call the chance that led you into the
presence of Mademoiselle de la Valliere?"
"Mademoiselle de Montalais, monsieur."
"And who is Mademoiselle de Montalais?"
"A young lady I did not know before, whom I had never seen.
She is maid of honor to Madame."
"Monsieur le vicomte, I will push my interrogatory no
further, and reproach myself with having carried it so far.
I had desired you to avoid Mademoiselle de la Valliere, and
not to see her without my permission. Oh, I am quite sure
you have told me the truth, and that you took no measures to
approach her. Chance has done me this injury; I do not
accuse you of it. I will be content then, with what I
formerly said to you concerning this young lady. I do not
reproach her with anything -- God is my witness! only it is
not my intention or wish that you should frequent her place
of residence. I beg you once more, my dear Raoul, to
understand that."
It was plain the limpid eyes of Raoul were troubled at this
speech.
"Now, my friend," said the comte, with his soft smile, and
in his customary tone, "let us talk of other matters. You
are returning, perhaps, to your duty?"
"No, monsieur, I have no duty for to-day, except the
pleasure of remaining with you. The prince kindly appointed
me no other: which was so much in accord with my wish."
"Is the king well?"
"Perfectly."
"And monsieur le prince also?"
"As usual, monsieur."
The comte forgot to inquire after Mazarin; that was an old
habit.
"Well, Raoul, since you are entirely mine, I will give up my
whole day to you. Embrace me -- again, again! You are at
home, vicomte! Ah, there is our old Grimaud! Come in,
Grimaud: monsieur le vicomte is desirous of embracing you
likewise."
The good old man did not require to be twice told; he rushed
in with open arms, Raoul meeting him halfway.
"Now, if you please, we will go into the garden, Raoul. I
will show you the new lodging I have had prepared for you
during your leave of absence, and whilst examining the last
winter's plantations and two saddle-horses I have just
acquired, you will give me all the news of our friends in
Paris."
The comte closed his manuscript, took the young man's arm,
and went out into the garden with him.
Grimaud looked at Raoul with a melancholy air as the young
man passed out; observing that his head nearly touched the
traverse of the doorway, stroking his white royale, he
slowly murmured:
"How he has grown!"
