CHAPTER 78
In which we at length see the true Heroine of this History appear
Behind Madame de Saint-Remy stood Mademoiselle de la
Valliere. She heard the explosion of maternal anger, and as
she divined the cause of it, she entered the chamber
trembling, and perceived the unlucky Malicorne, whose woeful
countenance might have softened or set laughing whoever
observed it coolly. He had promptly intrenched himself
behind a large chair, as if to avoid the first attacks of
Madame de Saint-Remy; he had no hopes of prevailing with
words, for she spoke louder than he, and without stopping;
but he reckoned upon the eloquence of his gestures. The old
lady would neither listen to nor see anything; Malicorne had
long been one of her antipathies. But her anger was too
great not to overflow from Malicorne on his accomplice.
Montalais had her turn.
"And you, mademoiselle; you may be certain I shall inform
madame of what is going on in the apartment of one of her
ladies of honor!"
"Oh, dear mother!" cried Mademoiselle de la Valliere, "for
mercy's sake, spare ---- "
"Hold your tongue, mademoiselle, and do not uselessly
trouble yourself to intercede for unworthy people; that a
young maid of honor like you should be subjected to a bad
example is, certes, a misfortune great enough; but that you
should sanction it by your indulgence is what I will not
allow."
"But in truth," said Montalais, rebelling again, "I do not
know under what pretense you treat me thus. I am doing no
harm, I suppose?"
"And that great good-for-nothing, mademoiselle," resumed
Madame de Saint-Remy, pointing to Malicorne, "is he here to
do any good, I ask you?"
"He is neither here for good nor harm, madame; he comes to
see me, that is all."
"It is all very well! all very well!" said the old lady.
"Her royal highness shall be informed of it, and she will
judge."
"At all events, I do not see why," replied Montalais, "it
should be forbidden M. Malicorne to have intentions towards
me, if his intentions are honorable."
"Honorable intentions with such a face!" cried Madame de
Saint-Remy.
"I thank you in the name of my face, madame," said
Malicorne.
"Come, my daughter, come," continued Madame de Saint-Remy;
"we will go and inform madame that at the very moment she is
weeping for her husband, at the moment when we are all
weeping for a master in this old castle of Blois, the abode
of grief, there are people who amuse themselves with
flirtations!"
"Oh!" cried both the accused, with one voice.
"A maid of honor! a maid of honor!" cried the old lady,
lifting her hands towards heaven.
"Well! it is there you are mistaken, madame," said
Montalais, highly exasperated; "I am no longer a maid of
honor, of madame's at least."
"Have you given in your resignation, mademoiselle? That is
well! I cannot but applaud such a determination, and I do
applaud it."
"I do not give in my resignation, madame; I take another
service, -- that is all."
"In the bourgeoisie or in the robe?" asked Madame de
Saint-Remy, disdainfully.
"Please to learn, madame, that I am not a girl to serve
either bourgeoises or robines, and that instead of the
miserable court at which you vegetate, I am going to reside
in a court almost royal."
"Ha, ha! a royal court," said Madame de Saint-Remy, forcing
a laugh; "a royal court! What think you of that, my
daughter?"
And she turned round towards Mademoiselle de la Valliere,
whom she would by main force have dragged away from
Montalais, and who, instead of obeying the impulse of Madame
de Saint-Remy, looked first at her mother and then at
Montalais with her beautiful conciliatory eyes.
"I did not say a royal court, madame," replied Montalais;
"because Madame Henrietta of England, who is about to become
the wife of S. A. R. Monsieur, is not a queen. I said almost
royal, and I spoke correctly, since she will be
sister-in-law to the king."
A thunderbolt falling upon the castle of Blois would not
have astonished Madame de Saint-Remy more than the last
sentence of Montalais.
"What do you say? of Son Altesse Royale Madame Henrietta?"
stammered out the old lady.
"I say I am going to belong to her household, as maid of
honor, that is what I say."
"As maid of honor!" cried, at the same time, Madame de
Saint-Remy with despair, and Mademoiselle de la Valliere
with delight.
"Yes, madame, as maid of honor."
The old lady's head sank down as if the blow had been too
severe for her. But, almost immediately recovering herself,
she launched a last projectile at her adversary.
"Oh! oh!" said she, "I have heard of many of these sorts of
promises beforehand, which often lead people to flatter
themselves with wild hopes, and at the last moment, when the
time comes to keep the promises, and have the hopes
realized, they are surprised to see the great credit upon
which they reckoned vanish like smoke."
"Oh! madame, the credit of my protector is incontestable and
his promises are as good as deeds."
"And would it be indiscreet to ask you the name of this
powerful protector?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! no! it is that gentleman there," said
Montalais, pointing to Malicorne, who, during this scene,
had preserved the most imperturbable coolness, and the most
comic dignity.
"Monsieur!" cried Madame de Saint-Remy, with an explosion of
hilarity, "monsieur is your protector! Is the man whose
credit is so powerful, and whose promises are as good as
deeds, Monsieur Malicorne?"
Malicorne bowed.
As to Montalais, as her sole reply, she drew the brevet from
her pocket, and showed it to the old lady.
"Here is the brevet," said she.
At once all was over. As soon as she had cast a rapid glance
over this fortunate brevet, the good lady clasped her hands,
an unspeakable expression of envy and despair contracted her
countenance, and she was obliged to sit down to avoid
fainting. Montalais was not malicious enough to rejoice
extravagantly at her victory, or to overwhelm the conquered
enemy, particularly when that enemy was the mother of her
friend; she used then, but did not abuse, her triumph.
Malicorne was less generous; he assumed noble poses in his
fauteuil, and stretched himself out with a familiarity
which, two hours earlier, would have drawn upon him threats
of a caning.
"Maid of honor to the young madame!" repeated Madame de
Saint-Remy, still but half convinced.
"Yes, madame, and through the protection of M. Malicorne,
moreover."
"It is incredible!" repeated the old lady: "is it not
incredible, Louise?" But Louise did not reply; she was
sitting, thoughtful, almost sad; passing one hand over her
beautiful brow she sighed heavily.
"Well, but, monsieur," said Madame de Saint-Remy, all at
once, "how did you manage to obtain this post?"
"I asked for it, madame."
"Of whom?"
"One of my friends."
"And have you friends sufficiently powerful at court to give
you such proofs of their credit?"
"It appears so."
"And may one ask the name of these friends?"
"I did not say I had many friends, madame, I said I had one
friend."
And that friend is called?"
"Peste! madame, you go too far! When one has a friend as
powerful as mine, we do not publish his name in that
fashion, in open day, in order that he may be stolen from
us."
"You are right, monsieur, to be silent as to that name; for
I think it would be pretty difficult for you to tell it."
"At all events," said Montalais, "if the friend does not
exist, the brevet does, and that cuts short the question."
"Then, I conceive," said Madame de Saint-Remy, with the
gracious smile of the cat who is going to scratch, "when I
found monsieur here just now ---- "
"Well?"
"He brought you the brevet."
"Exactly, madame, you have guessed rightly."
"Well, then, nothing can be more moral or proper."
"I think so, madame."
"And I have been wrong, as it appears, in reproaching you,
mademoiselle."
"Very wrong, madame; but I am so accustomed to your
reproaches, that I pardon you these."
"In that case, let us begone, Louise; we have nothing to do
but to retire. Well!"
"Madame!" said La Valliere, starting, "did you speak?"
"You do not appear to be listening, my child."
"No, madame, I was thinking."
"About what?"
"A thousand things."
"You bear me no ill-will, at least, Louise?" cried
Montalais, pressing her hand.
"And why should I, my dear Aure?" replied the girl in a
voice soft as a flute.
"Dame!" resumed Madame de Saint-Remy; "if she did bear you a
little ill-will, poor girl, she could not be much blamed."
"And why should she bear me ill-will, good gracious?"
"It appears to me that she is of as good a family, and as
pretty as you."
"Mother! mother!" cried Louise.
"Prettier a hundred times, madame -- not of a better family;
but that does not tell me why Louise should bear me
ill-will"
"Do you think it will be very amusing for her to be buried
alive at Blois, when you are going to shine at Paris?"
"But, madame, it is not I who prevent Louise following me
thither; on the contrary, I should certainly be most happy
if she came there."
"But it appears that M. Malicorne, who is all-powerful at
court ---- "
"Ah! so much the worse, madame," said Malicorne, "every one
for himself in this poor world."
"Malicorne! Malicorne!" said Montalais. Then stooping
towards the young man: --
"Occupy Madame de Saint-Remy, either in disputing with her,
or making it up with her; I must speak to Louise." And, at
the same time, a soft pressure of the hand recompensed
Malicorne for his future obedience. Malicorne went grumbling
towards Madame de Saint-Remy, whilst Montalais said to her
friend, throwing one arm around her neck: --
"What is the matter? Tell me. Is it true that you would not
love me if I were to shine, as your mother says?"
"Oh, no!" said the young girl, with difficulty restraining
her tears; "on the contrary, I rejoice at your good
fortune."
"Rejoice! why, one would say you are ready to cry!"
"Do people never weep except from envy?"
"Oh! yes, I understand; I am going to Paris, and that word
Paris recalls to your mind a certain cavalier ---- "
"Aure!"
"A certain cavalier who formerly lived near Blois, and who
now resides at Paris."
"In truth, I know not what ails me, but I feel stifled."
"Weep, then, weep, as you cannot give me a smile!"
Louise raised her sweet face, which the tears, rolling down
one after the other, illumined like diamonds.
"Come, confess," said Montalais.
"What shall I confess?"
"What makes you weep; people don't weep without cause. I am
your friend; whatever you would wish me to do, I will do.
Malicorne is more powerful than you would think. Do you wish
to go to Paris?"
"Alas!" sighed Louise.
"Do you wish to come to Paris?"
"To remain here alone, in this old castle, I who have
enjoyed the delightful habit of listening to your songs, of
pressing your hand, of running about the park with you. Oh!
how I shall be ennuyee! how quickly I shall die!"
"Do you wish to come to Paris?"
Louise breathed another sigh.
"You do not answer me."
"What would you that I should reply?"
"Yes or no; that is not very difficult I think."
"Oh! you are very fortunate, Montalais!"
"That is to say you would like to be in my place."
Louise was silent.
"Little obstinate thing!" said Montalais; "did ever any one
keep her secrets from her friend thus? But confess that you
would like to come to Paris, confess that you are dying with
the wish to see Raoul again?"
"I cannot confess that."
"Then you are wrong."
"In what way?"
"Because ---- do you see this brevet?"
"To be sure I do."
"Well, I would have got you a similar one."
"By whose means?"
"Malicorne's."
"Aure, are you telling the truth? Is that possible?"
"Malicorne is there; and what he has done for me, he surely
can do for you."
Malicorne had heard his name pronounced twice; he was
delighted at having an opportunity of coming to a conclusion
with Madame de Saint-Remy, and he turned round: --
"What is the question, mademoiselle?"
"Come hither, Malicorne," said Montalais, with an imperious
gesture. Malicorne obeyed.
"A brevet like this," said Montalais.
"How so?"
"A brevet like this; that is plain enough.
"But ---- "
"I want one -- I must have one!"
"Oh! oh! you must have one!"
"Yes."
"It is impossible, is it not, M. Malicorne?" said Louise,
with her sweet, soft voice.
"If it is for you, mademoiselle ---- "
"For me. Yes, Monsieur Malicorne, it would be for me."
"And if Mademoiselle de Montalais asks it at the same time
---- "
"Mademoiselle de Montalais does not ask it, she requires
it."
"Well! we will endeavor to obey you, mademoiselle."
"And you will have her named?"
"We will try."
"No evasive answers. Louise de la Valliere shall be maid of
honor to Madame Henrietta within a week."
"How you talk!"
"Within a week, or else ---- "
"Well! or else?"
"You may take back your brevet, Monsieur Malicorne; I will
not leave my friend."
"Dear Montalais!"
"That is right. Keep your brevet, Mademoiselle de la
Valliere shall be a maid of honor."
"Is that true?"
"Quite true."
"I may then hope to go to Paris?"
"Depend upon it."
"Oh! Monsieur Malicorne, what joy!" cried Louise, clapping
her hands, and bounding with pleasure.
"Little dissembler!" said Montalais, "try again to make me
believe you are not in love with Raoul."
Louise blushed like a rose in June, but instead of replying,
she ran and embraced her mother. "Madame," said she, "do you
know that M. Malicorne is going to have me appointed maid of
honor?"
"M. Malicorne is a prince in disguise," replied the old
lady, "he is all-powerful, seemingly."
"Should you also like to be maid of honor?" asked Malicorne
of Madame de Saint-Remy. "Whilst I am about it, I might as
well get everybody appointed."
And upon that he went away, leaving the poor lady quite
disconcerted.
"Humph!" murmured Malicorne as he descended the stairs, --
"Humph! there goes another note of a thousand livres! but I
must get through as well as I can; my friend Manicamp does
nothing for nothing."
