CHAPTER 91
Monsieur becomes jealous of the Duke of Buckingha
While the Comte de la Fere was proceeding on his way to
Paris, accompanied by Raoul, the Palais-Royal was the
theatre wherein a scene of what Moliere would have called
excellent comedy was being performed. Four days had elapsed
since his marriage, and Monsieur, having breakfasted very
hurriedly, passed into his ante-chamber, frowning and out of
temper. The repast had not been over-agreeable. Madame had
had breakfast served in her own apartment, and Monsieur had
breakfasted almost alone; the Chevalier de Lorraine and
Manicamp were the only persons present at the meal which
lasted three-quarters of an hour without a single syllable
having been uttered. Manicamp, who was less intimate with
his royal highness than the Chevalier de Lorraine, vainly
endeavored to detect, from the expression of the prince's
face, what had made him so ill-humored. The Chevalier de
Lorraine, who had no occasion to speculate about anything,
inasmuch as he knew all, ate his breakfast with that
extraordinary appetite which the troubles of one's friends
but stimulates, and enjoyed at the same time both Monsieur's
ill-humor and the vexation of Manicamp. He seemed delighted,
while he went on eating, to detain the prince, who was very
impatient to move, still at table. Monsieur at times
repented the ascendancy which he had permitted the Chevalier
de Lorraine to acquire over him, and which exempted the
latter from any observance of etiquette towards him.
Monsieur was now in one of those moods, but he dreaded as
much as he liked the chevalier, and contented himself with
nursing his anger without betraying it. Every now and then
Monsieur raised his eyes to the ceiling, then lowered them
towards the slices of pate which the chevalier was
attacking, and finally, not caring to betray his resentment,
he gesticulated in a manner which Harlequin might have
envied. At last, however, Monsieur could control himself no
longer, and at the dessert, rising from the table in
excessive wrath, as we have related, he left the Chevalier
de Lorraine to finish his breakfast as he pleased. Seeing
Monsieur rise from the table, Manicamp, napkin in hand, rose
also. Monsieur ran rather than walked, towards the
ante-chamber, where, noticing an usher in attendance, he
gave him some directions in a low tone of voice. Then
turning back again, but avoiding passing through the
breakfast apartment, he crossed several rooms, with the
intention of seeking the queen-mother in her oratory, where
she usually remained.
It was about ten o'clock in the morning. Anne of Austria was
engaged in writing as Monsieur entered. The queen-mother was
extremely attached to her son, for he was handsome in person
and amiable in disposition. He was, in fact, more
affectionate, and, it might be, more effeminate than the
king. He pleased his mother by those trifling sympathizing
attentions all women are glad to receive. Anne of Austria,
who would have been rejoiced to have had a daughter, almost
found in this, her favorite son, the attentions, solicitude,
and playful manners of a child of twelve years of age. All
the time he passed with his mother he employed in admiring
her arms, in giving his opinion upon her cosmetics, and
receipts for compounding essences, in which she was very
particular; and then, too, he kissed her hands and cheeks in
the most childlike and endearing manner, and had always some
sweetmeats to offer her, or some new style of dress to
recommend. Anne of Austria loved the king, or rather the
regal power in her eldest son; Louis XIV. represented
legitimacy by right divine. With the king, her character was
that of the queen-mother, with Philip she was simply the
mother. The latter knew that, of all places of refuge, a
mother's heart is the most compassionate and surest. When
quite a child he always fled there for refuge when he and
his brother quarrelled, often, after having struck him,
which constituted the crime of high treason on his part,
after certain engagements with hands and nails, in which the
king and his rebellious subject indulged in their
night-dresses respecting the right to a disputed bed, having
their servant Laporte as umpire, -- Philip, conqueror, but
terrified at victory, used to flee to his mother to obtain
reinforcements from her, or at least the assurance of
forgiveness, which Louis XIV. granted with difficulty, and
after an interval. Anne, from this habit of peaceable
intervention, succeeded in arranging the disputes of her
sons, and in sharing, at the same time, all their secrets.
The king, somewhat jealous of that maternal solicitude which
was bestowed particularly upon his brother, felt disposed to
show towards Anne of Austria more submission and attachment
than his character really dictated. Anne of Austria had
adopted this line of conduct especially towards the young
queen. In this manner she ruled with almost despotic sway
over the royal household, and she was already preparing her
batteries to govern with the same absolute authority the
household of her second son. Anne experienced almost a
feeling of pride whenever she saw any one enter her
apartment with woe-begone looks, pale cheeks, or red eyes,
gathering from appearances that assistance was required
either by the weakest or the most rebellious. She was
writing, we have said, when Monsieur entered her oratory,
not with red eyes or pale cheeks, but restless, out of
temper, and annoyed. With an absent air he kissed his
mother's hands, and sat himself down before receiving her
permission to do so. Considering the strict rules of
etiquette established at the court of Anne of Austria, this
forgetfulness of customary civilities was a sign of
preoccupation, especially on Philip's part, who, of his own
accord, observed a respect towards her of a somewhat
exaggerated character. If, therefore, he so notoriously
failed in this regard, there must be a serious cause for it.
"What is the matter, Philip?" inquired Anne of Austria,
turning towards her son.
"A good many things," murmured the prince, in a doleful tone
of voice.
"You look like a man who has a great deal to do," said the
queen, laying down her pen. Philip frowned, but did not
reply. "Among the various subjects which occupy your mind,"
said Anne of Austria, "there must surely be one that absorbs
it more than others."
"One indeed has occupied me more than any other."
"Well, what is it? I am listening."
Philip opened his mouth as if to express all the troubles
his mind was filled with, and which he seemed to be waiting
only for an opportunity of declaring. But he suddenly became
silent, and a sigh alone expressed all that his heart was
overflowing with.
"Come, Philip, show a little firmness," said the
queen-mother. "When one has to complain of anything, it is
generally an individual who is the cause of it. Am I not
right?"
"I do not say no, madame."
"Whom do you wish to speak about? Come, take courage."
"In fact, madame, what I might possibly have to say must be
kept a profound secret; for when a lady is in the case ----
"
"Ah! you are speaking of Madame, then?" inquired the
queen-mother, with a feeling of the liveliest curiosity.
"Yes."
"Well, then, if you wish to speak of Madame, do not hesitate
to do so. I am your mother, and she is no more than a
stranger to me. Yet, as she is my daughter-in-law, rest
assured I shall be interested, even were it for your own
sake alone, in hearing all you may have to say about her."
"Pray tell me, madame, in your turn, whether you have not
remarked something?"
"`Something'! Philip? Your words almost frighten me, from
their want of meaning. What do you mean by `something'?"
"Madame is pretty, certainly."
"No doubt of it."
"Yet not altogether beautiful."
"No, but as she grows older, she will probably become
strikingly beautiful. You must have remarked the change
which a few years have already made in her. Her beauty will
improve more and more; she is now only sixteen years of age.
At fifteen I was, myself, very thin; but even as she is at
present, Madame is very pretty."
"And consequently others have remarked it."
"Undoubtedly, for a woman of ordinary rank is noticed -- and
with still greater reason a princess."
"She has been well brought up, I suppose?"
"Madame Henrietta, her mother, is a woman somewhat cold in
manner, slightly pretentious, but full of noble thoughts.
The princess's education may have been neglected, but her
principles, I believe, are good. Such at least was the
opinion I formed of her when she resided in France; but she
afterwards returned to England, and I am ignorant what may
have occurred there."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply that there are some heads naturally giddy, which are
easily turned by prosperity."
"That is the very word, madame. I think the princess rather
giddy."
"We must not exaggerate, Philip; she is clever and witty,
and has a certain amount of coquetry very natural in a young
woman; but this defect in persons of high rank and position
is a great advantage at a court. A princess who is tinged
with coquetry usually forms a brilliant court around her;
her smile stimulates luxury, arouses wit, and even courage;
the nobles, too, fight better for a prince whose wife is
beautiful."
"Thank you extremely, madame," said Philip, with some
temper; "you really have drawn some very alarming pictures
for me."
"In what respect?" asked the queen, with pretended
simplicity.
"You know, madame," said Philip, dolefully, "whether I had
or had not a very great dislike to getting married."
"Now, indeed, you alarm me. You have some serious cause of
complaint against Madame."
"I do not precisely say it is serious."
"In that case, then, throw aside your doleful looks. If you
show yourself to others in your present state, people will
take you for a very unhappy husband."
"The fact is," replied Philip, "I am not altogether
satisfied as a husband, and I shall not be sorry if others
know it."
"For shame, Philip."
"Well, then, madame, I will tell you frankly that I do not
understand the life I am required to lead."
"Explain yourself."
"My wife does not seem to belong to me; she is always
leaving me for some reason or another. In the mornings there
are visits, correspondences, and toilettes; in the evenings,
balls and concerts."
"You are jealous, Philip."
"I! Heaven forbid. Let others act the part of a jealous
husband, not I. But I am annoyed."
"All these things you reproach your wife with are perfectly
innocent, and, so long as you have nothing of greater
importance ---- "
"Yet, listen; without being very blamable, a woman can
excite a good deal of uneasiness. Certain visitors may be
received, certain preferences shown, which expose young
women to remark, and which are enough to drive out of their
senses even those husbands who are least disposed to be
jealous."
"Ah! now we are coming to the real point at last, and not
without some difficulty. You speak of frequent visits, and
certain preferences -- very good; for the last hour we have
been beating about the bush, and at last you have broached
the true question. This is more serious than I thought. It
is possible, then, that Madame can have given you grounds
for these complaints against her?"
"Precisely so."
"What, your wife, married only four days ago, prefers some
other person to yourself? Take care, Philip, you exaggerate
your grievances; in wishing to prove everything, you prove
nothing."
The prince, bewildered by his mother's serious manner wished
to reply, but he could only stammer out some unintelligible
words.
"You draw back, then?" said Anne of Austria. "I prefer that,
as it is an acknowledgment of your mistake."
"No!" exclaimed Philip, "I do not draw back, and I will
prove all I asserted. I spoke of preference and of visits,
did I not? Well, listen."
Anne of Austria prepared herself to listen, with that love
of gossip which the best woman living and the best mother,
were she a queen even, always finds in being mixed up with
the petty squabbles of a household.
"Well," said Philip, "tell me one thing."
"What is that?"
"Why does my wife retain an English court about her?" said
Philip, as he crossed his arms and looked his mother
steadily in the face, as if he were convinced that she could
not answer the question.
"For a very simple reason," returned Anne of Austria;
"because the English are her countrymen, because they have
expended large sums in order to accompany her to France, and
because it would be hardly polite -- not politic, certainly
-- to dismiss abruptly those members of the English nobility
who have not shrunk from any devotion or from any
sacrifice."
"A wonderful sacrifice indeed," returned Philip, "to desert
a wretched country to come to a beautiful one, where a
greater effect can be produced for a crown than can be
procured elsewhere for four! Extraordinary devotion, really,
to travel a hundred leagues in company with a woman one is
in love with!"
"In love, Philip! think what you are saying. Who is in love
with Madame?"
"The Duke of Buckingham. Perhaps you will defend him, too."
Anne of Austria blushed and smiled at the same time. The
name of the Duke of Buckingham recalled certain
recollections of a very tender and melancholy nature. "The
Duke of Buckingham?" she murmured.
"Yes; one of those arm-chair soldiers ---- "
"The Buckinghams are loyal and brave," said Anne of Austria,
courageously.
"This is too bad; my own mother takes the part of my wife's
lover against me," exclaimed Philip, incensed to such an
extent that his weak organization was effected almost to
tears.
"Philip, my son," exclaimed Anne of Austria, "such an
expression is unworthy of you. Your wife has no lover and,
had she one, it would not be the Duke of Buckingham. The
members of that family, I repeat are loyal and discreet, and
the rights of hospitality are sure to be respected by them."
"The Duke of Buckingham is an Englishman, madame," said
Philip; "and may I ask if the English so very religiously
respect what belongs to princes of France?"
Anne blushed a second time, and turned aside under the
pretext of taking her pen from her desk again, but in
reality to conceal her confusion from her son. "Really,
Philip," she said, "you seem to discover expressions for the
purpose of embarrassing me, and your anger blinds you while
it alarms me; reflect a little."
"There is no need for reflection, madame. I can see with my
own eyes."
"Well, and what do you see?"
"That Buckingham never quits my wife. He presumes to make
presents to her, and she ventures to accept them. Yesterday
she was talking about sachets a la violette; well, our
French perfumers, you know very well, madame, for you have
over and over again asked for it without success -- our
French perfumers, I say, have never been able to procure
this scent. The duke, however, wore about him a sachet a la
violette, and I am sure that the one my wife has came from
him."
"Indeed, monsieur," said Anne of Austria, "you build your
pyramids on needle points; be careful. What harm, I ask you,
can there be in a man giving to his countrywoman a receipt
for a new essence? These strange ideas, I protest, painfully
recall your father to me; he who so frequently and so
unjustly made me suffer."
"The Duke of Buckingham's father was probably more reserved
and more respectful than his son," said Philip,
thoughtlessly, not perceiving how deeply he had wounded his
mother's feelings. The queen turned pale, and pressed her
clenched hands upon her bosom; but, recovering herself
immediately, she said, "You came here with some intention or
another, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"What was it?"
"I came, madame, intending to complain energetically, and to
inform you that I will not submit to such behavior from the
Duke of Buckingham."
"What do you intend to do, then?"
"I shall complain to the king."
"And what do you expect the king to reply?"
"Very well, then," said Monsieur, with an expression of
stern determination on his countenance, which offered a
singular contrast to its usual gentleness. "Very well. I
will right myself!"
"What do you call righting yourself?" inquired Anne of
Austria, in alarm.
"I will have the Duke of Buckingham quit the princess, I
will have him quit France, and I will see that my wishes are
intimated to him."
"You will intimate nothing of the kind, Philip," said the
queen, "for if you act in that manner, and violate
hospitality to that extent, I will invoke the severity of
the king against you."
"Do you threaten me, madame?" exclaimed Philip, almost in
tears; "do you threaten me in the midst of my complaints!"
"I do not threaten you; I do but place an obstacle in the
path of your hasty anger. I maintain that, to adopt towards
the Duke of Buckingham, or any other Englishman, any
rigorous measure -- to take even a discourteous step towards
him, would be to plunge France and England into the most
disastrous disagreement. Can it be possible that a prince of
the blood, the brother of the king of France, does not know
how to hide an injury, even did it exist in reality, where
political necessity requires it?" Philip made a movement.
"Besides," continued the queen, "the injury is neither true
nor possible, and it is merely a matter of silly jealousy."
"Madame, I know what I know."
"Whatever you may know, I can only advise you to be
patient."
"I am not patient by disposition, madame."
The queen rose, full of severity, and with an icy
ceremonious manner. "Explain what you really require,
monsieur," she said.
"I do not require anything, madame; I simply express what I
desire. If the Duke of Buckingham does not, of his own
accord, discontinue his visits to my apartments I shall
forbid him entrance."
"That is a point you will refer to the king," said Anne of
Austria, her heart swelling as she spoke, and her voice
trembling with emotion.
"But, madame," exclaimed Philip, striking his hands
together, "act as my mother and not as the queen, since I
speak to you as a son; it is simply a matter of a few
minutes' conversation between the duke and myself."
"It is that very conversation I forbid," said the queen,
resuming her authority, "because it is unworthy of you."
"Be it so; I will not appear in the matter, but I shall
intimate my will to Madame."
"Oh!" said the queen-mother, with a melancholy arising from
reflection, "never tyrannize over a wife -- never behave too
haughtily or imperiously towards your own. A woman
unwillingly convinced is unconvinced."
"What is to be done, then? -- I will consult my friends
about it."
"Yes, your double-dealing advisers, your Chevalier de
Lorraine -- your De Wardes. Intrust the conduct of this
affair to me. You wish the Duke of Buckingham to leave, do
you not?"
"As soon as possible, madame."
"Send the duke to me, then; smile upon your wife, behave to
her, to the king, to every one, as usual. But follow no
advice but mine. Alas! I too well know what any household
comes to that is troubled by advisers."
"You shall be obeyed, madame."
"And you will be satisfied at the result. Send the duke to
me."
"That will not be difficult."
"Where do you suppose him to be?"
"At my wife's door, whose levee he is probably awaiting."
"Very well." said Anne of Austria, calmly. "Be good enough
to tell the duke that I shall be charmed if he will pay me a
visit."
Philip kissed his mother's hand, and started off to find the
Duke of Buckingham.
