Louise de la Valliere

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter L: In Which the Author Thinks It Is High Time to Return to theVicomte de Bragelonne.

  Our readers will have observed in this story, the adventures of the newand of the past generation being detailed, as it were, side by side. Hewill have noticed in the former, the reflection of the glory of earlieryears, the experience of the bitter things of this world; in the former,also, that peace which takes possession of the heart, and that healingof the scars which were formerly deep and painful wounds. In the latter,the conflicts of love and vanity; bitter disappointments, ineffabledelights; life instead of memory. If, therefore, any variety has beenpresented to the reader in the different episodes of this tale, it isto be attributed to the numerous shades of color which are presented onthis double tablet, where two pictures are seen side by side, minglingand harmonizing their severe and pleasing tones. The repose ofthe emotions of one is found in harmonious contrast with the fierysentiments of the other. After having talked reason with older heads,one loves to talk nonsense with youth. Therefore, if the threads ofthe story do not seem very intimately to connect the chapter we arenow writing with the one we have just written, we do not intend to giveourselves any more thought or trouble about it than Ruysdael took inpainting an autumn sky, after having finished a spring-time scene. Weaccordingly resume Raoul de Bragelonne's story at the very place whereour last sketch left him.

  In a state of frenzy and dismay, or rather without power or will ofhis own,--hardly knowing what he was doing,--he fled swiftly, after thescene in La Valliere's chamber, that strange exclusion, Louise's grief,Montalais's terror, the king's wrath--all seemed to indicate somemisfortune. But what? He had arrived from London because he had beentold of the existence of a danger; and almost on his arrival thisappearance of danger was manifest. Was not this sufficient for a lover?Certainly it was, but it was insufficient for a pure and upright heartsuch as his. And yet Raoul did not seek for explanations in the veryquarter where more jealous or less timid lovers would have done. He didnot go straightaway to his mistress, and say, "Louise, is it truethat you love me no longer? Is it true that you love another?" Full ofcourage, full of friendship as he was full of love; a religious observerof his word, and believing blindly the word of others, Raoul said withinhimself, "Guiche wrote to put me on my guard, Guiche knows something;I will go and ask Guiche what he knows, and tell him what I have seen."The journey was not a long one. Guiche, who had been brought fromFontainebleau to Paris within the last two days, was beginning torecover from his wounds, and to walk about a little in his room. Heuttered a cry of joy as he saw Raoul, with the eagerness of friendship,enter the apartment. Raoul was unable to refrain from a cry of grief,when he saw De Guiche, so pale, so thin, so melancholy. A very fewwords, and a simple gesture which De Guiche made to put aside Raoul'sarm, were sufficient to inform the latter of the truth.

  "Ah! so it is," said Raoul, seating himself beside his friend; "oneloves and dies."

  "No, no, not dies," replied Guiche, smiling, "since I am now recovering,and since, too, I can press you in my arms."

  "Ah! I understand."

  "And I understand you, too. You fancy I am unhappy, Raoul?"

  "Alas!"

  "No; I am the happiest of men. My body suffers, but not my mind or myheart. If you only knew--Oh! I am, indeed, the very happiest of men."

  "So much the better," said Raoul; "so much the better, provided itlasts."

  "It is over. I have had enough happiness to last me to my dying day,Raoul."

  "I have no doubt you have had; but she--"

  "Listen; I love her, because--but you are not listening to me."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "Your mind is preoccupied."

  "Yes, your health, in the first place--"

  "It is not that, I know."

  "My dear friend, you would be wrong. I think, to ask me anyquestions--_you_ of all persons in the world;" and he laid so muchweight upon the "you," that he completely enlightened his friend uponthe nature of the evil, and the difficulty of remedying it.

  "You say that, Raoul, on account of what I wrote to you."

  "Certainly. We will talk over that matter a little, when you havefinished telling me of all your own pleasures and your pains."

  "My dear friend, I am entirely at your service."

  "Thank you; I have hurried, I have flown here; I came in half the timethe government couriers usually take. Now, tell me, my dear friend, whatdid you want?"

  "Nothing whatever, but to make you come."

  "Well, then, I am here."

  "All is quite right, then."

  "There must have been something else, I suppose?"

  "No, indeed."

  "De Guiche!"

  "Upon my honor!"

  "You cannot possibly have crushed all my hopes so violently, or haveexposed me to being disgraced by the king for my return, which is indisobedience of his orders--you cannot, I say, have planted jealousy inmy heart, merely to say to me, 'It is all right, be perfectly easy.'"

  "I do not say to you, Raoul, 'Be perfectly easy;' but pray understandme; I never will, nor can I, indeed, tell you anything else."

  "What sort of person do you take me for?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you know anything, why conceal it from me? If you do not knowanything, why did you write so warningly?"

  "True, true, I was very wrong, and I regret having done so, Raoul. Itseems nothing to write to a friend and say 'Come;' but to have thisfriend face to face, to feel him tremble, and breathlessly and anxiouslywait to hear what one hardly dare tell him, is very difficult."

  "Dare! I have courage enough, if you have not," exclaimed Raoul, indespair.

  "See how unjust you are, and how soon you forget you have to do with apoor wounded fellow such as your unhappy friend is. So, calm yourself,Raoul. I said to you, 'Come'--you are here, so ask me nothing further."

  "Your object in telling me to come was your hope that I should see withmy own eyes, was it not? Nay, do not hesitate, for I have seen all."

  "Oh!" exclaimed De Guiche.

  "Or at least I thought--"

  "There, now, you see you are not sure. But if you have any doubt, mypoor friend, what remains for me to do?"

  "I saw Louise much agitated--Montalais in a state of bewilderment--theking--"

  "The king?"

  "Yes. You turn your head aside. The danger is there, the evil is there;tell me, is it not so, is it not the king?"

  "I say nothing."

  "Oh! you say a thousand times more than nothing. Give me facts,for pity's sake, give me proofs. My friend, the only friend I have,speak--tell me all. My heart is crushed, wounded to death; I am dyingfrom despair."

  "If that really be so, as I see it is, indeed, dear Raoul," replied DeGuiche, "you relieve me from my difficulty, and I will tell you all,perfectly sure that I can tell you nothing but what is consoling,compared to the despair from which I see you suffering."

  "Go on,--go on; I am listening."

  "Well, then, I can only tell you what you might learn from every one youmeet."

  "From every one, do you say? It is talked about, then!"

  "Before you say people talk about it, learn what it is that people haveto talk about. I assure you solemnly, that people only talk about whatmay, in truth, be very innocent; perhaps a walk--"

  "Ah! a walk with the king?"

  "Yes, certainly, a walk with the king; and I believe the king hasalready very frequently before taken walks with ladies, without on thataccount--"

  "You would not have written to me, shall I say again, if there had beennothing unusual in this promenade."

  "I know that while the storm lasted, it would have been far better ifthe king had taken shelter somewhere else, than to have remained withhis head uncovered before La Valliere; but the king is so very courteousand polite."

  "Oh! De Guiche, De Guiche, you are killing me!"

  "Do not let us talk any more, then."

  "Nay, let us continue. This walk was foll
owed by others, I suppose?"

  "No--I mean yes: there was the adventure of the oak, I think. But I knownothing about the matter at all." Raoul rose; De Guiche endeavored toimitate him, notwithstanding his weakness. "Well, I will not add anotherword: I have said either too much or not enough. Let others give youfurther information if they will, or if they can; my duty was to warnyou, and _that_ I have done. Watch over your own affairs now, yourself."

  "Question others! Alas! you are no true friend to speak to me in thatmanner," said the young man, in utter distress. "The first man I meetmay be either evilly disposed or a fool,--if the former, he will tellme a lie to make me suffer more than I do now; if the latter, he willdo worse still. Ah! De Guiche, De Guiche, before two hours are over, Ishall have been told ten falsehoods, and shall have as many duels on myhands. Save me, then; is it not best to know the worst always?"

  "But I know nothing, I tell you; I was wounded, attacked by fever: outof my senses; and I have only a very faint recollection of it all. Butthere is no reason why we should search very far, when the very man wewant is close at hand. Is not D'Artagnan your friend?"

  "Oh! true, true!"

  "Got to him, then. He will be able to throw sufficient light upon thesubject." At this moment a lackey entered the room. "What is it?" saidDe Guiche.

  "Some one is waiting for monseigneur in the Cabinet des Porcelaines."

  "Very well. Will you excuse me, my dear Raoul? I am so proud since Ihave been able to walk again."

  "I would offer you my arm, De Guiche, if I did not guess that the personin question is a lady."

  "I believe so," said De Guiche, smiling as he quitted Raoul.

  Raoul remained motionless, absorbed in grief, overwhelmed, like theminer upon whom a vault has just fallen in, who, wounded, his life-bloodwelling fast, his thoughts confused, endeavors to recover himself, tosave his life and to retain his reason. A few minutes were all Raoulneeded to dissipate the bewildering sensations occasioned by these tworevelations. He had already recovered the thread of his ideas, when,suddenly, through the door, he fancied he recognized Montalais's voicein the Cabinet des Porcelaines. "She!" he cried. "Yes, it is indeed hervoice! She will be able to tell me the whole truth; but shall I questionher here? She conceals herself even from me; she is coming, no doubt,from Madame. I will see her in her own apartment. She will explain heralarm, her flight, the strange manner in which I was driven out; shewill tell me all that--after M. d'Artagnan, who knows everything, shallhave given me a fresh strength and courage. Madame, a coquette I fear,and yet a coquette who is herself in love, has her moments of kindness;a coquette who is as capricious and uncertain as life or death, but whotells De Guiche that he is the happiest of men. He at least is lying onroses." And so he hastily quitted the comte's apartments, reproachinghimself as he went for having talked of nothing but his own affairs toDe Guiche, and soon reached D'Artagnan's quarters.