CHAPTER IV.
THE SHOWER OF RAIN.
At this moment, and in the same direction, too, that the king and LaValliere were proceeding, except that they were walking in the wooditself instead of following the path, two men were walking together,utterly indifferent to the appearance of the heavens. Their heads werebent down in the manner of people occupied with matters of greatmoment. They had not observed either De Guiche or Madame, or the kingor La Valliere. Suddenly something passed through the air like a streamof fire, followed by a loud but distant rumbling noise.
"Ah!" said one of them, raising his head, "here is the storm. Let usreach our carriages, my dear D'Herblay."
Aramis looked inquiringly at the heavens. "There is no occasion to hurryyet," he said; and then, resuming the conversation where it haddoubtlessly been interrupted, he said, "You were observing that theletter we wrote last evening must by this time have reached itsdestination?"
"I was saying that she certainly has it."
"Whom did you send it by?"
"By my own servant, as I have already told you."
"Did he bring back an answer?"
"I have not seen him since; the young girl was probably in attendance onMadame, or was in her own room dressing, and he may have had to wait.Our time for leaving arrived, and we set off, of course: I cannot,therefore, know what is going on yonder."
"Did you see the king before leaving?"
"Yes."
"How did he seem?"
"Nothing could be better, or worse; according as he be sincere orhypocritical."
"And the _fete_?"
"Will take place in a month."
"He invited himself, you say?"
"With a pertinacity in which I detected Colbert's influence. But has notlast night removed your illusions?"
"What illusions?"
"With respect to the assistance you may be able to give me in thiscircumstance."
"No; I have passed the night writing, and all my orders are given."
"Do not conceal it from yourself, D'Herblay, but the _fete_ will costsome millions."
"I will give six, do you on your side get two or three."
"You are a wonderful man, my dear D'Herblay."
Aramis smiled.
"But," inquired Fouquet, with some remaining uneasiness, "how is itthat, while now you are squandering millions in this manner, a few daysago you did not pay the fifty thousand francs to Baisemeaux out of yourown pocket?"
"Because a few days ago I was as poor as Job."
"And to-day?"
"To-day I am wealthier than the king himself."
"Very well," said Fouquet; "I understand men pretty well; I know youare incapable of forfeiting your word; I do not wish to wrest yoursecret from you, and so let us talk no more about it."
At this moment a dull, heavy rumbling was heard, which suddenly burstforth in a violent clap of thunder.
"Oh, oh!" said Fouquet, "I was quite right in what I said."
"Come," said Aramis, "let us rejoin the carriages."
"We shall not have time," said Fouquet, "for here comes the rain."
In fact, as he spoke, and as if the heavens were opened, a shower oflarge drops of rain was suddenly heard falling on the trees about them.
"We shall have time," said Aramis, "to reach the carriages before thefoliage becomes saturated."
"It will be better," said Fouquet, "to take shelter somewhere--in agrotto, for instance."
"Yes, but where are we to find a grotto?" inquired Aramis.
"I know one," said Fouquet, smiling, "not ten paces from here." Thenlooking round about him, he added: "Yes, we are quite right."
"You are very fortunate to have so good a memory said Aramis," smiling inhis turn; "but are you not afraid that your coachman, finding we do notreturn, will suppose we have taken another road back, and that he willnot follow the carriages belonging to the court?"
"Oh, there is no fear of that," said Fouquet; "whenever I place mycoachman and my carriage in any particular spot, nothing but an expressorder from the king could stir them; and more than that, too, it seemsthat we are not the only ones who have come so far, for I hear footstepsand the sound of voices."
As he spoke, Fouquet, turning round, opened with his cane a mass offoliage which hid the path from his view. Aramis' glance as well as hisown plunged at the same moment through the opening he had made.
"A woman," said Aramis.
"And a man," said Fouquet.
"It is La Valliere and the king," they both exclaimed together.
"Oh, oh!" said Aramis, "is his majesty aware of your cavern as well? Ishould not be astonished if he were, for he seems to be on very goodterms with the nymphs of Fontainebleau."
"It matters little," said Fouquet; "let us get there; if he is not awareof it we shall see what he will do; if he should know it, as it has twoentrances, while he enters by one, we can leave by the other."
"Is it far?" asked Aramis, "for the rain is beginning to penetrate."
"We are there now," said Fouquet, as he put aside a few branches, and anexcavation of the rock could be observed, which had been entirelyconcealed by heaths, ivy, and a thick covert of small shrubs.
Fouquet led the way, followed by Aramis; but as the latter entered thegrotto, he turned round, saying: "Yes, they are now entering the wood;and, see, they are bending their steps this way."
"Very well; let us make room for them," said Fouquet, smiling andpulling Aramis by his cloak; "but I do not think the king knows of mygrotto."
"Yes," said Aramis, "they are looking about them, but it is only for athicker tree."
Aramis was not mistaken, the king's looks were directed upward, and notaround him. He held La Valliere's arm within his own, and held her handin his. La Valliere's feet began to slip on the damp grass. Louis againlooked round him with greater attention than before, and perceiving anenormous oak with wide-spreading branches, he hurriedly drew LaValliere beneath its protecting shelter. The poor girl looked round heron all sides, and seemed half afraid, half desirous, of being followed.The king made her lean her back against the trunk of the tree, whosevast circumference, protected by the thickness of the foliage, was asdry as if at that moment the rain had not been falling in torrents. Hehimself remained standing before her with his head uncovered. After afew minutes, however, some drops of rain penetrated through the branchesof the tree and fell on the king's forehead, who did not pay anyattention to it.
"Oh, sire!" murmured La Valliere, pushing the king's hat toward him. Butthe king simply bowed, and determinedly refused to cover his head.
"Now or never is the time to offer your place," said Fouquet in Aramis'ear.
"Now or never is the time to listen, and not lose a syllable of whatthey may have to say to each other," replied Aramis in Fouquet's ear.
In fact, they both remained perfectly silent, and the king's voicereached them where they were.
"Believe me," said the king, "I perceive, or rather I can imagine youruneasiness; believe how sincerely I regret to have isolated you from therest of the company, and to have brought you, also, to a spot where youwill be inconvenienced by the rain. You are wet already, and perhaps arecold, too?"
"No, sire."
"And yet you tremble?"
"I am afraid, sire, that my absence may be misinterpreted; at a moment,too, when all the others are reunited."
"I would not hesitate to propose returning to the carriages,Mademoiselle de la Valliere, but pray look and listen, and tell me if itbe possible to attempt to make the slightest progress at the present?"
In fact the thunder was still rolling, and the rain continued to fall intorrents.
"Besides," continued the king, "no possible interpretation can be madewhich would be to your discredit. Are you not with the king of France;in other words, with the first gentleman of the kingdom?"
"Certainly, sire," replied La Valliere, "and it is a very distinguishedhonor for me; it is not, therefore, for myself that I fear theinterpreta
tions that may be made."
"For whom, then?"
"For yourself, sire."
"For me?" said the king, smiling; "I do not understand you."
"Has your majesty already forgotten what took place yesterday evening inher highness's apartments?"
"Oh! forget that, I beg, or allow me to remember it for no other purposethan to thank you once more for your letter, and--"
"Sire," interrupted La Valliere, "the rain is falling, and yourmajesty's head is uncovered."
"I entreat you not to think of anything but yourself."
"Oh! I," said La Valliere, smiling, "I am a country girl, accustomed toroaming through the meadows of the Loire and the gardens of Blois,whatever the weather may be. And, as for my clothes," she added, lookingat her simple muslin dress, "your majesty sees they do not run muchrisk."
"Indeed, I have already noticed, more than once, that you owed nearlyeverything to yourself and nothing to your toilet. Your freedom fromcoquetry is one of your greatest charms in my eyes."
"Sire, do not make me out better than I am, and say merely, 'You cannotbe a coquette.'"
"Why so?"
"Because," said La Valliere, smiling, "I am not rich."
"You admit, then," said the king, quickly, "that you have a love forbeautiful things?"
"Sire, I only regard those things as beautiful which are within myreach. Everything which is too highly placed for me--"
"You are indifferent to?"
"Is foreign to me, as being prohibited."
"And I," said the king, "do not find that you are at my court on thefooting you should be. The services of your family have not beensufficiently brought under my notice. The advancement of your family hasbeen cruelly neglected by my uncle."
"On the contrary, sire. His royal highness, the Duke of Orleans, hadalways been exceedingly kind toward M. de Saint-Remy, my father-in-law.The services rendered were humble, and, properly speaking, our serviceshave been adequately recognized. It is not every one who is happy enoughto find opportunities of serving his sovereign with distinction. I haveno doubt at all, that, if ever opportunities had been met with, myfamily's actions would; but that happiness has never been ours."
"In that case, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, it belongs to kings torepair the want of opportunity, and most delightedly do I undertake torepair, in your instance, and with the least possible delay, the wrongsof fortune toward you."
"Nay, sire," cried La Valliere, eagerly; "leave things, I beg, as theynow are."
"Is it possible! you refuse what I ought, and what I wish to do foryou?"
"All I desired has been granted me, when the honor was conferred upon meof forming one of Madame's household."
"But if you refuse for yourself, at least accept for your family."
"Your generous intention, sire, bewilders and makes me apprehensive,for, in doing for my family what your kindness urges you to do, yourmajesty will raise up enemies for us, and enemies for yourself too.Leave me in my mediocrity, sire; of all the feelings and sentiments Iexperience, leave me to enjoy that pleasing delicacy ofdisinterestedness."
"The sentiments you express," said the king, "are indeed admirable."
"Quite true," murmured Aramis in Fouquet's ear, "and he cannot beaccustomed to them."
"But," replied Fouquet, "suppose she were to make a similar reply to myletter."
"True!" said Aramis, "let us not anticipate, but wait the conclusion."
"And then, dear Monsieur d'Herblay," added the surintendant, hardly ableto appreciate the sentiments which La Valliere had just expressed, "itis very often a sound calculation to seem disinterested with monarchs."
"Exactly what I was thinking this very minute," said Aramis. "Let uslisten."
The king approached nearer to La Valliere, and as the rain dripped moreand more through the foliage of the oak, he held his hat over the headof the young girl, who raised her beautiful blue eyes toward the royalhat which sheltered her, and shook her head, sighing deeply as she didso.
"What melancholy thought," said the king, "can possibly reach your heartwhen I place mine as a rampart before it?"
"I will tell you, sire. I had already once before broached thisquestion, which is so difficult for a young girl of my age to discuss,but your majesty imposed silence on me. Your majesty belongs not toyourself alone, you are married; and every sentiment which wouldseparate your majesty from the queen, in leading your majesty to takenotice of me, will be a source of the profoundest sorrow for the queen."The king endeavored to interrupt the young girl, but she continued witha suppliant gesture. "The Queen Maria, with an attachment which can beso well understood, follows with her eyes every step of your majestywhich separates you from her. Happy enough in having had her fate unitedto your own, she weepingly implores Heaven to preserve you to her, andis jealous of the faintest throb of your heart bestowed elsewhere." Theking again seemed anxious to speak, but again did La Valliere venture toprevent him.--"Would it not, therefore, be a most blameable action," shecontinued, "if your majesty, a witness of this anxious and disinterestedaffection, gave the queen any cause for her jealousy? Forgive me, sire,for the expression I have used. I well know it is impossible, or ratherthat it would be impossible, that the greatest queen of the whole worldcould be jealous of a poor girl like myself. But, though a queen, she isstill a woman, and her heart, like that of any of her sex, cannot closeitself against the suspicions which such as are evilly disposedinsinuate. For Heaven's sake, sire, think no more of me, I am unworthyof your regard."
"Do you know that in speaking as you have done you change my esteem foryou into admiration?"
"Sire, you assume my words to be contrary to the truth; you suppose meto be better than I really am, and attach a greater merit to me than Godever intended should be the case. Spare me, sire; for, did I not knowthat your majesty was the most generous man in your kingdom, I shouldbelieve you were jesting."
"You do not, I know, fear such a thing; I am quite sure of that,"exclaimed Louis.
"I shall be obliged to believe it, if your majesty continues to holdsuch language toward me."
"I am most unhappy, then," said the king, in a tone of regret which wasnot assumed: "I am the unhappiest prince in the whole Christian world,since I am powerless to induce belief in my words in one whom I love thebest in the wide world, and who almost breaks my heart by refusing tocredit my regard for her."
"Oh, sire!" said La Valliere, gently putting the king aside, who hadapproached nearer to her, "I think the storm has passed away now, andthe rain has ceased." At the very moment, however, as the poor girl,fleeing, as it were, from her own heart, which doubtlessly throbbed toomuch in unison with the king's, uttered these words, the storm undertookto contradict her. A bluish flash of lightning illumined the forest witha wild, weird-like glare, and a peal of thunder, like a discharge ofartillery, burst over their very heads, as if the height of the oakwhich sheltered them had attracted the storm. The young girl could notrepress a cry of terror. The king with one hand drew her toward hisheart, and stretched the other above her head, as though to shield herfrom the lightning. A moment's silence ensued, as the group, delightfulas everything young and loving is delightful, remained motionless, whileFouquet and Aramis contemplated it in attitudes as motionless as LaValliere and the king. "Oh, sire, sire!" murmured La Valliere, "do youhear?" and her head fell upon his shoulder.
"Yes," said the king. "You see the storm has not passed away."
"It is a warning, sire." The king smiled. "Sire, it is the voice ofHeaven in anger."
"Be it so," said the king. "I agree to accept that peal of thunder as awarning, and even as a menace, if, in five minutes from the presentmoment, it is renewed with equal violence; but if not, permit me tothink that the storm is a storm simply, and nothing more." And the king,at the same moment, raised his head, as if to interrogate the heavens.But, as if the remark had been heard and accepted, during the fiveminutes which elapsed after the burst of thunder which had alarmed themno renewed repeal wa
s heard; and when the thunder was again heard, itwas passing away in so audible a manner, as if, during those same fiveminutes, the storm, put to flight, had traversed the heavens with thespeed of the wings of the wind. "Well, Louise," said the king, in a lowtone of voice, "will you still threaten me with the anger of Heaven?and, since you wished to regard the storm as a presentiment, will youstill believe that presentiment to be one of misfortune?"
The young girl looked up, and saw that while they had been talking therain had penetrated the foliage above them, and was trickling down theking's face. "Oh, sire, sire!" she exclaimed, in accents of eagerapprehension, which greatly agitated the king. "It is for me," shemurmured, "that the king remains thus uncovered, and exposed to therain. What am I, then?"
"You are, you perceive," said the king, "the divinity who dissipates thestorm, and brings back fine weather." In fact, a ray of sunlightstreamed through the forest, and caused the rain-drops which rested uponthe leaves, or fell vertically among the openings in the branches of thetrees, to glisten like diamonds.
"Sire," said La Valliere, almost overcome, but making a powerful effortover herself, "think of the anxieties your majesty will have to submitto on my account. At this very moment they are seeking you in everydirection. The queen must be full of uneasiness; and Madame--oh,Madame!" the young girl exclaimed, with an expression which almostresembled terror.
This name had a certain effect upon the king. He started, and disengagedhimself from La Valliere, whom he had, till that moment, held pressedagainst his heart. He then advanced toward the path, in order to lookround, and returned, somewhat thoughtfully, to La Valliere. "Madame, didyou say?" he remarked.
"Yes, Madame; she, too, is jealous," said La Valliere, with a markedtone of voice; and her eyes, so timorous in their expression, and somodestly fugitive in their glance, for a moment ventured to lookinquiringly in the king's eyes.
"Still," returned Louis, making an effort over himself, "it seems to methat Madame has no reason, no right to be jealous of me."
"Alas!" murmured La Valliere.
"Are you, too," said the king, almost in a tone of reproach, "are youamong those who think the sister has a right to be jealous of thebrother?"
"It is not for me, sire, to penetrate your majesty's secrets."
"You do believe it, then?" exclaimed the king.
"I do believe Madame is jealous, sire," La Valliere replied, firmly.
"Is it possible," said the king, with some anxiety, "that you haveperceived it, then, from her conduct toward you? Have her manners in anyway been such toward you that you can attribute them to the jealousy youspeak of?"
"Not at all, sire; I am of so little importance."
"Oh! if it were really the case--" exclaimed Louis, violently.
"Sire," interrupted the young girl, "it has ceased raining; some one iscoming, I think." And, forgetful of all etiquette, she had seized theking by the arm.
"Well," replied the king, "let them come. Who is there who would ventureto think I had done wrong in remaining alone with Mademoiselle de laValliere?"
"For pity's sake, sire! they will think it strange to see you wetthrough in this manner, and that you should have run such risk for me."
"I have simply done my duty as a gentleman," said Louis; "and woe to himwho may fail in his, in criticising his sovereign's conduct." In fact,at this moment, a few eager and curious faces were seen in the walk, asif engaged in a search, and who, observing the king and La Valliere,seemed to have found what they were seeking. They were some of thecourtiers who had been sent by the queen and Madame, and who immediatelyuncovered themselves, in token of having perceived his majesty. ButLouis, notwithstanding La Valliere's confusion, did not quit hisrespectful and tender attitude. Then, when all the courtiers wereassembled in the walk--when every one had been able to perceive the markof deference with which he had treated the young girl, by remainingstanding and bareheaded during the storm--he offered her his arm, ledher toward the group who were waiting, recognized by an inclination ofthe head the respectful salutations which were paid him on all sides;and, still holding his hat in his hand, he conducted her to hercarriage. And, as the rain still continued to fall--a last adieu of thedisappearing storm--the other ladies, whom respect had prevented gettinginto their carriages before the king, remained, and altogetherunprotected by hood and cloak, exposed to the rain from which the king,with his hat over her, was protecting, as much as he was able, thehumblest among them. The queen and Madame must, like the others, havewitnessed this exaggerated courtesy of the king. Madame was sodisconcerted at it that she touched the queen with her elbow, saying atthe same time, "Look there, look there!"
The queen closed her eyes, as if she had been suddenly seized with afainting attack. She lifted her hand to her face and entered hercarriage, Madame following her. The king again mounted his horse, andwithout showing a preference for any particular carriage-door, hereturned to Fontainebleau, the reins hanging over his horse's neck,absorbed in thought. As soon as the crowd had disappeared, and the soundof the horses and carriages grew fainter in the distance, and when theywere certain, in fact, that no one could see them, Aramis and Fouquetcame out of their grotto, and both of them in silence passed slowly ontoward the walk. Aramis looked most narrowly not only at the wholeextent of the open space stretching out before and behind him, but eveninto the very depths of the wood.
"Monsieur Fouquet," he said, when he had quite satisfied himself thatthey were alone, "we must get back, at any cost, the letter you wrote toLa Valliere."
"That will be easy enough," said Fouquet, "if my servant has not givenit to her."
"In any case, it must be done; do you understand?"
"Yes; the king is in love with this girl, you mean?"
"Exceedingly so; and what is worse is that, on her side, the girl ispassionately attached to the king."
"As much as to say that we must change our tactics, I suppose?"
"Not a doubt of it; you have no time to lose. You must see La Valliere,and, without thinking any more of becoming her lover, which is out ofthe question, must declare yourself her dearest friend and her mosthumble servant."
"I will do so," replied Fouquet, "and without the slightest feeling ofdisinclination, for she seems a good-hearted girl."
"Or a clever one," said Aramis; "but in that case the greater reason."Then he added, after a moment's pause, "If I am not mistaken, that girlwill become the strongest passion of the king. Let us return to ourcarriage, and, as fast as possible, to the chateau."
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 5
