CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE FLIGHT.
La Valliere followed the patrol as it left the courtyard. The patrolbent its steps toward the right, by the Rue St. Honore, and mechanicallyLa Valliere went to the left. Her resolution was taken--herdetermination fixed: she wished to betake herself to the convent of theCarmelites at Chaillot, the superior of which enjoyed a reputation forseverity which made the worldly minded people of the court tremble. LaValliere had never seen Paris--she had never gone out on foot, and sowould have been unable to find her way, even had she been in a calmerframe of mind than was then the case, and this may explain why sheascended, instead of descending, the Rue St. Honore. Her only thoughtwas to get away from the Palais Royal, and this she was doing: she hadheard it said that Chaillot looked out upon the Seine, and sheaccordingly directed her steps toward the Seine. She took the Rue duCoq, and not being able to cross the Louvre, bore toward the church ofSaint-Germain l'Auxerrois, proceeding along the site of the colonnadewhich was subsequently built there by Perrault. In a very short time shereached the quays. Her steps were rapid and agitated; she scarcely feltthe weakness which reminded her of having sprained her foot when veryyoung, and which obliged her to limp slightly. At any other hour in theday her countenance would have awakened the suspicions of the leastclear-sighted persons, or have attracted the attention of the mostindifferent passers-by. But at half-past two in the morning, the streetsof Paris are almost, if not quite, deserted, and scarcely any one is tobe seen but the hard-working artisan on his way to earn his daily bread,or the dangerous idlers of the streets, who are returning to their homesafter a night of riot and debauchery: for the former the day wasbeginning, for the latter it was just closing. La Valliere was afraid ofthose faces, in which her ignorance of Parisian types did not permit herto distinguish the type of probity from that of dishonesty. Theappearance of misery alarmed her, and all whom she met seemed wretchedand miserable. Her toilet, which was the same she had worn during theprevious evening, was elegant even in its careless disorder: for it wasthe one in which she had presented herself to the queen-mother; and,moreover, when she drew aside the mantle which covered her face in orderto enable her to see the way she was going, her pallor and her beautifuleyes spoke an unknown language to the men she met, and, ignorantly, thepoor fugitive seemed to invite the brutal remarks of the one class, orto appeal to the compassion of the other. La Valliere still walked on inthe same way, breathless and hurried, until she reached the top of thePlace de Greve. She stopped from time to time, placed her hand upon herheart, leaned against a wall until she could breathe freely again, andthen continued her course more rapidly than before. On reaching thePlace de Greve, La Valliere suddenly came upon a group of three drunkenmen, reeling and staggering along, who were just leaving a boat, whichthey had made fast to the quay; the boat was freighted with wines, andit was apparent that they had done complete justice to the merchandise.They were singing their convivial exploits in three different keys, whensuddenly, as they reached the end of the railing leading down to thequay, they found an obstacle in their path in the shape of this younggirl. La Valliere stopped; while they, on their side, at the appearanceof the young girl dressed in court costume, also halted, and, seizingeach other by the hand, they surrounded La Valliere, singing:
"Oh! you who sadly are wandering alone, Come, come, and laugh with us."
La Valliere at once understood that the men were addressing her, andwished to prevent her passing; she tried to do so several times, but allher efforts were useless. Her limbs failed her; she felt she was on thepoint of falling, and uttered a cry of terror. At the same moment, thecircle which surrounded her was suddenly broken through in a mostviolent manner. One of her insulters was knocked to the left, anotherfell rolling over and over to the right, close to the water's edge,while the third could hardly keep his feet. An officer of the musketeersstood face to face with the young girl, with threatening brow, and hishand raised to carry out his threat. The drunken fellows, at the sightof the uniform, made their escape with all dispatch, and the greater forthe proof of strength which the wearer of the uniform had just affordedthem.
"Is it possible," exclaimed the musketeer, "that it can be Mademoisellede la Valliere?"
La Valliere, bewildered by what had just happened, and confounded byhearing her name pronounced, looked up and recognized D'Artagnan.
"Oh, M. d'Artagnan, it is indeed I!" and at the same moment she seizedhold of his arm. "You will protect me, will you not?" she added, in atone of entreaty.
"Most certainly I will protect you; but, in Heaven's name, where are yougoing at this hour?"
"I am going to Chaillot."
"You're going to Chaillot by the way of La Rapee! Why, mademoiselle, youare turning your back to it."
"In that case, monsieur, be kind enough to put me in the right way, andto go with me a short distance."
"Most willingly."
"But how does it happen that I have found you here? By what mercifuldirection were you so near at hand to come to my assistance? I almostseem to be dreaming, or to be losing my senses."
"I happened to be here, mademoiselle, because I have a house in thePlace de Greve, at the sign of the 'Notre-Dame,' the rent of which Iwent to receive yesterday, and where I, in fact, passed the night. And Ialso wished to be at the palace early, for the purpose of inspecting myposts."
"Thank you," said La Valliere.
"That is what _I_ was doing," said D'Artagnan to himself; "but what was_she_ doing, and why was she going to Chaillot at such an hour?" And heoffered her his arm, which she took, and began to walk with increasedprecipitation, which concealed, however, a great weakness. D'Artagnanperceived it, and proposed to La Valliere that she should take a littlerest, which she refused.
"You are ignorant, perhaps, where Chaillot is?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"Quite so."
"It is a great distance."
"That matters very little."
"It is at least a league."
"I can walk it."
D'Artagnan did not reply; he could tell, merely by the tone of a voice,when a resolution was real or not. He rather bore along than accompaniedLa Valliere, until they perceived the elevated ground of Chaillot.
"What house are you going to, mademoiselle?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"To the Carmelites, monsieur."
"To the Carmelites?" repeated D'Artagnan, in amazement.
"Yes; and since Heaven has directed you toward me to give me yoursupport on my road, accept both my thanks and my adieux."
"To the Carmelites! Your adieux! Are you going to become a nun?"exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"Yes, monsieur."
"What, you!!!" There was in this "you," which we have marked by threenotes of exclamation in order to render it as expressive aspossible--there was, we repeat, in this "you" a complete poem. Itrecalled to La Valliere her old recollections of Blois, and her newrecollections of Fontainebleau; it said to her, "_You_, who might behappy with Raoul--_you_, who might be powerful with Louis, _you_ aboutto become a nun!"
"Yes, monsieur," she said; "I am going to devote myself to the serviceof Heaven, and to renounce the world altogether."
"But are you not mistaken with regard to your vocation--are you notmistaken in supposing it to be the will of Heaven?"
"No; since Heaven has been pleased to throw you in my way. Had it notbeen for you, I should certainly have sunk from fatigue on the road; andsince Heaven, I repeat, has thrown you in my way, it is because it haswilled that I should carry out my intention."
"Oh!" said D'Artagnan, doubtingly, "that is a rather subtle distinction,I think."
"Whatever it may be," returned the young girl, "I have acquainted youwith the steps I have taken, and with my fixed resolution. And now Ihave one last favor to ask of you, even while I return you my thanks.The king is entirely ignorant of my flight from the Palais Royal, and isignorant also of what I am about to do."
"The king ignorant, you say!" exclaimed D'Artagnan. "Take care,mad
emoiselle; you are not aware of what you are doing. No one ought todo anything with which the king is unacquainted, especially those whobelong to the court."
"I no longer belong to the court, monsieur."
D'Artagnan looked at the young girl with increasing astonishment.
"Do not be uneasy, monsieur," she continued; "I have well calculatedeverything: and were it not so, it would now be too late to reconsidermy resolution--it is decided."
"Well, mademoiselle, what do you wish me to do?"
"In the name of that sympathy which misfortune inspires, by yourgenerous feelings, and by your honor as a gentleman, I entreat you toswear to me one thing."
"Name it."
"Swear to me, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that you will not tell the king thatyou have seen me, and that I am at the Carmelites."
"I will not swear that," said D'Artagnan, shaking his head.
"Why?"
"Because I know the king, I know you, I know myself, even, nay, thewhole human race, too well; no, no, I will not swear that."
"In that case," cried La Valliere, with an energy of which one wouldhardly have thought her capable, "instead of the blessing which I shouldhave implored for you until my dying day, I will invoke a curse, for youare rendering me the most miserable creature that ever lived."
We have already observed that D'Artagnan could easily recognize theaccents of truth and sincerity, and he could not resist this lastappeal. He saw by her face how bitterly she suffered from a feeling ofdegradation, he remarked her trembling limbs, how her whole slight anddelicate frame was violently agitated by some internal struggle, andclearly perceived that resistance might be fatal. "I will do as youwish, then," he said. "Be satisfied, mademoiselle, I will say nothing tothe king."
"Oh! thanks, thanks," exclaimed La Valliere, "you are the most generousman breathing."
And in her extreme delight she seized hold of D'Artagnan's hands andpressed them between her own. D'Artagnan, who felt himself quiteovercome, said, "This is touching, upon my word; she begins where othersleave off."
And La Valliere, who, in the extremity of her distress, had sunk downupon the ground, rose and walked toward the convent of the Carmelites,which could now, in the dawning light, be perceived just before them.D'Artagnan followed her at a distance. The entrance door was half open,she glided in like a shadow, and thanking D'Artagnan by a partinggesture, disappeared from his sight. When D'Artagnan found himself quitealone, he reflected profoundly upon what had just taken place. "Upon myword," he said, "this looks very much like what is called a falseposition. To keep such a secret as that is to keep a burning coal inone's breeches pocket, and trust that it may not burn the stuff. Andyet, not to keep it when I have sworn to do so, is dishonorable. Itgenerally happens that some bright idea or other occurs to me as I amgoing along; but I am very much mistaken if I shall not now have to go along way in order to find the solution of this affair. Yes, but whichway to go? Oh! toward Paris, of course; that is the best way, after all.Only one must make haste, and in order to make haste, four legs arebetter than two, and I, unhappily, have only two. 'A horse, a horse,' asI heard them say at the theater in London, 'my kingdom for a horse!' Andnow I think of it, it need not cost me so much as that, for at theBarriere de la Conference there is a guard of musketeers, and instead ofthe one horse I need, I shall find ten there."
So, in pursuance of this resolution, which he had adopted with his usualrapidity, D'Artagnan immediately turned his back upon the heights ofChaillot, reached the guard-house, took the fastest horse he could findthere, and was at the palace in less than ten minutes. It was strikingfive as he reached the Palais Royal. The king, he was told, went to bedat his usual hour, after having been engaged with M. Colbert, and, inall probability, was still fast asleep. "Come," said D'Artagnan, "shespoke the truth, and the king is ignorant of everything; if he only knewone half of what has happened, the Palais Royal by this time would beturned upside down."
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