CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PRESENTATION.
Versailles is still fine to look upon; but it was splendid to view inthe period of its glory.
Particularly was it resplendent when a great ceremony was performed,when the wardrobes and warehouses were ransacked to display theirsumptuous treasures, and the dazzling illuminations doubled the magicof its wealth.
It had degenerated, but it still was glowing when it opened all itsdoors and lit up all its flambeaux to hail the court reception ofCountess Dubarry. The curious populace forgot its misery and its ragsbefore so much bewildering show, and crammed the squares and Paris road.
All the palace windows spouted flame, and the skyrockets resembledstars floating and shooting in a golden dust.
The king came out of his private rooms at ten precisely, dressed withmore care than usual, his lace being richer and the jewels in hisgarter and shoe buckles being worth a fortune. Informed by Satines thatthe court ladies were plotting against his favorite, he was carewornand trembled with fury when he saw none but men in the ante-chamber.But he took heart when, in the queen's drawing-room, set aside forthe reception, he saw in a cloud of powder and diamond luster, histhree daughters, and all the ladies who had vowed the night before tostay away. The Duke of Richelieu ran from one to another, playfullyreproaching them for giving in and complimenting them on thinkingbetter of it.
"But what has made you come, duke?" they naturally challenged him.
"Oh, I am not here really--I am but the proxy for my daughter, CountessEgmont. If you will look around you will not see her; she alone, withLady Grammont and Lady Guemenee has kept the pledge to keep aloof. I amsure what will happen to me for practically staying away. I shall besent into exile for the fifth time, or to the Bastille for the fourth.That will end my plotting, and I vow to conspire never again."
The king remarked the absentees, and he went up to the Duke of Choiseulwho affected the utmost calm and demanded:
"I do not see the Duchess of Grammont."
"Sire, my sister is not well, and she begs me to offer her most humblerespects," said Choiseul, only succeeding in flimsy indifference.
"That is bad for her!" ominously said the sovereign, turning his backon the duke and thus facing Prince Guemenee.
"Have you brought your wife?" he questioned.
"Impossible, your majesty: when I went to bring her, she was sick abed."
"Nothing could be worse," said the king. "Good-evening, marshal," hesaid to Richelieu, who bowed with the suppleness of a young courtier."You do not seem to have a touch of the complaint?"
"Sire, I am always in good health when I have the pleasure of beholdingyour majesty."
"But I do not see your daughter the Countess of Egmont. What is thereason of her absence?"
"Alas! sire," responded the old duke, assuming the most sorrowful mien,"my poor child is the more indisposed from the mishap depriving her ofthe happiness of this occasion, but----"
"Lady Egmont unwell, whose health was the most robust in the realm!this is sad for her!" and the king turned his back on the old courtieras he had on the others whom he snubbed.
Gloomy, anxious and irritated, the king went over to the window, andseizing the carved handle of the sash with one hand, he cooled hisfevered brow against the pane. The courtiers could be heard chattering,like leaves rustling before the tempest, while all eyes stared atthe clock; it struck the half-hour, when a great uproar of vehiclesrumbling on the yard cobblestones resounded under the carriage-wayvault. Suddenly the royal brow brightened and a flash shot from hiseyes.
"The Right Honorable Lady the Countess of Dubarry!" roared the usher tothe grand master of ceremonies. "The Right Honorable the Countess ofBearn!"
Different sensations were making all hearts leap. Invincibly drawn bycuriosity, a flood of courtiers moved toward the monarch.
The wife of the Marshal of Mirepoix was carried close up to the king,and though she had been in the front of the anti-Dubarryists, sheclasped her hands ready for adoration, and exclaimed:
"Oh, how lovely she is!"
The king turned and smiled on the speaker.
"But she is not a mere mortal," said Richelieu; "she is a fairy," whichwon him the end of the smile.
In truth, never had the countess been fairer, more winsome inexpression, more modest in bearing, more noble in figure, more elegantin step or more cunning in showing emotion; her like had never excitedadmiration in the queen's drawing-room.
Charmingly beautiful, richly but not flauntingly dressed and notablefor a tastefully novel headdress, she advanced held by the hand ofCountess Bearn. Spite of atrocious pangs, the latter did not hobble oreven wince, though the rouge fell in flakes from her face as each stepwrung her to the core.
All eyes turned on the singular pair.
The old dame, with an old-fashioned low-necked robe, and her hair builtup a foot high above her bright but deep-set eyes like an osprey's,her splendid attire and her skeleton-tread, seemed the image of thepast giving her hand to the present. This model of cold, dry dignityguiding decent and voluptuous beauty, struck most with admiration andastonishment.
The vivid contrast made the king fancy that Countess Bearn was bringinghim his favorite more youthful and brilliant than ever.
"You have a very fair novice to present, my lady," said he; "but shealso has a noble introductress, than whom there is not one whom I ammore pleased to see again at court."
The old lady courtesied.
"Go and bow to my daughters," whispered the monarch to Jeanne, "andshow that you know how to courtesy. I hope you will not be dissatisfiedwith the way they reply to you."
His eyes were fixed upon his daughters and compelled them to showpoliteness, and as Lady Dubarry bowed more lowly than court etiquetteprescribed, they were touched, and embraced her with a cordiality whichpleased their father.
Henceforward, the countess' success became a triumph.
The Duke of Richelieu, as the victor of Mahon, knew how to maneuver; hewent and placed himself behind the chair ready for Countess Dubarry, sothat he was near her when the presentation was over, without having tobattle with the crowd. Lady Mirepoix, knowing how lucky her old friendwas in warfare, had imitated him, and drew her stool close to thefavorite's chair.
Supported by the royal love, and the favorable welcome of the royalprincesses, Jeanne looked less timidly around among the noblemen,though it was among the ladies that she expected enemies.
"Ah, my Lord of Richelieu," she said, "I had to come here to find you,for you have let a week pass without calling at Luciennes."
"I was preparing for the pleasure of seeing you here, certain here tomeet!" "I wish you had imparted the certainty to me, for I was nonetoo sure on that head--considering that I am surrounded by plots tothwart me."
She glared at the old gallant who bore the glance imperturbably.
"Plots? Goodness! what are you talking about?"
"In the first place my hairdresser was spirited away."
"Was he, indeed! what a lucky thing that I sent you a pearl of hiscraft whom my daughter the Countess of Egmont found somewhere--anartiste most superior to the general run, even to the royal perrukeers,my little Leonard."
"Leonard," repeated the lady.
"Yes, a little fellow who does up my Septimanie's tresses, and whomshe keeps hidden from all eyes, as a miser does his cash-box. You arenot complaining of him, I think, for your ladyship is turned out, asbarbers say, marvelously. Curiously enough, the style reminds me of asketch which the court painter Boucher gave my daughter, for her to bedressed in accord with it, had she not fallen ill. Poor Seppie! But youwere talking of plots?"
"Yes, they kept back my dress."
"This is odious! Though you are not to be pitied when arrayed in sucha choice China silk; with flower work applied; now, had you _applied_to me in your quandary, as I hope you will in the future, I would havesent you the dress my daughter had made for her presence here--it is solike this, that I could vow it is the s
ame."
Countess Dubarry seized both his hands, beginning to understand who wasthe enchanter who had saved her from the embarrassment.
"I suppose it was in your daughter's coach that I was brought here?"she said.
"Oh, I should know hers, for it was renovated for this occasion withwhite satin; but there was no time to paint her blazon upon thepanels----"
"Only time to paint a rose! Duke, you are a delightful nobleman."
The old peer kissed the hands, of which he made a warm and perfumedmask. Feeling them thrill, he started and asked the cause.
"Who is that man yonder, in a Prussian officer's dress, with black eyesand expressive countenance, by Prince Guemenee?"
"Some superior officer whom the king of Prussia sends to honor yourpresentation."
"Do not laugh, duke; but that man was in France three or four yearsago, and I have been seeking for him everywhere without avail."
"You are in error, countess; the stranger is Count Fenix, who arrivedbut yesterday."
"How hard he looks at me!"
"Nay, how tenderly everybody is looking at you!"
"Look, he is bowing to me!"
"Everybody is doing that, if they have not done so."
A prey to extraordinary emotion, the lady did not heed the duke'scompliments, and, with her sight riveted on the stranger who captivatedher attention, she quitted Richelieu, in spite of herself, to movetoward the foreigner. The king was watching her and perceived themovement. He thought she wanted him, and approached her, as hehad quite long enough stood aloof out of regard for the socialrestrictions. But the countess was so engrossed that her mind would notbe diverted.
"Sire, who is that Prussian officer, now turning away from PrinceGuemenee to look this way?"
"The stout figure with the square face enframed in a goldencollar?--accredited from my cousin of Prussia--some philosopher of hisstamp. I am glad that German philosophy celebrates the triumph of KingPetticoat the Third, as they nickname the Louis for their devotion tothe sex of which you are the brightest gem. His title is Count Fenix,"added the sovereign reflecting.
"It is he," thought Countess Dubarry, but as she kept silence the kingproceeded, raising his voice:
"Ladies, the dauphiness arrives at Compiegne to-morrow, the journeyhaving been shortened. Her royal highness will receive at middayprecisely. All the ladies _presented_ at court will be of the receptionparty, except those who were absent to-day. The journey is fatiguing,and her highness can have no desire to aggravate the ills of those whoare indisposed."
He looked with severity at Choiseul, Guemenee and Richelieu. A silenceof terror surrounded the speaker, whose words were fully understood asmeaning disgrace.
"Sire, I pray the exception for the Countess of Egmont, as she is thedaughter of my most faithful friend, the Duke of Richelieu."
"His Grace your friend?"
Approaching the old courtier who had comprehended from the motion ofthe pleader's lips, he said:
"I hope Lady Egmont will be well enough to-morrow to come?"
"Certainly, sire. She would be fit for travel this hour, if yourmajesty desired it." And he saluted with respect and thankfulness.
The king leaned over to the countess' ear and whispered a word.
"Sire, I am your majesty's most obedient servant." Her reverence wasaccompanied by a most bewitching smile.
The king waved his hand and retired to his own rooms.
Scarcely had he crossed the threshold before the countess turned morefrightened than ever to the singular man who had so monopolized her.Like the others, he had bowed as the monarch withdrew, but his browhad worn a haughty, almost menacing aspect. As soon as Louis haddisappeared, he came and paused within a step or two of Lady Dubarry.
Urged by invincible curiosity, she took a step toward him, so that hecould say in a low voice as he bent to her:
"Am I recognized, lady?"
"Yes, as my prophet of Louis XV. Square."
"Well," queried the man with the clear, steady gaze, "Did I lie when Itold you of becoming the Queen of France?"
"No; your prophecy is all but accomplished. Hence, I am ready to keepmy promise. Speak your wish."
"The place is ill chosen, and the time has not come."
"I am ready to fulfill it any time."
"Can I come any time?"
"Yes; will it be as Count Fenix?"
"My title will be Count Joseph Balsamo."
"I shall not forget it, Balsamo," repeated the favorite as themysterious stranger was merged with the crowd.
Balsamo, the Magician; or, The Memoirs of a Physician Page 23
