Old Court Life in France, Volume II (of 2)

"Certainly," returned the lady with decision. She was now quite calm and alive to business.

A knock was heard at the door. Several gentlemen in waiting, attended by pages, entered and announced that supper was served and the Queen already at table.

"I must leave you, my angel," said the King, in a low voice, rising. "It is time you should prepare for the performance of Molière's play in the theatre arranged for to-night. Adieu, my adored Marquise. Forgive my want of courtesy," he whispered in her ear. "But the parrot's voice was so natural. – I will wipe off my fault in any manner you please."

"I ask for nothing, Sire," replied she, in the same low tone, "but that you should refuse this place to Lauzun. Do this, and you are forgiven," and her eyes beamed on the King, who, after placing his hat, covered with a plume of snowy ostrich feathers, on his head, raised it, bowed to her, and kissed her hand. Then replacing his hat before he left the room with his attendants, he passed the outer entrance, where the gardes du corps, who never left him, presented arms.

Madame de Montespan passed into her closet.

When the saloon was empty, Lauzun, crimson in the face, foaming with rage and much rumpled in appearance, emerged from his hiding-place. He hastily replaced his wig, – so hastily, indeed, that he put it on awry, – and dragged on his coat with such violence that he tore off the priceless Malines lace ruffles. Oath after oath fell from his lips as he dressed himself. "You shall pay for this, devil of a Marquise! Morbleu, I will make you wince!" he muttered – for he dared not speak louder until he had left the room. This he did, closing the doors with the utmost precaution behind him.

The suite of rooms assigned to Madame de Montespan led by a corridor to the landing of the grand marble staircase of the south wing. On the other side and across this landing were the state apartments, situated in the centre of the palace. To reach them Madame de Montespan must pass this corridor. Lauzun placed himself behind the outer door, and awaited her. After a long time she appeared. Her hair, just touched with powder, was sown with diamonds. A necklace of large single brilliants, linked together with pearls, lay upon her neck. Her dress was of pink satin, woven with gold; the low body fitting tightly, displayed to the utmost advantage her exquisite form. Her train of violet velvet, bordered by pearls and passementerie of gold, swept the ground. She was a miracle of loveliness. Lauzun made her a profound obeisance. Taking the tips of her fingers within his hand, he kissed them, and begged permission to be allowed the honour of escorting her across the landing to the state apartments. Madame de Montespan smiled; his delicate attention flattered her vanity. Her anger was appeased. The gay sabreur was returning to his allegiance. Lauzun was now, too, a personage, as the betrothed of Mademoiselle, and cousin-to-be of the King. She almost repented she had urged the King so strongly to refuse him the post of Grand Master of the Artillery.

Lauzun, speaking in the softest and most insinuating voice, now asked her if she had condescended, during her recent interview with the King, to remember his humble suit to his Majesty, for which he had recommended himself to her all-powerful influence?

"This very afternoon I have done so," replied she with the utmost effrontery. "Indeed, I have urged your claims so strongly upon both his Majesty and Louvois that I believe you will receive the appointment to-morrow."

"How kind you are!" answered Lauzun, affecting to smile.

"Yes," returned the lady, "after all my eloquence, Monsieur le Comte, you must be successful," and she gave him one of those glances out of her serpent eyes, whose power she knew so well.

"Delightful!" rejoined Lauzun aloud. "I am quite satisfied." Then, placing his mouth close to her ear, while a Satanic look passed over his face, he hissed out, "Yes, I am satisfied, for now I have fairly unmasked you. You are the greatest liar in his Majesty's dominions!"

As he spoke her arm still lay confidingly on his. In a moment he had seized and crushed it violently. Madame de Montespan gave a piercing scream.

"Yes," yelled Lauzun, planting himself before her – "yes, I can prove what I say. I have heard every word you said of me to the King. I was present – concealed."

"Ah!" shrieked Madame de Montespan, agonised with pain. She stopped, and leant against the wall for support. A look of real terror came into her face. She turned appealingly toward Lauzun, who stood before her glaring with passion, then, overcome by pain and fright, she staggered, and fainting, or affecting to faint, fell heavily upon the pavement. There Lauzun left her. Without calling for help, he strode rapidly down the grand staircase, and disappeared.

CHAPTER XXVI.

SIGNING THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT

A DAY is at length fixed. The contract between Mademoiselle and Lauzun is to be signed at the Luxembourg Palace. Mademoiselle arrays herself in the white robe of an affianced bride. Lauzun is beside her. He is ostentatiously humble; indeed, he had never been thoroughly civil to her before.

As he enters the boudoir in her private suite of apartments, he salutes her with his grandest air, and kisses her hand. Mademoiselle cannot take her eyes off him. Her senile transports are ridiculous; Lauzun feels that they are.

A table is placed in the centre of the room; at this table sits Boucherat, notary to her royal highness. He is dressed in the quaint clerical robe, white bands, and short wig that still distinguished his profession in France. The marriage contract, of portentous size, lies open on the table before him. Boucherat, a tall spare man, with a singularly doleful expression of countenance, looks discomposed, coughs several times, then, finding that no one attends to him, looks up. Mademoiselle is talking eagerly with Lauzun.

"Your royal highness – " begins Boucherat, hesitating. "Will you permit me to address you, madame?" he adds in a louder tone, finding Mademoiselle pays no attention to him.

"What is it, my good Boucherat?" asks Mademoiselle, turning round at last towards him.

Boucherat rises to his feet. He bows, standing on the tips of his toes, then folds his arms. He is purple in the face, and appears to be suffering acutely, especially as, suddenly unfolding his arms, he rubs them violently together.

Lauzun laughs. Mademoiselle cannot altogether command her countenance.

"I have known your royal highness from a child," says Boucherat hurriedly, as though speaking between spasms of pain. "I have had the honour of serving your illustrious father, Gaston, Duc d'Orléans, as notary before your birth – exalted lady." Here Boucherat stops, gasps as if going into a fit, wipes his forehead with his handkerchief, and adjusts his wig.

Lauzun roars with laughter, and Mademoiselle contemplates the notary with silent amazement.

"I have the honour to say, – great lady," continues Boucherat spasmodically, "that I have known you from a child. I have always obeyed you, blindly, as was my duty and my pleasure. I have obeyed you now, madame," and he utters a sound between a snort and a groan. "I have at your command drawn up these deeds, as you bade me. But," and he again stops, blows his nose violently, and makes a hideous grimace, "I cannot allow your highness to sign these deeds and contracts without presuming to ask you if you have fully considered their import." Here such a succession of twitches and spasmodic contortions passes over his countenance, that he is scarcely human.

"I have well considered what I am doing, Boucherat," replies Mademoiselle loftily, advancing to the table and taking a pen in her hand.

Lauzun, no longer laughing, stands contemplating Boucherat, with a savage expression.

"Your highness – permit me," pursues the notary, not seeing him. "Is it to be an entire donation of the princedom of Dombes, the county of Eu, the dukedom of – "

"Yes, yes, Boucherat, an entire donation," replies Mademoiselle, interrupting him.

She dips the pen into the ink and prepares to sign.

"An entire donation, madame?" gasps Boucherat, rising noisily to his feet, then re-seating himself, and repeating this several times in his excitement. "Let me caution your highness – " Another snort and a succession of loud coughs silence him.

"This good man will certainly have a fit," says Mademoiselle half aloud. "What can I do with him? Do not agitate yourself, Boucherat," and she turns towards him. She well knows his great fidelity and attachment to herself. "Have no fear. I know what I am about. I shall never be more mistress of my fortune than when I give it to this gentleman."

She turns round and glances fondly at Lauzun, who is standing behind her. She starts back at the furious expression on his face. He looks diabolical. His eyes are fixed on Boucherat. The pen drops from her hand.

"Believe me, madame, I – I have reason for my caution"; and again all human expression passes from the face of the notary in a succession of the most violent winks.

"How, villain! what do you mean?" cries Lauzun, advancing. "I shall break my cane on your back presently."

Boucherat rises, looks for a moment at Lauzun, then at Mademoiselle, shakes his head, readjusts his wig, and reseats himself.

Mademoiselle had taken the pen – which Lauzun presents to her this time – again in her hand.

"Ah, your highness," groans Boucherat, "I have done my duty. God help and guard you!"

"Are these deeds as I commanded them, Boucherat?"

"Yes, madame; they are a donation, an entire donation, of the princedom of Dombes, the – "

"Be silent, scoundrel!" roars Lauzun, "or by heaven I will split your head open."

Boucherat shudders; his eyes seem to turn in his head; a look of horror is on his face.

Mademoiselle draws the parchment towards her.

"I sign here," she says, and she traces her name in a bold, firm hand, "Louise de Montpensier."

While she writes, Boucherat digs his hands into his wig, which, pushed to one side, discloses his bald head. Then with a piteous glance at his mistress, he flings his arms wildly into the air.

"Alas, alas! would I had died before this! the princedom of Dombes gone – the county of Eu gone! Oh, madame!"

"Be silent, madman!" roars Lauzun, "or, pardieu, I will throttle you."

The folding-doors leading into the state apartments are now thrown open. Mademoiselle appears, led by the Comte de Lauzun. These state apartments had been decorated by her grandmother, Marie de' Medici, who had lived in this palace. The walls are ornamented with delicate arabesques, panelled with golden borders, and painted above in compartments. The vaulted ceilings are divided into various designs, executed by Rubens, illustrating the life of his royal mistress. Around hang the effigies of the Medici and the Bourbons, the common ancestors of Marie de' Medici and her granddaughter.

Mademoiselle passes round the brilliant circle which forms itself about her, still holding Lauzun by the hand.

"Permit me," says she, in her stateliest manner, taking her position at the top of the throne-room under a canopy – "Permit me to present to you my future husband, the Duc de Montpensier. Let me beg all of you in future to address him by that title only."

The royal princes present and the great personages of the Court bow their acquiescence. The Maréchal de Bellefonds advances and salutes Mademoiselle.

"Permit me, madame," says he, addressing her, "to congratulate you in the name of your highness's devoted friends. I desire to thank you especially in the name of the nobility of France, whom I represent, for the honour you are conferring on our order by choosing from amongst us a consort to share your dignity. We esteem Monsieur de Lauzun one of the brightest ornaments of the Court; he is worthy of the proud station for which you have selected him."

"I thank you, Maréchal de Bellefonds, and I thank the nobility of France whom you so worthily represent. I thank you from my heart," and Mademoiselle curtseys with royal grace. "No one is so well acquainted as myself with the merit of Monsieur de Lauzun," and she glances proudly at her future husband. "I accept with pleasure the sympathy of his friends."

Lauzun bends, and kisses the hand of his affianced wife.

Then the Maréchal de Charost steps forth from a glittering crowd of officers. Charost is a captain in the royal body-guard.

"I must also thank your highness for the honour you confer on the army of France. My post is now without price; for what would a soldier not give, what sacrifices would he not make, to become the brother-in-arms of the husband of your highness?"

A laugh follows this hearty outburst of enthusiasm. It is scarcely audible, but Mademoiselle instantly suppresses it with a frown. Lauzun is a sacred object in her eyes, and she permits no jests, however flattering, to mix with his name. Turning towards the Maréchal de Charost, she replies with haughty courtesy —

"I thank you, Maréchal, and, in your person I thank the brave army of his Majesty, my cousin."

Before this august company separates it is announced that the marriage contract is to be at once submitted to the King, Queen, the Dauphin, the Duc d'Orléans, and the princes of the blood-royal.

The marriage is to take place next day at Charenton, at the villa of the Marquise de Créqui. The Archbishop of Rheims is to officiate.

CHAPTER XXVII.

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

MEANWHILE, Madame de Montespan expatiated to all the Court on the impossibility of an alliance between Mademoiselle and the Comte de Lauzun. That Lauzun should be received as a prince of the blood would, according to her, for ever lessen that dignity so dear to the heart of the monarch.

Louvois, her creature – some said her lover – spoke more strongly. Not only France, he said, would be eternally disgraced, but his Majesty would be personally censured in every Court in Europe, for permitting one of his nearest relatives thus to demean herself. Monsieur, father of Mademoiselle, declared that such an alliance would be an affront to the memory of his daughter's illustrious grandfather, Henry the Great. Nobles and ministers, incited by Louvois, threw themselves at the King's feet. They implored him not to cloud his glorious reign by consenting to such a mésalliance. The poor weak Queen, worked upon by the artifices of the malicious De Montespan, who, as superintendent of her household, was constantly about her person, complained loudly of the insult about to be put upon her circle – she a royal daughter of Spain! All the princesses of the blood joined with her. The cabal was adroitly managed. It attacked the King's weak side. No man was ever such a slave to public opinion, or so scrupulously regardful of appearances, as Louis XIV. To him the vox populi was indeed "the voice of God."

About eight o'clock that evening, Mademoiselle was summoned to the Louvre from the Luxembourg. "Was the King still at cards?" she asked the messenger.

"No; his Majesty was in the apartments of Madame de Montespan, but he desired to see her highness the instant she arrived."

As Mademoiselle drove into the quadrangle, a gentleman in waiting approached her coach, and begged her to enter by another door, leading directly into the private apartments. This mystery seemed to her excited imagination full of evil import. When she reached the King's cabinet, some one ran out by another door. It was Madame de Montespan. The King was sitting over the fire. His head rested on his hand. Mademoiselle stood before him trembling all over.

"My cousin," said the King at length, rising and offering her a seat beside his own, "what I have to tell you makes me wretched."

"Good God! Sire, what is it?" asked Mademoiselle in a hoarse voice. She had turned as white as the dress (that of an affianced bride) she wore. Her eyes were fixed upon the King in a wild stare.

"Calm yourself, my cousin," said Louis solemnly. "It is said by my ministers that I am sacrificing you, my relative, to the interests of my favourite Lauzun. I am also informed that Lauzun declares he does not love you – that it was you who offered yourself to him in marriage!"

Mademoiselle clasped her hands, then pressed them on her forehead. "Not love me?" she cried. "What a base lie! Lauzun tells me he adores me."

"Nevertheless, my cousin, such reports must have some foundation," resumed the King, speaking with great gravity. "They compromise me in my royal person; they tarnish the glory of the Crown of France, which I wear." His look and manner from grave had become overbearing and pompous. It was quite evident that whatever touched his own position he would ruthlessly sacrifice. "My cousin, I have to announce to you that I cannot permit this marriage." He spoke in a loud, grating voice, raised his eyes to the ceiling, stroked his chin with his hand, and seemed to swell with self-consciousness.

A ringing scream was heard from Mademoiselle. She lay back on her arm-chair motionless.

Having asserted his dignity, and conveyed in proper terms to his cousin that neither her entreaties nor her sufferings could for an instant be considered when they encroached upon his royal state, Louis relaxed his rigid attitude, condescended to turn his eyes downwards upon poor Mademoiselle, and in a voice kind, spite of his sublimity, added —

"I am very sorry for you, my cousin, very sorry. You have good cause to complain of me; but my duty as King of France is supreme. I cannot permit you to espouse the Comte de Lauzun."

"Ah, sire – " groaned Mademoiselle, in a voice so choked by agitation it sounded strange in the King's ears, and made him shudder; (for his selfish nature instinctively caused him to shrink from every species of suffering). She held out her hands supplicatingly towards him, and vainly essayed several times to speak. "Ah, Sire," she said at last in a voice scarcely audible, "you cannot withdraw your word – the word of a King. Consider," and she stopped and burst into an agony of tears. "Consider, my cousin, no one can have anything to do with my marriage but myself."

No sooner had she uttered these words than Louis drew himself up; the long curls of the full-bottomed wig which covered his shoulders vibrated, and the diamond star he wore on his coat of peach-coloured satin glistened, so sudden had been his action. At the same time, such a stony look came into his hard face, as gave him the aspect of a statue.

"Excuse me, my cousin, my royal dignity, the splendour of my Court, the esteem of every crowned head in Europe are implicated. You seem to forget that you are born a daughter of France. But, madame, I remember it, and I shall shield my royal name from dishonour!"

Overcome as was Mademoiselle, she perceived the mistake she had made. Her brain reeled, her limbs quivered convulsively, but she staggered to her feet.

"Oh, sire, hear me!" she cried. "Let me implore you," and she threw herself before him and clasped his knees, "do not, do not forbid me to marry my beloved Lauzun? No ordinary rule applies to him. Lauzun is good, great, heroic! Oh! who would become a royal position like Lauzun?"

Louis did not reply. Having sufficiently asserted his dignity, he no longer restrained his kindlier feelings. He put his arms round his cousin, and tried to raise her from the ground.

"No, no; let me kneel," cried she passionately, clinging to him, "until you have recalled those dreadful words. Sire, I have ever respected and loved you. I have lived beside you as a sister. Do not – oh! do not make my life desolate. For God's sake, let me spend it with the only man I ever loved! A man so made to love. Kill me! kill me! my cousin," and she wrung her hands convulsively; "but, if I am to live, let me live with Lauzun. I cannot – I will not give him up!"

Louis rose from the arm-chair on which he was seated. He knelt on the floor by her side. He again took her in his arms, and laying her head upon his breast, he soothed her like a child. Big tears rolled down his cheeks. He called her by every endearing name to comfort her. He did all, save consent to her marriage.

Mademoiselle was drowned in tears. Vainly did she, turning her swollen eyes upon the King, who soothed her so fondly, strain her ears to hear that one little word which was to dry them. She listened in vain; that word was never to be spoken. At last, faint with emotion, she signed to the King to raise her up, which he did, placing her on a chair. He kissed her burning forehead, and pressed her dry hands in his.

"My cousin," he said, "do not blame me. Rather blame yourself. Why did you not take my advice? I told you to lose no time. To marry at once. You should have done so. Why did you give me time to reflect – time for others to reflect? You ought to have obeyed me."

Mademoiselle dared not confess that it was Lauzun's fault she had not done so, but at this recollection a fresh burst of grief choked her utterance.

"Alas, Sire," she moaned at last, "when did you ever break your word before? Could I believe you would begin with me? To break your word, too, in such a manner!"

As Louis listened to her, he knit his brows, and looked gloomy and embarrassed.

"I am not my own master," he replied coldly, "in affairs touching my house and the honour of my race."

"Sire, if I do not marry Lauzun," groaned Mademoiselle, almost inaudibly, "I shall die. I never loved any other man. I ask my life of you, cousin. Do not take my life. You are sacrificing me to a court intrigue," she added faintly, catching at his hand, for she was fast losing heart; "but believe me, and let others know, that much as I love and respect your Majesty, and desire to obey you, I will never, never marry another man." Holding the King's hand, she kissed it, and gazed imploringly at him.

"Dear cousin, do not be so unhappy," he replied, at a loss what answer to make to such a home-thrust, which he knew to be so true. "Believe me, your obedience in this matter of Lauzun will make you doubly dear to me. You can command me in all other ways."

"Nothing – nothing can give life a value without Lauzun!" broke in Mademoiselle vehemently.

"My cousin," answered the King gravely, "I cannot permit you to be sacrificed. You are made a tool of. I cannot permit it. Now," he continued, rising, – and with difficulty suppressing a yawn – "you can have nothing more to say to me. I shall not alter my determination."

Mademoiselle wrung her hands, the King drew her to him and kissed her on the forehead. As he did so, a tear dropped upon her cheek.

"Oh, Sire!" cried Mademoiselle, "you pity me, and you have the heart to refuse me! You are the master of my fate. Have mercy on me! Do not give heed to others. Ah, Sire, you are destroying me!"

"Come to me to-morrow, my cousin," said Louis soothingly, much affected, but unshaken by her prayers. "Come and tell me you have forgiven me. Now, good night," and again he tenderly embraced her. Then he summoned his attendants to conduct her to her coach.

"Lauzun had played deep for a great prize, and he had lost the game. He broke out into savage abuse and called the King opprobrious names. Absolutely maddened by rage, he rushed to the palace. He was refused admittance. Yet he swore and cursed at the attendants until he forced them to let him pass. Then he strode up-stairs to the apartments of Madame de Montespan. Here he found the King seated by her side."

Louis rose, placed himself in front of the Marquise, and faced him with a look of the gravest displeasure.

"Sire," cried Lauzun, his face swollen with passion, "I am come to ask you what I have done that you should dishonour me?"

"Come, come, Lauzun," replied Louis, still standing before Madame de Montespan; "calm yourself."

Lauzun was too deep in the royal secrets to make an open breach with him either advisable or safe.

"No, Sire," roared Lauzun, emboldened by the King's calmness; "permit me to say I will not calm myself. I will not permit this humiliation. There is my sword," and he drew it from its scabbard; "your Majesty has made me unworthy to wear it. Take it – take my life also."

Lauzun presented his sword. The King put it from him with an imperious gesture.