Ten Years Later. Dumas Alexandre

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ us chat like old friends. Present me, Louise, to M. de Bragelonne."

      "Monsieur le Vicomte," said Louise, with her quiet grace and ingenuous smile, "I have the honour to present to you Mademoiselle Aure de Montalais, maid of honor to her royal highness Madame, and moreover my friend – my excellent friend."

      Raoul bowed ceremoniously.

      "And me, Louise," said he – "will you not present me also to mademoiselle?"

      "Oh, she knows you – she knows all!"

      This unguarded expression made Montalais laugh and Raoul sigh with happiness, for he interpreted it thus: "She knows all our love."

      "The ceremonies being over, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Montalais, "take a chair, and tell us quickly the news you bring flying thus."

      "Mademoiselle, it is no longer a secret; the king, on his way to Poitiers, will stop at Blois, to visit his royal highness."

      "The king here!" exclaimed Montalais, clapping her hands. "What! are we going to see the court? Only think, Louise – the real court from Paris! Oh, good heavens! But when will this happen, monsieur?"

      "Perhaps this evening, mademoiselle; at latest, tomorrow."

      Montalais lifted her shoulders in sign of vexation.

      "No time to get ready! No time to prepare a single dress! We are as far behind the fashions as the Poles. We shall look like portraits of the time of Henry IV. Ah, monsieur! this is sad news you bring us!"

      "But, mesdemoiselles, you will be still beautiful!"

      "That's no news! Yes, we shall be always beautiful because nature has made us passable; but we shall be ridiculous, because the fashion will have forgotten us. Alas! ridiculous! I shall be thought ridiculous – I!

      "And by whom?" said Louise, innocently.

      "By whom? You are a strange girl, my dear. Is that a question to put to me? I mean everybody; I mean the courtiers, the nobles; I mean the king."

      "Pardon me, my good friend, but as here every one is accustomed to see us as we are – "

      "Granted; but that is about to change, and we shall be ridiculous, even for Blois; for close to us will be seen the fashions from Paris, and they will perceive that we are in the fashion of Blois! It is enough to make one despair!"

      "Console yourself, mademoiselle."

      "Well, so let it be! After all, so much the worse for those who do not find me to their taste!" said Montalais philosophically.

      "They would be very difficult to please," replied Raoul, faithful to his regular system of gallantry.

      "Thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte. We were saying, then, that the king is coming to Blois?"

      "With all the court."

      "Mesdemoiselles de Mancini, will they be with them?"

      "No, certainly not."

      "But as the king, it is said, cannot do without Mademoiselle Mary?"

      "Mademoiselle, the king must do without her. M. le Cardinal will have it so. He has exiled his nieces to Brouage."

      "He! – the hypocrite!"

      "Hush!" said Louise, pressing a finger on her friend's rosy lips.

      "Bah! nobody can hear me. I say that old Mazarino Mazarini is a hypocrite, who burns impatiently to make his niece Queen of France."

      "That cannot be, mademoiselle, since M. le Cardinal, on the contrary, has brought about the marriage of his majesty with the Infanta Maria Theresa."

      Montalais looked Raoul full in the face, and said, "And do you Parisians believe in these tales? Well! we are a little more knowing than you, at Blois."

      "Mademoiselle, if the king goes beyond Poitiers and sets out for Spain, if the articles of the marriage contract are agreed upon by Don Luis de Haro and his eminence, you must plainly perceive that it is not child's play."

      "All very fine! but the king is king, I suppose?"

      "No doubt, mademoiselle; but the cardinal is the cardinal."

      "The king is not a man, then! And he does not love Mary Mancini?"

      "He adores her."

      "Well, he will marry her then. We shall have war with Spain. M. Mazarin will spend a few of the millions he has put away; our gentlemen will perform prodigies of valor in their encounters with the proud Castilians, and many of them will return crowned with laurels, to be recrowned by us with myrtles. Now, that is my view of politics."

      "Montalais, you are wild!" said Louise, "and every exaggeration attracts you as light does a moth."

      "Louise, you are so extremely reasonable, that you will never know how to love."

      "Oh!" said Louise, in a tone of tender reproach, "don't you see, Montalais? The queen-mother desires to marry her son to the Infanta; would you wish him to disobey his mother? Is it for a royal heart like his to set such a bad example? When parents forbid love, love must be banished."

      And Louise sighed: Raoul cast down his eyes, with an expression of constraint. Montalais, on her part, laughed aloud.

      "Well, I have no parents!" said she.

      "You are acquainted, without doubt, with the state of health of M. le Comte de la Fere?" said Louise, after breathing that sigh which had revealed so many griefs in its eloquent utterance.

      "No, mademoiselle," replied Raoul, "I have not yet paid my respects to my father; I was going to his house when Mademoiselle de Montalais so kindly stopped me. I hope the comte is well. You have heard nothing to the contrary, have you?"

      "No, M. Raoul – nothing, thank God!"

      Here, for several instants, ensued a silence, during which two spirits, which followed the same idea, communicated perfectly, without even the assistance of a single glance.

      "Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Montalais in a fright; "there is somebody coming up."

      "Who can it be?" said Louise, rising in great agitation.

      "Mesdemoiselles, I inconvenience you very much. I have, without doubt, been very indiscreet," stammered Raoul, very ill at ease.

      "It is a heavy step," said Louise.

      "Ah! if it is only M. Malicorne," added Montalais, "do not disturb yourselves."

      Louise and Raoul looked at each other to inquire who M. Malicorne could be.

      "There is no occasion to mind him," continued Montalais; "he is not jealous."

      "But, mademoiselle – " said Raoul.

      "Yes, I understand. Well, he is as discreet as I am."

      "Good heavens!" cried Louise, who had applied her ear to the door, which had been left ajar, "it is my mother's step!"

      "Madame de Saint-Remy! Where shall I hide myself?" exclaimed Raoul, catching at the dress of Montalais, who СКАЧАТЬ