"Yes, in the arms of his tutor, a poor, honest man, who did not long survive him."
"That can easily be understood; it is so difficult to bear up under the weight of such a loss and such a secret," said Madame de Chevreuse,--the irony of which reflection the queen pretended not to perceive. Madame de Chevreuse continued: "Well, madame, I inquired some years ago at Noisy-le-Sec about this unhappy child. I was told that it was not believed he was dead, and that was my reason for not having at first condoled with your majesty; for, most certainly, if I could have thought it were true, never should I have made the slightest allusion to so deplorable an event, and thus have re-awakened your majesty"s most natural distress."
"You say that it is not believed the child died at Noisy?"
"No, madame."
"What did they say about him, then?"
"They said--but, no doubt, they were mistaken--"
"Nay, speak, speak!"
"They said, that one evening, about the year 1645, a lady, beautiful and majestic in her bearing, which was observed notwithstanding the mask and the mantle that concealed her figure--a lady of rank, of very high rank, no doubt--came in a carriage to the place where the road branches off; the very same spot, you know, where I awaited news of the young prince when your majesty was graciously pleased to send me there."
"Well, well?"
"That the boy"s tutor, or guardian, took the child to this lady."
"Well, what next?"
"That both the child and his tutor left that part of the country the very next day."
"There, you see there is some truth in what you relate, since, in point of fact, the poor child died from a sudden attack of illness, which makes the lives of all children, as doctors say, suspended as it were by a thread."
"What your majesty says is quite true; no one knows it better than yourself--no one believes it more strongly than myself. But yet, how strange it is--"
"What can it now be?" thought the queen.
"The person who gave me these details, who was sent to inquire after the child"s health--"
"Did you confide such a charge to any one else? Oh, d.u.c.h.esse!"
"Some one as dumb as your majesty, as dumb as myself; we will suppose it was myself, Madame; this some one, some months after, pa.s.sing through Touraine--"
"Touraine!"
"Recognized both the tutor and the child, too! I am wrong, thought he recognized them, both living, cheerful, happy, and flourishing, the one in a green old age, the other in the flower of his youth. Judge after that what truth can be attributed to the rumors which are circulated, or what faith, after that, placed in anything that may happen in the world!
But I am fatiguing your majesty; it was not my intention, however, to do so, and I will take my leave of you, after renewing to you the a.s.surance of my most respectful devotion."
"Stay, d.u.c.h.esse; let us first talk a little about yourself."
"Of myself, madame! I am not worthy that you should bend your looks upon me."
"Why not, indeed? Are you not the oldest friend I have? Are you angry with me, d.u.c.h.esse?"
"I, indeed! what motive could I have? If I had reason to be angry with your majesty, should I have come here?"
"d.u.c.h.esse, age is fast creeping on us both; we should be united against that death whose approach cannot be far off."
"You overpower me, madame, with the kindness of your language."
"No one has ever loved or served me as you have done, d.u.c.h.esse."
"Your majesty is too kind in remembering it."
"Not so. Give me a proof of your friendship, d.u.c.h.esse."
"My whole being is devoted to you, madame."
"The proof I require is, that you should ask something of me."
"Ask--"
"Oh, I know you well,--no one is more disinterested, more n.o.ble, and truly loyal."
"Do not praise me too highly, madame," said the d.u.c.h.esse, somewhat anxiously.
"I could never praise you as much as you deserve to be praised."
"And yet, age and misfortune effect a terrible change in people, madame."
"So much the better; for the beautiful, the haughty, the adored d.u.c.h.esse of former days might have answered me ungratefully, "I do not wish for anything from you." Heaven be praised! The misfortunes you speak of have indeed worked a change in you, for you will now, perhaps, answer me, "I accept.""
The d.u.c.h.esse"s look and smile soon changed at this conclusion, and she no longer attempted to act a false part.
"Speak, dearest, what do you want?"
"I must first explain to you--"
"Do so unhesitatingly."
"Well, then, your majesty can confer the greatest, the most ineffable pleasure upon me."
"What is it?" said the queen, a little distant in her manner, from an uneasiness of feeling produced by this remark. "But do not forget, my good Chevreuse, that I am quite as much under my son"s influence as I was formerly under my husband"s."
"I will not be too hard, madame."
"Call me as you used to do; it will be a sweet echo of our happy youth."
"Well, then, my dear mistress, my darling Anne--"
"Do you know Spanish, still?"
"Yes."
"Ask me in Spanish, then."