Raoul was in Madame’s presence. Henrietta, more charming than ever, was half lying, half reclining in her arm-chair, her little feet upon an embroidered velvet cushion; she was playing with a little kitten with long silky fur, which was biting her fingers and hanging by the lace of her collar.
Madame was thinking; she was thinking profoundly. It required both Montalais’s and Raoul’s voice to disturb her from her reverie.
“Your Highness sent for me?” repeated Raoul.
Madame shook her head, as if she were just awakening, and then said: “Good-morning, M. de Bragelonne. Yes, I sent for you. So you have returned from England?”
“Yes, Madame, and I am at your royal Highness’s commands.”
“Thank you. Leave us, Montalais!” and the latter left the room.
“You have a few minutes to give me, M. de Bragelonne, have you not?”
“All my life is at your royal Highness’s disposal,” Raoul returned, with respect, guessing that there was something serious under all these outward courtesies of Madame; nor was he displeased, indeed, to observe the seriousness of her manner, feeling persuaded that there was some sort of affinity between Madame’s sentiments and his own. In fact, every one at court of any perception at all well knew the capricious fancy and absurd despotism of the princess’s singular character. Madame had been flattered beyond all bounds by the King’s attentions; she had made herself talked about; she had inspired the Queen with that mortal jealousy which is the gnawing worm at the root of every woman’s happiness. Madame, in a word, in her attempts to cure a wounded pride, had found that her heart had become deeply and passionately attached.
We know what Madame had done to recall Raoul, who had been sent out of the way by Louis XIV. Raoul did not know of her letter to Charles II, although d’Artagnan had guessed its contents. Who will undertake to account for that seemingly inexplicable mixture of love and vanity, that passionate tenderness of feeling, that prodigious duplicity of conduct? No one can, indeed; not even the bad angel who kindles the love of coquetry in the heart of woman.
“M. de Bragelonne,” said the princess, after a moment’s pause, “have you returned satisfied?”
Bragelonne looked at Madame Henrietta, and seeing how pale she was, from what she was keeping back, from what she was burning to disclose, replied: “Satisfied? What is there for me to be satisfied or dissatisfied about, Madame?”
“But what are those things with which a man of your age and of your appearance is usually either satisfied or dissatisfied?”
“How eager she is?” thought Raoul, terrified. “What is it that she is going to breathe into my heart?” and then, frightened at what she might possibly be going to tell him, and wishing to put off the moment so wished for but so dreadful, when he should learn all, he replied, “I left behind me, Madame, a dear friend in good health, and on my return I find him very ill.”
“You refer to M. de Guiche,” replied Madame Henrietta, with the most imperturbable self-possession; “I have heard he is a very dear friend of yours.”
“He is, indeed, Madame.”
“Well, it is quite true he has been wounded; but he is better now. Oh, M. de Guiche is not to be pitied!” she said hurriedly; and then, recovering herself, added, “But has he anything to complain of? Has he complained of anything? Is there any cause of grief or sorrow with which we are not acquainted?”
“I allude only to his wound, Madame.”
“So much the better, then; for in other respects M. de Guiche seems to be very happy,- he is always in very high spirits. I am sure that you, M. de Bragelonne, would far prefer to be, like him, wounded only in the body,- for what indeed, is such a wound, after all?”
Raoul started. “Alas!” he said to himself, “she is returning to it.” He made no reply.
“What did you say?” she inquired.
“I did not say anything, Madame.”
“You did not say anything. You disapprove of my observation, then. You are perfectly satisfied, I suppose?”
Raoul approached closer to her. “Madame,” he said, “your royal Highness wishes to say something to me, and your instinctive kindness and generosity of disposition induce you to be careful and considerate as to your manner of conveying it. Will your royal Highness throw this kind forbearance aside? I am strong, and I am listening.”