“You asked me for proofs,” she said; “do not be astonished, then, if I give you them. But if you do not think you have courage enough to confront them, there is still time to withdraw.”
“I thank you, Madame,” said Bragelonne; “but I came here to be convinced. You promised to convince me; do so.”
“Enter, then,” said Madame, “and shut the door behind you.”
Bragelonne obeyed, and then turned towards the princess, whom he interrogated by a look.
“You know where you are, I suppose?” inquired Madame Henrietta.
“Everything leads me to believe that I am in Mademoiselle de la Valliere’s room.”
“You are.”
“But I would observe to your Highness that this room is a room, and is not a proof.”
“Wait,” said the princess, as she walked to the foot of the bed, folded up the screen into its several compartments, and stooped down towards the floor. “Look here,” she continued; “stoop down, and lift up this trap-door.”
“A trap-door!” said Raoul, astonished; for d’Artagnan’s words recurred to his mind, and he remembered that d’Artagnan had made vague use of that word. He looked in vain for some cleft or crevice which might indicate an opening, or a ring to assist in lifting up some portion of the planking.
“Ah! that is true,” said Madame Henrietta, smiling; “I forgot the secret spring,- the fourth plank of the flooring. Press on the spot where you will observe a knot in the wood. Those are the instructions. Press, Viscount! press, I say, yourself!”
Raoul, pale as death, pressed his finger on the spot which had been indicated to him; at the same moment the spring began to work, and the trap rose of its own accord.
“It is very ingenious, certainly,” said the princess; “and one can see that the architect foresaw that it would be a small hand which would have to employ that device. See how easily the trap-door opens without assistance!”
“A staircase!” cried Raoul.
“Yes; and a very pretty one too,” said Madame Henrietta. “See, Viscount, the staircase has a balustrade, intended to prevent the falling of timid persons, who might be tempted to descend; and I will risk myself on it accordingly. Come, Viscount, follow me!”
“But before following you, Madame, may I ask whither this staircase leads?”
“Ah! true; I forgot to tell you. You know, perhaps, that formerly M. de Saint-Aignan lived in the very next apartment to the King’s?”
“Yes, Madame, I am aware of that,- that was the arrangement, at least, before I left; and more than once I have had the honor of visiting him in his old rooms.”
“Well, he obtained the King’s leave to change that convenient and beautiful apartment for the two rooms to which this staircase will conduct us, and which together form a lodging for him twice as small and at ten times greater distance from the King,- a close proximity to whom is by no means disdained, in general, by the gentlemen belonging to the court.”
“Very good, Madame,” returned Raoul; “but go on, I beg, for I do not yet understand.”
“Well, then, it accidentally happened,” continued the princess, “that M. de Saint-Aignan’s apartment is situated underneath the apartments of my maids of honor, and particularly underneath the room of La Valliere.”
“But what was the motive of this trap-door and this staircase?”
“That I cannot tell you. Would you like to go down to M. de Saint-Aignan’s rooms? Perhaps we shall there find the solution of the enigma.”
Madame set the example by going down herself; and Raoul, sighing deeply, followed her. At every step Bragelonne took, he advanced farther into that mysterious apartment which had been witness to La Valliere’s sighs, and still retained the sweetest perfume of her presence. Bragelonne fancied that he perceived, as he inhaled his every breath, that the young girl must have passed through there. Then succeeded to these emanations of herself, which he regarded as invisible though certain proofs, the flowers she preferred to all others, the books of her own selection. Had Raoul preserved a single doubt on the subject, it would have vanished at the secret harmony of tastes and disposition of the mind shown in the things of common use. La Valliere, in Bragelonne’s eyes, was present there in every article of furniture, in the color of the hangings, in everything that surrounded him. Dumb, and completely overwhelmed there was nothing further for him to learn, and he followed his pitiless conductress as blindly as the culprit follows the executioner. Madame, as cruel as all women of delicate and nervous temperaments are, did not spare him the slightest detail. But it must be admitted that notwithstanding the kind of apathy into which he had fallen, none of these details, even had he been left alone, would have escaped him. The happiness of the woman who loves, when that happiness is derived from a rival, is a torture for a jealous man; but for a jealous man such as Raoul was, for that heart which for the first time was steeped in gall and bitterness, Louise’s happiness was in reality an ignominious death, a death of body and soul. He divined all,- their hands clasped in each other’s, their faces drawn close together, and reflected, side by side, in loving proximity, as they gazed upon the mirrors around them,- so sweet an occupation for lovers, who, as they thus see themselves twice over, impress the picture more enduringly in their memories. He divined the kiss unseen behind the heavy curtains falling free of their bands. He translated into feverish pains the eloquence of the couches hid in their shadow. That luxury, that studied elegance, full of intoxication; that extreme care to spare the loved object every annoyance or to occasion her a delightful surprise; that strength and power of love multiplied by the strength and power of royalty itself,- struck Raoul a mortal blow. O, if there be anything which can assuage the tortures of jealousy, it is the inferiority of the man who is preferred to yourself; while, on the very contrary, if there be a hell within hell, a torture without name in language, it is the almightiness of a god placed at the disposal of a rival, together with youth, beauty, and grace. In moments such as these, God himself seems to have taken part against the rejected lover.