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.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“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 looked quite
bewildered.
“Yes,” said she; “yes, I know the clicking of those pattens!
It is our excellent mother. M. le Vicomte, what a pity it is
the window looks upon a stone pavement, and that fifty paces
below it.”
Raoul glanced at the balcony in despair. Louise seized his
arm and held it tight.
“Oh, how silly I am!” said Montalais, “have I not the
robe-of-ceremony closet? It looks as if it were made on
purpose.”
It was quite time to act; Madame de Saint-Remy was coming up
at a quicker pace than usual. She gained the landing at the
moment when Montalais, as in all scenes of surprises, shut
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later