foolish reports that you have come to see me so early in the
day?”
“No, I came to see you, in the first place, and to remind
you of those habits of our earlier days, so delightful to
remember, when we used to wander about together at
Vincennes, and, sitting beneath an oak, or in some sylvan
shade, used to talk of those we loved, and who loved us.”
“Do you propose that we should go out together now?”
“My carriage is here, and I have three hours at my
disposal.”
“I am not dressed yet, Marguerite; but if you wish that we
should talk together, we can, without going to the woods of
Vincennes, find in my own garden here, beautiful trees,
shady groves, a greensward covered with daisies and violets,
the perfume of which can be perceived from where we are
sitting.”
“I regret your refusal, my dear marquise, for I wanted to
pour out my whole heart into yours.”
“I repeat again, Marguerite, my heart is yours just as much
in this room, or beneath the lime-trees in the garden here,
as it would be under the oaks in the wood yonder.”
“It is not the same thing for me. In approaching Vincennes,
marquise, my ardent aspirations approach nearer to that
object towards which they have for some days past been
directed.” The marquise suddenly raised her head. “Are you
surprised, then, that I am still thinking of Saint-Mande?”
“Of Saint-Mande?” exclaimed Madame de Belliere; and the
looks of both women met each other like two resistless
swords.
“You, so proud!” said the marquise, disdainfully.
“I, so proud!” replied Madame Vanel. “Such is my nature. I
do not forgive neglect — I cannot endure infidelity. When I
leave any one who weeps at my abandonment, I feel induced
still to love him; but when others forsake me and laugh at
their infidelity, I love distractedly.”
Madame de Belliere could not restrain an involuntary
movement.
“She is jealous,” said Marguerite to herself.
“Then,” continued the marquise, “you are quite enamored of
the Duke of Buckingham — I mean of M. Fouquet?” Elise felt
the allusion, and her blood seemed to congeal in her heart.
“And you wished to go to Vincennes, — to Saint-Mande,
even?”
“I hardly know what I wished: you would have advised me
perhaps.”
“In what respect?”
“You have often done so.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Most certainly I should not have done so in the present
instance, for I do not forgive as you do. I am less loving,
perhaps; when my heart has been once wounded, it remains so
always.”
“But M. Fouquet has not wounded you,” said Marguerite Vanel,
with the most perfect simplicity.
“You perfectly understand what I mean. M. Fouquet has not
wounded me; I do not know of either obligation or injury
received at his hands, but you have reason to complain of
him. You are my friend, and I am afraid I should not advise
you as you would like.”
“Ah! you are prejudging the case.”
“The sighs you spoke of just now are more than indications.”
“You overwhelm me,” said the young woman suddenly, as if
collecting her whole strength, like a wrestler preparing for
a last struggle; “you take only my evil dispositions and my
weaknesses into calculation, and do not speak of my pure and
generous feelings. If, at this moment, I feel instinctively
attracted towards the superintendent, if I even make an
advance to him, which, I confess, is very probable, my
motive for it is, that M. Fouquet’s fate deeply affects me,
and because he is, in my opinion, one of the most
unfortunate men living.”
“Ah!” said the marquise, placing her hand upon her heart,
“something new, then, has occurred?”
“Do you not know it?”
“I am utterly ignorant of everything about him,” said Madame
de Belliere, with the poignant anguish that suspends thought
and speech, and even life itself.
“In the first place, then, the king’s favor is entirely
withdrawn from M. Fouquet, and conferred on M. Colbert.”
“So it is stated.”
“It is very clear, since the discovery of the plot of
Belle-Isle.”
“I was told that the discovery of the fortifications there