my dear sire, without having my poor heart burst with
despair.”
And Marie de Mancini did shed floods of tears. On his part,
the king, much affected, carried his handkerchief to his
mouth, and stifled a sob.
“See,” said she, “the carriages have stopped, my sister
waits for me, the time is come; what you are about to decide
upon will be decided for life. Oh, sire! you are willing,
then, that I should lose you? You are willing, then, Louis,
that she to whom you have said `I love you,’ should belong
to another than to her king; to her master, to her lover?
Oh! courage, Louis! courage! One word, a single word! Say `I
will!’ and all my life is enchained to yours, and all my
heart is yours forever.”
The king made no reply. Mary then looked at him as Dido
looked at AEneas in the Elysian fields, fierce and
disdainful.
“Farewell, then,” said she; “farewell life! love! heaven!”
And she took a step away. The king detained her, seized her
hand, which he pressed to his lips, and despair prevailing
over the resolution he appeared to have inwardly formed, he
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
let fall upon that beautiful hand a burning tear of regret,
which made Mary start, so really had that tear burnt her.
She saw the humid eyes of the king, his pale brow, his
convulsed lips, and cried, with an accent that cannot be
described, —
“Oh, sire! you are a king, you weep, and yet I depart!”
As his sole reply, the king hid his face in his
handkerchief. The officer uttered something so like a roar
that it frightened the horses. Mademoiselle de Mancini,
quite indignant, quitted the king’s arm, hastily entered the
carriage, crying to the coachman, “Go on, go on, and quick!”
The coachman obeyed, flogged his mules, and the heavy
carriage rocked upon its creaking axle, whilst the king of
France, alone, cast down, annihilated, did not dare to look
either behind or before him.
CHAPTER 14
In which the King and the Lieutenant each give Proofs of Memory
When the king, like all the people in the world who are in
love, had long and attentively watched disappear in the
distance the carriage which bore away his mistress; when he
had turned and turned again a hundred times to the same side
and had at length succeeded in somewhat calming the
agitation of his heart and thoughts, he recollected that he
was not alone. The officer still held the horse by the
bridle, and had not lost all hope of seeing the king recover
his resolution. He had still the resource of mounting and
riding after the carriage; they would have lost nothing by
waiting a little. But the imagination of the lieutenant of
the musketeers was too rich and too brilliant; it left far
behind it that of the king, who took care not to allow
himself to be carried away to any such excess. He contented
himself with approaching the officer, and in a doleful
voice, “Come,” said he, “let us be gone; all is ended. To
horse!”
The officer imitated this carriage, this slowness, this
sadness, and leisurely mounted his horse. The king pushed on
sharply, the lieutenant followed him. At the bridge Louis
turned around for the last time. The lieutenant, patient as
a god who has eternity behind and before him, still hoped
for a return of energy. But it was groundless, nothing
appeared. Louis gained the street which led to the castle,
and entered as seven was striking. When the king had
returned, and the musketeer, who saw everything, had seen a
corner of the tapestry over the cardinal’s window lifted up,
he breathed a profound sigh, like a man unloosed from the
tightest bounds, and said in a low voice:
“Now, then, my officer, I hope that it is over.”
The king summoned his gentleman. “Please to understand I
shall receive nobody before two o’clock,” said he.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Sire,” replied the gentleman, “there is, however, some one
who requests admittance.”
“Who is that?”
“Your lieutenant of musketeers.”
“He who accompanied me?”
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