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Ten Years Later. Dumas Alexandre
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Автор произведения Dumas Alexandre
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
It was about ten o’clock in the morning. Anne of Austria was engaged in writing as Monsieur entered. The queen-mother was extremely attached to her son, for he was handsome in person and amiable in disposition. He was, in fact, more affectionate, and it might be, more effeminate than the king. He pleased his mother by those trifling sympathizing attentions all women are glad to receive. Anne of Austria, who would have been rejoiced to have had a daughter, almost found in this, her favorite son, the attentions, solicitude, and playful manners of a child of twelve years of age. All the time he passed with his mother he employed in admiring her arms, in giving his opinion upon her cosmetics, and recipes for compounding essences, in which she was very particular; and then, too, he kissed her hands and cheeks in the most childlike and endearing manner, and had always some sweetmeats to offer her, or some new style of dress to recommend. Anne of Austria loved the king, or rather the regal power in her eldest son; Louis XIV. represented legitimacy by right divine. With the king, her character was that of the queen-mother, with Philip she was simply the mother. The latter knew that, of all places, a mother’s heart is the most compassionate and surest. When quite a child he always fled there for refuge when he and his brother quarreled, often, after having struck him, which constituted the crime of high treason on his part, after certain engagements with hands and nails, in which the king and his rebellious subject indulged in their night-dresses respecting the right to a disputed bed, having their servant Laporte as umpire, – Philip, conqueror, but terrified at victory, used to flee to his mother to obtain reinforcements from her, or at least the assurance of forgiveness, which Louis XIV. granted with difficulty, and after an interval. Anne, from this habit of peaceable intervention, succeeded in arranging the disputes of her sons, and in sharing, at the same time, all their secrets. The king, somewhat jealous of that maternal solicitude which was bestowed particularly on his brother, felt disposed to show towards Anne of Austria more submission and attachment than his character really dictated. Anne of Austria had adopted this line of conduct especially towards the young queen. In this manner she ruled with almost despotic sway over the royal household, and she was already preparing her batteries to govern with the same absolute authority the household of her second son. Anne experienced almost a feeling of pride whenever she saw any one enter her apartment with woe-begone looks, pale cheeks, or red eyes, gathering from appearances that assistance was required either by the weakest or the most rebellious. She was writing, we have said, when Monsieur entered her oratory, not with red eyes or pale cheeks, but restless, out of temper, and annoyed. With an absent air he kissed his mother’s hands, and sat himself down before receiving her permission to do so. Considering the strict rules of etiquette established at the court of Anne of Austria, this forgetfulness of customary civilities was a sign of preoccupation, especially on Philip’s part, who, of his own accord, observed a respect towards her of a somewhat exaggerated character. If, therefore, he so notoriously failed in this regard, there must be a serious cause for it.
“What is the matter, Philip?” inquired Anne of Austria, turning towards her son.
“A good many things,” murmured the prince, in a doleful tone of voice.
“You look like a man who has a great deal to do,” said the queen, laying down her pen. Philip frowned, but did not reply. “Among the various subjects which occupy your mind,” said Anne of Austria, “there must surely be one that absorbs it more than others.”
“One has indeed occupied me more than any other.”
“Well, what is it? I am listening.”
Philip opened his mouth as if to express all the troubles his mind was filled with, and which he seemed to be waiting only for an opportunity of declaring. But he suddenly became silent, and a sigh alone expressed all that his heart was overflowing with.
“Come, Philip, show a little firmness,” said the queen-mother. “When one has to complain of anything, it is generally an individual who is the cause of it. Am I not right?”
“I do not say no, madame.”
“Whom do you wish to speak about? Come, take courage.”
“In fact, madame, what I might possibly have to say must be kept a profound secret; for when a lady is in the case – ”
“Ah! you are speaking of Madame, then?” inquired the queen-mother, with a feeling of the liveliest curiosity.
“Yes.”
“Well, then, if you wish to speak of Madame, do not hesitate to do so. I am your mother, and she is no more than a stranger to me. Yet, as she is my daughter-in-law, rest assured I shall be interested, even were it for your own sake alone, in hearing all you may have to say about her.”
“Pray tell me, madame, in your turn, whether you have not remarked something?”
“‘Something’! Philip? Your words almost frighten me, from their want of meaning. What do you mean by ‘something?’”
“Madame is pretty, certainly.”
“No doubt of it.”
“Yet not altogether beautiful.”
“No, but as she grows older, she will probably become strikingly beautiful. You must have remarked the change which a few years have already made in her. Her beauty will improve more and more; she is now only sixteen years of age. At fifteen I was, myself, very thin; but even as she is at present, Madame is very pretty.”
“And consequently others have remarked it.”
“Undoubtedly, for a woman of ordinary rank is noticed – and with still greater reason a princess.”
“She has been well brought up, I suppose?”
“Madame Henriette, her mother, is a woman somewhat cold in manner, slightly pretentious, but full of noble thoughts. The princess’s education may have been neglected, but her principles, I believe, are good. Such at least was the opinion I formed of her when she resided in France; but she afterwards returned to England, and I am ignorant what may have occurred there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Simply that there are some heads naturally giddy, which are easily turned by prosperity.”
“That is the very word, madame. I think the princess rather giddy.”
“We must not exaggerate, Philip; she is clever and witty, and has a certain amount of coquetry very natural in a young woman; but this defect in persons of high rank and position, is a great advantage at a court. A princess who is tinged with coquetry usually forms a brilliant court; her smile stimulates luxury, arouses wit, and even courage; the nobles, too, fight better for a prince whose wife is beautiful.”
“Thank you extremely, madame,” said Philip, with some temper; “you really have drawn some very alarming pictures for me.”
“In what respect?” asked the queen, with pretended simplicity.
“You know, madame,” said Philip, dolefully, “whether I had or had not a very great dislike to getting married.”
“Now, indeed, you alarm me. You have some serious cause of complaint against Madame.”
“I do not precisely say it is serious.”
“In that case, then, throw aside your doleful looks. If you show yourself to others in your present state, people will take you for a very unhappy husband.”
“The fact is,” replied Philip, “I am not altogether satisfied as a husband, and I shall not be sorry if others know it.”
“For shame, Philip.”
“Well, then, madame, I will tell you frankly that I do not understand the life I am required to lead.”
“Explain yourself.”
“My wife does not seem to belong to me; she is always leaving me for some reason or another. In the mornings there are visits, correspondences, and toilettes; in the evenings, balls and concerts.”
“You are jealous, Philip.”
“I!