第 二十二 章 · Chapter XXII. THE BALLET OF LA MERLAISON

. Chapter XXII. THE BALLET OF LA MERLAISON

On the morrow, nothing was talked of in Paris but the ball which the

aldermen of the city were to give to the king and queen, and in which

their Majesties were to dance the famous La Merlaison—the favorite

ballet of the king.

Eight days had been occupied in preparations at the Hôtel de Ville for

this important evening. The city carpenters had erected scaffolds upon

which the invited ladies were to be placed; the city grocer had

ornamented the chambers with two hundred _flambeaux_ of white wax, a

piece of luxury unheard of at that period; and twenty violins were

ordered, and the price for them fixed at double the usual rate, upon

condition, said the report, that they should be played all night.

At ten o’clock in the morning the Sieur de la Coste, ensign in the

king’s Guards, followed by two officers and several archers of that

body, came to the city registrar, named Clement, and demanded of him

all the keys of the rooms and offices of the hôtel. These keys were

given up to him instantly. Each of them had a ticket attached to it, by

which it might be recognized; and from that moment the Sieur de la

Coste was charged with the care of all the doors and all the avenues.

At eleven o’clock came in his turn Duhallier, captain of the Guards,

bringing with him fifty archers, who were distributed immediately

through the Hôtel de Ville, at the doors assigned them.

At three o’clock came two companies of the Guards, one French, the

other Swiss. The company of French guards was composed of half of M.

Duhallier’s men and half of M. Dessessart’s men.

At six in the evening the guests began to come. As fast as they

entered, they were placed in the grand saloon, on the platforms

prepared for them.

At nine o’clock Madame la Première Présidente arrived. As next to the

queen, she was the most considerable personage of the fête, she was

received by the city officials, and placed in a box opposite to that

which the queen was to occupy.

At ten o’clock, the king’s collation, consisting of preserves and other

delicacies, was prepared in the little room on the side of the church

of St. Jean, in front of the silver buffet of the city, which was

guarded by four archers.

At midnight great cries and loud acclamations were heard. It was the

king, who was passing through the streets which led from the Louvre to

the Hôtel de Ville, and which were all illuminated with colored

lanterns.

Immediately the aldermen, clothed in their cloth robes and preceded by

six sergeants, each holding a _flambeau_ in his hand, went to attend

upon the king, whom they met on the steps, where the provost of the

merchants made him the speech of welcome—a compliment to which his

Majesty replied with an apology for coming so late, laying the blame

upon the cardinal, who had detained him till eleven o’clock, talking of

affairs of state.

His Majesty, in full dress, was accompanied by his royal Highness, M.

le Comte de Soissons, by the Grand Prior, by the Duc de Longueville, by

the Duc d’Eubœuf, by the Comte d’Harcourt, by the Comte de la

Roche-Guyon, by M. de Liancourt, by M. de Baradas, by the Comte de

Cramail, and by the Chevalier de Souveray. Everybody noticed that the

king looked dull and preoccupied.

A private room had been prepared for the king and another for Monsieur.

In each of these closets were placed masquerade dresses. The same had

been done for the queen and Madame the President. The nobles and ladies

of their Majesties’ suites were to dress, two by two, in chambers

prepared for the purpose. Before entering his closet the king desired

to be informed the moment the cardinal arrived.

Half an hour after the entrance of the king, fresh acclamations were

heard; these announced the arrival of the queen. The aldermen did as

they had done before, and preceded by their sergeants, advanced to

receive their illustrious guest. The queen entered the great hall; and

it was remarked that, like the king, she looked dull and even weary.

At the moment she entered, the curtain of a small gallery which to that

time had been closed, was drawn, and the pale face of the cardinal

appeared, he being dressed as a Spanish cavalier. His eyes were fixed

upon those of the queen, and a smile of terrible joy passed over his

lips; the queen did not wear her diamond studs.

The queen remained for a short time to receive the compliments of the

city dignitaries and to reply to the salutations of the ladies. All at

once the king appeared with the cardinal at one of the doors of the

hall. The cardinal was speaking to him in a low voice, and the king was

very pale.

The king made his way through the crowd without a mask, and the ribbons

of his doublet scarcely tied. He went straight to the queen, and in an

altered voice said, “Why, madame, have you not thought proper to wear

your diamond studs, when you know it would give me so much

gratification?”

The queen cast a glance around her, and saw the cardinal behind, with a

diabolical smile on his countenance.

“Sire,” replied the queen, with a faltering voice, “because, in the

midst of such a crowd as this, I feared some accident might happen to

them.”

“And you were wrong, madame. If I made you that present it was that you

might adorn yourself therewith. I tell you that you were wrong.”

The voice of the king was tremulous with anger. Everybody looked and

listened with astonishment, comprehending nothing of what passed.

“Sire,” said the queen, “I can send for them to the Louvre, where they

are, and thus your Majesty’s wishes will be complied with.”

“Do so, madame, do so, and that at once; for within an hour the ballet

will commence.”

The queen bent in token of submission, and followed the ladies who were

to conduct her to her room. On his part the king returned to his

apartment.

There was a moment of trouble and confusion in the assembly. Everybody

had remarked that something had passed between the king and queen; but

both of them had spoken so low that everybody, out of respect, withdrew

several steps, so that nobody had heard anything. The violins began to

sound with all their might, but nobody listened to them.

The king came out first from his room. He was in a most elegant hunting

costume; and Monsieur and the other nobles were dressed like him. This

was the costume that best became the king. So dressed, he really

appeared the first gentleman of his kingdom.

The cardinal drew near to the king, and placed in his hand a small

casket. The king opened it, and found in it two diamond studs.

“What does this mean?” demanded he of the cardinal.

“Nothing,” replied the latter; “only, if the queen has the studs, which

I very much doubt, count them, sire, and if you only find ten, ask her

Majesty who can have stolen from her the two studs that are here.”

The king looked at the cardinal as if to interrogate him; but he had

not time to address any question to him—a cry of admiration burst from

every mouth. If the king appeared to be the first gentleman of his

kingdom, the queen was without doubt the most beautiful woman in

France.

It is true that the habit of a huntress became her admirably. She wore

a beaver hat with blue feathers, a surtout of gray-pearl velvet,

fastened with diamond clasps, and a petticoat of blue satin,

embroidered with silver. On her left shoulder sparkled the diamond

studs, on a bow of the same color as the plumes and the petticoat.

The king trembled with joy and the cardinal with vexation; although,

distant as they were from the queen, they could not count the studs.

The queen had them. The only question was, had she ten or twelve?

At that moment the violins sounded the signal for the ballet. The king

advanced toward Madame the President, with whom he was to dance, and

his Highness Monsieur with the queen. They took their places, and the

ballet began.

The king danced facing the queen, and every time he passed by her, he

devoured with his eyes those studs of which he could not ascertain the

number. A cold sweat covered the brow of the cardinal.

The ballet lasted an hour, and had sixteen _entrées_. The ballet ended

amid the applause of the whole assemblage, and everyone reconducted his

lady to her place; but the king took advantage of the privilege he had

of leaving his lady, to advance eagerly toward the queen.

“I thank you, madame,” said he, “for the deference you have shown to my

wishes, but I think you want two of the studs, and I bring them back to

you.”

With these words he held out to the queen the two studs the cardinal

had given him.

“How, sire?” cried the young queen, affecting surprise, “you are giving

me, then, two more: I shall have fourteen.”

In fact the king counted them, and the twelve studs were all on her

Majesty’s shoulder.

The king called the cardinal.

“What does this mean, Monsieur Cardinal?” asked the king in a severe

tone.

“This means, sire,” replied the cardinal, “that I was desirous of

presenting her Majesty with these two studs, and that not daring to

offer them myself, I adopted this means of inducing her to accept

them.”

“And I am the more grateful to your Eminence,” replied Anne of Austria,

with a smile that proved she was not the dupe of this ingenious

gallantry, “from being certain that these two studs alone have cost you

as much as all the others cost his Majesty.”

Then saluting the king and the cardinal, the queen resumed her way to

the chamber in which she had dressed, and where she was to take off her

costume.

The attention which we have been obliged to give, during the

commencement of the chapter, to the illustrious personages we have

introduced into it, has diverted us for an instant from him to whom

Anne of Austria owed the extraordinary triumph she had obtained over

the cardinal; and who, confounded, unknown, lost in the crowd gathered

at one of the doors, looked on at this scene, comprehensible only to

four persons—the king, the queen, his Eminence, and himself.

The queen had just regained her chamber, and D’Artagnan was about to

retire, when he felt his shoulder lightly touched. He turned and saw a

young woman, who made him a sign to follow her. The face of this young

woman was covered with a black velvet mask; but notwithstanding this

precaution, which was in fact taken rather against others than against

him, he at once recognized his usual guide, the light and intelligent

Mme. Bonacieux.

On the evening before, they had scarcely seen each other for a moment

at the apartment of the Swiss guard, Germain, whither D’Artagnan had

sent for her. The haste which the young woman was in to convey to the

queen the excellent news of the happy return of her messenger prevented

the two lovers from exchanging more than a few words. D’Artagnan

therefore followed Mme. Bonacieux moved by a double sentiment—love and

curiosity. All the way, and in proportion as the corridors became more

deserted, D’Artagnan wished to stop the young woman, seize her and gaze

upon her, were it only for a minute; but quick as a bird she glided

between his hands, and when he wished to speak to her, her finger

placed upon her mouth, with a little imperative gesture full of grace,

reminded him that he was under the command of a power which he must

blindly obey, and which forbade him even to make the slightest

complaint. At length, after winding about for a minute or two, Mme.

Bonacieux opened the door of a closet, which was entirely dark, and led

D’Artagnan into it. There she made a fresh sign of silence, and opened

a second door concealed by tapestry. The opening of this door disclosed

a brilliant light, and she disappeared.

D’Artagnan remained for a moment motionless, asking himself where he

could be; but soon a ray of light which penetrated through the chamber,

together with the warm and perfumed air which reached him from the same

aperture, the conversation of two of three ladies in language at once

respectful and refined, and the word “Majesty” several times repeated,

indicated clearly that he was in a closet attached to the queen’s

apartment. The young man waited in comparative darkness and listened.

The queen appeared cheerful and happy, which seemed to astonish the

persons who surrounded her and who were accustomed to see her almost

always sad and full of care. The queen attributed this joyous feeling

to the beauty of the fête, to the pleasure she had experienced in the

ballet; and as it is not permissible to contradict a queen, whether she

smile or weep, everybody expatiated on the gallantry of the aldermen of

the city of Paris.

Although D’Artagnan did not at all know the queen, he soon

distinguished her voice from the others, at first by a slightly foreign

accent, and next by that tone of domination naturally impressed upon

all royal words. He heard her approach and withdraw from the partially

open door; and twice or three times he even saw the shadow of a person

intercept the light.

At length a hand and an arm, surpassingly beautiful in their form and

whiteness, glided through the tapestry. D’Artagnan at once comprehended

that this was his recompense. He cast himself on his knees, seized the

hand, and touched it respectfully with his lips. Then the hand was

withdrawn, leaving in his an object which he perceived to be a ring.

The door immediately closed, and D’Artagnan found himself again in

complete obscurity.

D’Artagnan placed the ring on his finger, and again waited; it was

evident that all was not yet over. After the reward of his devotion,

that of his love was to come. Besides, although the ballet was danced,

the evening had scarcely begun. Supper was to be served at three, and

the clock of St. Jean had struck three quarters past two.

The sound of voices diminished by degrees in the adjoining chamber. The

company was then heard departing; then the door of the closet in which

D’Artagnan was, was opened, and Mme. Bonacieux entered.

“You at last?” cried D’Artagnan.

“Silence!” said the young woman, placing her hand upon his lips;

“silence, and go the same way you came!”

“But where and when shall I see you again?” cried D’Artagnan.

“A note which you will find at home will tell you. Begone, begone!”

At these words she opened the door of the corridor, and pushed

D’Artagnan out of the room. D’Artagnan obeyed like a child, without the

least resistance or objection, which proved that he was really in love.