Chapter XXVI. The Flight.
La Valliere followed the patrol as it left the courtyard. Thepatrol bent its steps towards the right, by the Rue St. Honore,and mechanically La Valliere turned to the left. Her resolution wastaken--her determination fixed; she wished to betake herself to theconvent of the Carmelites at Chaillot, the superior of which enjoyeda reputation for severity which made the worldly-minded people of thecourt tremble. La Valliere had never seen Paris, she had never gone outon foot, and so would have been unable to find her way even had she beenin a calmer frame of mind than was then the case; and this may explainwhy she ascended, instead of descending, the Rue St. Honore. Her onlythought was to get away from the Palais Royal, and this she was doing;she had heard it said that Chaillot looked out upon the Seine, and sheaccordingly directed her steps towards the Seine. She took the Rue deCoq, and not being able to cross the Louvre, bore towards the church ofSaint Germain l'Auxerrois, proceeding along the site of the colonnadewhich was subsequently built there by Perrault. In a very short time shereached the quays. Her steps were rapid and agitated; she scarcely feltthe weakness which reminded her of having sprained her foot when veryyoung, and which obliged her to limp slightly. At any other hour inthe day her countenance would have awakened the suspicions of the leastclear-sighted, attracted the attention of the most indifferent. But athalf-past two in the morning, the streets of Paris are almost, if notquite, deserted, and scarcely is any one to be seen but the hard-workingartisan on his way to earn his daily bread or the roistering idlers ofthe streets, who are returning to their homes after a night of riot anddebauchery; for the former the day was beginning, and for the latterit was just closing. La Valliere was afraid of both faces, in which herignorance of Parisian types did not permit her to distinguish the typeof probity from that of dishonesty. The appearance of misery alarmedher, and all she met seemed either vile or miserable. Her dress, whichwas the same she had worn during the previous evening, was elegant evenin its careless disorder; for it was the one in which she had presentedherself to the queen-mother; and, moreover, when she drew aside themantle which covered her face, in order to enable her to see the way shewas going, her pallor and her beautiful eyes spoke an unknown languageto the men she met, and, unconsciously, the poor fugitive seemedto invite the brutal remarks of the one class, or to appeal to thecompassion of the other. La Valliere still walked on in the same way,breathless and hurried, until she reached the top of the Place de Greve.She stopped from time to time, placed her hand upon her heart, leanedagainst a wall until she could breathe freely again, and then continuedon her course more rapidly than before. On reaching the Place de GreveLa Valliere suddenly came upon a group of three drunken men, reeling andstaggering along, who were just leaving a boat which they had made fastto the quay; the boat was freighted with wines, and it was apparent thatthey had done ample justice to the merchandise. They were celebratingtheir convivial exploits in three different keys, when suddenly, as theyreached the end of the railing leading down to the quay, they found anobstacle in their path, in the shape of this young girl. La Vallierestopped; while they, on their part, at the appearance of the young girldressed in court costume, also halted, and seizing each other by thehand, they surrounded La Valliere, singing,--
"Oh! all ye weary wights, who mope alone, Come drink, and sing andlaugh, round Venus' throne."
La Valliere at once understood that the men were insulting her, andwished to prevent her passing; she tried to do so several times, buther efforts were useless. Her limbs failed her; she felt she was on thepoint of falling, and uttered a cry of terror. At the same momentthe circle which surrounded her was suddenly broken through in a mostviolent manner. One of her insulters was knocked to the left, anotherfell rolling over and over to the right, close to the water's edge,while the third could hardly keep his feet. An officer of the musketeersstood face to face with the young girl, with threatening brow and handraised to carry out his threat. The drunken fellows, at sight of theuniform, made their escape with what speed their staggering limbs couldlend them, all the more eagerly for the proof of strength which thewearer of the uniform had just afforded them.
"Is it possible," exclaimed the musketeer, "that it can be Mademoisellede la Valliere?"
La Valliere, bewildered by what had just happened, and confounded byhearing her name pronounced, looked up and recognized D'Artagnan. "Oh,M. d'Artagnan! it is indeed I;" and at the same moment she seizedhis arm. "You will protect me, will you not?" she added, in a tone ofentreaty.
"Most certainly I will protect you; but, in Heaven's name, where are yougoing at this hour?"
"I am going to Chaillot."
"You are going to Chaillot by way of La Rapee! why, mademoiselle, youare turning your back upon it."
"In that case, monsieur, be kind enough to put me in the right way, andto go with me a short distance."
"Most willingly."
"But how does it happen that I have found you here? By what mercifulintervention were you sent to my assistance? I almost seem to bedreaming, or to be losing my senses."
"I happened to be here, mademoiselle, because I have a house in thePlace de Greve, at the sign of the Notre-Dame, the rent of which I wentto receive yesterday, and where I, in fact, passed the night. And Ialso wished to be at the palace early, for the purposes of inspecting myposts."
"Thank you," said La Valliere.
"That is what _I_ was doing," said D'Artagnan to himself; "but what is_she_ doing, and why is she going to Chaillot at such an hour?" And heoffered her his arm, which she took, and began to walk with increasedprecipitation, which ill-concealed, however, her weakness. D'Artagnanperceived it, and proposed to La Valliere that she should take a littlerest, which she refused.
"You are ignorant, perhaps, where Chaillot is?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"Quite so."
"It is a great distance."
"That matters very little."
"It is at least a league."
"I can walk it."
D'Artagnan did not reply; he could tell, merely by the tone of a voice,when a resolution was real or not. He rather bore along rather thanaccompanied La Valliere, until they perceived the elevated ground ofChaillot.
"What house are you going to, mademoiselle?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"To the Carmelites, monsieur."
"To the Carmelites?" repeated D'Artagnan, in amazement.
"Yes; and since Heaven has directed you towards me to give me yoursupport on my road, accept both my thanks and my adieux."
"To the Carmelites! Your adieux! Are you going to become a nun?"exclaimed D'Artagnan.
"Yes, monsieur."
"What, you!!!" There was in this "you," which we have marked bythree notes of exclamation in order to render it as expressive aspossible,--there was, we repeat, in this "you" a complete poem; itrecalled to La Valliere her old recollections of Blois, and her newrecollections of Fontainebleau; it said to her, "_You_, who might behappy with Raoul; _you_, who might be powerful with Louis; _you_ aboutto become a nun!"
"Yes, monsieur," she said, "I am going to devote myself to the serviceof Heaven; and to renounce the world entirely."
"But are you not mistaken with regard to your vocation,--are you notmistaken in supposing it to be the will of Heaven?"
"No, since Heaven has been pleased to throw you in my way. Had it notbeen for you, I should certainly have sunk from fatigue on the road, andsince Heaven, I repeat, has thrown you in my way, it is because it haswilled that I should carry out my intention."
"Oh!" said D'Artagnan, doubtingly, "that is a rather subtle distinction,I think."
"Whatever it may be," returned the young girl, "I have acquainted youwith the steps I have taken, and with my fixed resolution. And, now, Ihave one last favor to ask of you, even while I return you my thanks.The king is entirely ignorant of my flight from the Palais Royal, and isignorant also of what I am about to do."
"The king ignorant, you say!" exclaimed D'Artagnan. "Take care,mademoiselle; you are not aware
of what you are doing. No one ought todo anything with which the king is unacquainted, especially those whobelong to the court."
"I no longer belong to the court, monsieur."
D'Artagnan looked at the young girl with increasing astonishment.
"Do not be uneasy, monsieur," she continued: "I have well calculatedeverything; and were it not so, it would now be too late to reconsidermy resolution,--all is decided."
"Well, mademoiselle, what do you wish me to do?"
"In the name of that sympathy which misfortune inspires, by yourgenerous feeling, and by your honor as a gentleman, I entreat you topromise me one thing."
"Name it."
"Swear to me, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that you will not tell the king thatyou have seen me, and that I am at the Carmelites."
"I will not swear that," said D'Artagnan, shaking his head.
"Why?"
"Because I know the king, I know you, I know myself even, nay, the wholehuman race, too well; no, no, I will not swear that!"
"In that case," cried La Valliere, with an energy of which one wouldhardly have thought her capable, "instead of the blessing which I shouldhave implored for you until my dying day, I will invoke a curse, for youare rendering me the most miserable creature that ever lived."
We have already observed that D'Artagnan could easily recognize theaccents of truth and sincerity, and he could not resist this lastappeal. He saw by her face how bitterly she suffered from a feeling ofdegradation, he remarked her trembling limbs, how her whole slight anddelicate frame was violently agitated by some internal struggle, andclearly perceived that resistance might be fatal. "I will do as youwish, then," he said. "Be satisfied, mademoiselle, I will say nothing tothe king."
"Oh! thanks, thanks," exclaimed La Valliere, "you are the most generousman breathing."
And in her extreme delight she seized hold of D'Artagnan's handsand pressed them between her own. D'Artagnan, who felt himself quiteovercome, said: "This is touching, upon my word; she begins where othersleave off."
And La Valliere, who, in the bitterness of her distress, had sunk uponthe ground, rose and walked towards the convent of the Carmelites,which could now, in the dawning light, be perceived just before them.D'Artagnan followed her at a distance. The entrance-door was half-open;she glided in like a shadow, and thanking D'Artagnan by a partinggesture, disappeared from his sight. When D'Artagnan found himself quitealone, he reflected very profoundly upon what had just taken place."Upon my word," he said, "this looks very much like what is called afalse position. To keep such a secret as that, is to keep a burning coalin one's breeches-pocket, and trust that it may not burn the stuff.And yet, not to keep it when I have sworn to do so is dishonorable. Itgenerally happens that some bright idea or other occurs to me as I amgoing along; but I am very much mistaken if I shall not, now, have to goa long way in order to find the solution of this affair. Yes, but whichway to go? Oh! towards Paris, of course; that is the best way, afterall. Only one must make haste, and in order to make haste four legs arebetter than two, and I, unhappily, only have two. 'A horse, a horse,' asI heard them say at the theatre in London, 'my kingdom for a horse!'And now I think of it, it need not cost me so much as that, for at theBarriere de la Conference there is a guard of musketeers, and instead ofthe one horse I need, I shall find ten there."
So, in pursuance of this resolution, which he adopted with his usualrapidity, D'Artagnan immediately turned his back upon the heights ofChaillot, reached the guard-house, took the fastest horse he could findthere, and was at the palace in less than ten minutes. It was strikingfive as he reached the Palais Royal. The king, he was told, had gone tobed at his usual hour, having been long engaged with M. Colbert, and, inall probability, was still sound asleep. "Come," said D'Artagnan, "shespoke the truth; the king is ignorant of everything; if he only knewone-half of what has happened, the Palais Royal by this time would beturned upside down." [5]