THE REGENT'S DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER I.
AN ABBESS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
On the 8th February, 1719, a carriage, bearing the fleur-de-lis ofFrance, with the motto of Orleans, preceded by two outriders and a page,entered the porch of the Abbey of Chelles, precisely as the clock struckten, and, the door having been quickly opened, its two occupants steppedout.
The first was a man of from forty-five to forty-six years of age, short,and rather stout, with a high color, easy in his movements, anddisplaying in every gesture a certain air of high breeding and command.
The second, who followed slowly, was short, and remarkably thin. Hisface, though not precisely ugly, was very disagreeable, although bearingthe evidences of a keen intellect. He seemed to feel the cold, andfollowed his companion, wrapped up in an ample cloak.
The first of these two made his way up the staircase with the air of aman well acquainted with the locality. Passing through a largeantechamber containing several nuns, who bowed to the ground as hepassed, he ran rather than walked to a reception-room, which, it must beconfessed, bore but little trace of that austerity which is ordinarilyascribed to the interior of a cloister.
The other, who followed leisurely, was saluted almost as humbly by thenuns.
"And now," said the first, "wait here and warm yourself, while I go toher, and in ten minutes I will make an end of all these abuses youmention: if she deny, and I want proof, I will call you."
"Ten minutes, monseigneur," replied the man in the cloak; "in two hoursyour highness will not have even broached the subject of your visit. Oh!the Abbess de Chelles is a clever woman!"
So saying, he stretched himself out in an easy chair, which he had drawnnear the fire, and rested his thin legs on the fender.
"Yes, yes," replied he who had been addressed as "your highness;" "Iknow, and if I could forget it, you take care to remind me of it oftenenough. Why did you bring me here to-day through all this wind andsnow?"
"Because you would not come yesterday, monseigneur."
"Yesterday, it was impossible; I had an appointment with Lord Stair atfive o'clock."
"In a house in the Rue des Bons Enfants. My lord does not live anylonger, then, at the English embassy?"
"Abbe, I had forbidden you to follow me."
"Monseigneur, it is my duty to disobey you."
"Well, then, disobey; but let me tell stories at my pleasure, withoutyour having the impertinence to show me that you know it, just for thesake of proving the efficiency of your police."
"Monseigneur may rest easy in future--I will believe anything!"
"I will not promise as much in return, abbe, for here I think you havemade a mistake."
"Monseigneur, I know what I said, and I repeat it."
"But look! no noise, no light, perfect quiet, your account isincorrect; it is evident that we are late."
"Yesterday, monseigneur, where you stand, there was an orchestra offifty musicians; there, where that young sister kneels so devoutly, wasa buffet: what was upon it I cannot tell, but I know it was there, andin the gallery on the left, where a modest supper of lentils and creamcheese is now preparing for the holy sisters, were two hundred people,drinking, dancing, and making--"
"Well, making what?"
"Making love, monseigneur."
"Diable! are you sure of this?"
"Rather more sure than if I had seen it, and that is why you do well incoming to-day, and would have done better in coming yesterday. This sortof life does not become an abbess, monseigneur."
"No, it is only fit for an abbe. Ha!"
"I am a politician, monseigneur."
"Well, my daughter is a political abbess, that is all."
"Oh, let it be so, if it suits you, monseigneur; I am not so particularin point of morals, you know. To-morrow there will be another song ortwo out, but what does that matter?"----"Well, well, wait for me, and Iwill go and scold."
"Take my word for it, monseigneur, if you wish to scold properly you hadbetter do it here, before me; if you fail in memory or arguments, signto me, and I will come to the rescue."
"Yes, yes, you are right," said the person who had undertaken to redresswrongs, and in whom we hope the reader has recognized Philipped'Orleans. "Yes, this scandal must be quieted a little, at any rate: theabbess must not receive more than twice a week. There must be none ofthese dances and assemblies, and the cloisters must be re-established.Mademoiselle d'Orleans passed from gayety to a religious life; she leftthe Palais Royal for Chelles in spite of all I could do to prevent her;now, for five days in the week she must be the abbess, and that willleave her two to play the great lady."
"Ah, monseigneur, you are beginning to see the thing in its truelight."
"Is not this what you wish?"
"It is what is necessary. It seems to me that an abbess who has thirtyvalets, fifteen footmen, ten cooks, eight grooms, and a mute--whofences, plays the horn, and the violincello--who is a surgeon and ahairdresser--who shoots and makes fireworks--cannot be very dull."
"Has not my daughter been told of my arrival," said the duke to an oldnun who crossed the room with a bunch of keys in her hand; "I wish toknow whether I shall go to her, or whether she is coming to me."
"Madame is coming, monseigneur," replied the sister, respectfully.
"It is well," murmured the regent, somewhat impatiently.
"Monseigneur, remember the parable of Jesus driving out themoney-changers from the temple; you know it, or ought to know it, for Itaught it you when I was your preceptor. Now, drive out these musicians,these Pharisees, these comedians and anatomists; three only of eachprofession will make a nice escort for our return."
"Do not fear, I am in a preaching vein."
"Then," replied Dubois, rising, "that is most fortunate, for here sheis."
At this moment a door, leading to the interior of the convent, wasopened, and the person so impatiently expected appeared.
Let us explain who was this worthy person who had succeeded, by repeatedfollies, in rousing the anger of Philippe d'Orleans, the most indulgentman and father in France.
Mademoiselle de Chartres, Louise-Adelaide-d'Orleans, was the second andprettiest of the regent's daughters. She had a beautiful complexion,fine eyes, a good figure, and well-shaped hands. Her teeth weresplendid, and her grandmother, the princess palatine, compared them to astring of pearls in a coral casket. She danced well, sang better, andplayed at sight. She had learned of Cauchereau, one of the first artistsat the opera, with whom she had made much more progress than is commonwith ladies, and especially with princesses. It is true that she wasmost assiduous; the secret of that assiduity will be shortly revealed.
All her tastes were masculine. She appeared to have changed sex with herbrother Louis. She loved dogs and horses; amused herself with pistolsand foils, but cared little for any feminine occupations.
Her chief predilection, however, was for music; she seldom missed anight at the opera when her master Cauchereau performed; and once, whenhe surpassed himself in an air, she exclaimed, "Bravo, bravo, my dearCauchereau!" in a voice audible to the whole house.
The Duchesse d'Orleans judged that the exclamation was somewhatindiscreet for a princess of the blood, and decided that MademoiselleChartres knew enough of music. Cauchereau was well paid, and desired notto return to the Palais Royal. The duchess also begged her daughter tospend a fortnight at the convent of Chelles, the abbess of which, asister of Marechal de Villars, was a friend of hers.
It was doubtless during this retreat that mademoiselle--who dideverything by fits and starts--resolved to renounce the world. Towardthe end of the holy week of 1718, she asked and obtained her father'spermission to spend Easter at Chelles; but at the end of that time,instead of returning to the palais, she expressed a wish to remain as anun.
The duke tried to oppose this, but Mademoiselle de Chartres wasobstinate, and on the 23d of April she took the vows. Then the duketreated with Mademoiselle de Villars for the abbey, and, on th
e promiseof twelve thousand francs, Mademoiselle de Chartres was named abbess inher stead, and she had occupied the post about a year.
This, then, was the abbess of Chelles, who appeared before her father,not surrounded by an elegant and profane court, but followed by six nunsdressed in black and holding torches. There was no sign of frivolity orof pleasure; nothing but the most somber apparel and the most severeaspect. The regent, however, suspected that he had been kept waitingwhile all this was preparing.
"I do not like hypocrisy," said he, sharply, "and can forgive viceswhich are not hidden under the garb of virtues. All these lights,madame, are doubtless the remains of yesterday's illumination. Are allyour flowers so faded, and all your guests so fatigued, that you cannotshow me a single bouquet nor a single dancer?"
"Monsieur," said the abbess in a grave tone, "this is not the place forfetes and amusements."----"Yes," answered the regent, "I see, that ifyou feasted yesterday, you fast to-day."
"Did you come here, monsieur, to catechise? At least what you see shouldreply to any accusations against me."
"I came to tell you, madame," replied the regent, annoyed at beingsupposed to have been duped, "that the life you lead displeases me; yourconduct yesterday was unbecoming an abbess; your austerities to-day areunbecoming a princess of the blood; decide, once for all, between thenun and the court lady. People begin to speak ill of you, and I haveenemies enough of my own, without your saddling me with others from thedepth of your convent."
"Alas, monsieur, in giving entertainments, balls, and concerts, whichhave been quoted as the best in Paris, I have neither pleased thoseenemies, nor you, nor myself. Yesterday was my last interview with theworld; this morning I have taken leave of it forever; and to-day, whilestill ignorant of your visit, I had adopted a determination from which Iwill never depart."
"And what is it?" asked the regent, suspecting that this was only a newspecimen of his daughter's ordinary follies.
"Come to this window and look out," said the abbess.
The regent, in compliance with the invitation, approached the window,and saw a large fire blazing in the middle of the courtyard. Dubois--whowas as curious as if he had really been an abbe--slipped up beside him.
Several people were rapidly passing and repassing before the fire, andthrowing various singular-shaped objects into the flames.
"But what is that?" asked the regent of Dubois, who seemed as muchsurprised as himself.
"That which is burning now?" asked the abbe.----"Yes," replied theregent.
"Ma foi, monseigneur, it looks to me very much like a violincello."
"It is mine," said the abbess, "an excellent violincello by Valeri."
"And you are burning it!" exclaimed the duke.
"All instruments are sources of perdition," said the abbess, in a tonewhich betrayed the most profound remorse.
"Eh, but here is a harpsichord," interrupted the duke.
"My harpsichord, monsieur; it was so perfect that it enticed me towardearthly things; I condemned it this morning."
"And what are those chests of papers with which they are feeding thefire?" asked Dubois, whom the spectacle seemed to interest immensely.
"My music, which I am having burned."
"Your music?" demanded the regent.
"Yes, and even yours," answered the abbess; "look carefully and you willsee your opera of 'Panthee' follow in its turn. You will understand thatmy resolution once taken, its execution was necessarily general."
"Well, madame, this time you are really mad! To light the fire withmusic, and then feed it with bass-viols and harpsichords is really alittle too luxurious."
"I am doing penance, monsieur."
"Hum, say rather that you are refitting your house, and that this is anexcuse for buying new furniture, since you are doubtless tired of theold."
"No, monseigneur, it is no such thing."
"Well, then, what is it? Tell me frankly."
"In truth, I am weary of amusing myself, and, indeed, I intend to actdifferently."
"And what are you going to do?"
"I am going with my nuns to visit my tomb."
"Diable, monseigneur!" exclaimed the abbe, "her wits are gone at last."
"It will be truly edifying, will it not, monsieur?" continued theabbess, gravely.
"Indeed," answered the regent, "if you really do this, I doubt not butpeople will laugh at it twice as much as they did at your suppers."
"Will you accompany me, messieurs?" continued the abbess; "I am going tospend a few minutes in my coffin; it is a fancy I have had a long time."
"You will have plenty of time for that," said the regent; "moreover, youhave not even invented this amusement; for Charles the Fifth, who becamea monk as you became a nun, without exactly knowing why, thought of itbefore you."
"Then you will not go with me, monsieur?" said the abbess.
"I," answered the duke, who had not the least sympathy with somberideas, "I go to see tombs! I go to hear the De Profundis! No, pardieu!and the only thing which consoles me for not being able to escape themsome day, is, that I shall neither see the one nor the other."
"Ah, monsieur," answered the abbess, in a scandalized tone, "you do not,then, believe in the immortality of the soul?"
"I believe that you are raving mad. Confound this abbe, who promises mea feast, and brings me to a funeral."
"By my faith, monseigneur," said Dubois, "I think I prefer theextravagance of yesterday; it was more attractive."
The abbess bowed, and made a few steps toward the door. The duke andDubois remained staring at each other, uncertain whether to laugh orcry.
"One word more," said the duke; "are you decided this time, or is it notsome fever which you have caught from your confessor? If it be real, Ihave nothing to say; but if it be a fever, I desire that they cure youof it. I have Morceau and Chirac, whom I pay for attending on me andmine."
"Monseigneur," answered the abbess, "you forget that I know sufficientof medicine to undertake my own cure, if I were ill: I can, therefore,assure you that I am not. I am a Jansenist; that is all."
"Ah," cried the duke, "this is more of Father le Doux's work, thatexecrable Benedictine! At least I know a treatment which will curehim."
"What is that?" asked the abbess.
"The Bastille."
And he went out in a rage, followed by Dubois, who was laughingheartily.
"You see," said the regent, after a long silence, and when they werenearing Paris, "I preached with a good grace; it seems it was I whoneeded the sermon."
"Well, you are a happy father, that is all; I compliment you on youryounger daughter, Mademoiselle de Chartres. Unluckily your elderdaughter, the Duchesse de Berry--"
"Oh, do not talk of her; she is my ulcer, particularly when I am in abad temper."
"Well?"
"I have a great mind to make use of it by finishing with her at oneblow."
"She is at the Luxembourg?"
"I believe so."
"Let us go to the Luxembourg, monseigneur."
"You go with me?"
"I shall not leave you to-night."
"Well, drive to the Luxembourg."