"The next day he hoped to escape his musician; but this hope was fallacious; and it was the same the day after, and all following days, so that the consul, seeing that it was impossible to keep his incognito, left for Sicily, where, out of anger, he beat the Carthaginians again; but this time so unmercifully, that every one thought that must be the end of all Punic wars, past, present, or to come. Rome was so convulsed with joy that it gave public rejoicings like those on the anniversary of the foundation of the city, and proposed to give the conqueror a triumph more splendid even than the last. As to the senate, it assembled before the arrival of Duilius, to determine what reward should be conferred upon him. They were all in favor of a public statue, when suddenly they heard shouts of triumph and the sound of a flute. It was the consul who had freed himself from the triumph, thanks to his haste, but who could not free himself from public gratitude, thanks to his fluteplayer. Suspecting that they were preparing something new, he came to take part in the deliberations. He found the senate ready to vote, with their balls in their hands.
"He advanced to the tribune. 'Conscript fathers,' said he, 'is it not your intention to give me a reward which will be agreeable to me?' 'Our intention,' replied the president, 'is to make you the happiest man on earth.' 'Good,' said Duilius; 'will you allow me to ask from you that which I desire most?' 'Speak,' cried all the senators at once. 'And you will confer it on me?' asked he, with all the timidity of doubt. 'By Jupiter we will!' answered the president in the name of the assembly. 'Then, Conscript fathers,' said Duilius, 'if you think that I have deserved well of the country, take away from me, in recompense for this second victory, this cursed fluteplayer, whom you gave me for the first.' The senate thought the request strange, but they had pledged their word, and at that period people kept their promises. The fluteplayer was allowed to retire on halfpay, and the Consul Duilius, having got rid of his musician, recovered his incognito, and, without noise, found the door of that little house in the Suburranian Road, which one victory had closed against him, and which another had reopened."
"Well," asked the palatine, "what has this story to do with the fear I have of your being assassinated?"
"What has it to do with it, my mother?" said the prince, laughing. "It is, that if, instead of the one musician which the Consul Duilius had, and which caused him such disappointment, I had a regiment of guards, you may fancy what would happen to me."
"Ah! Philippe, Philippe," answered the princess, laughing and sighing at the same time, "will you always treat serious matters so lightly!"
"No, mother," said the regent; "and the proof is, that as I presume you did not come here solely to read me a lecture on my nocturnal courses, but to speak on business, I am ready to listen to you, and to reply seriously."
"Yes, you are right," said the princess; "I did come to speak to you of other things. I came to speak of Mademoiselle de Chartres."
"Yes, of your favorite, mother; for it is useless to deny it, Louise is your favorite. Can it be because she does not love her uncles much, whom you do not love at all?"
"No, it is not that, but I confess it is pleasing to me to see that she has no better opinion of bastards than I have; but it is because, except as to beauty, which she has and I never had, she is exactly what I was at her age, having true boy's tastes, loving dogs, horses, and cavalcades, managing powder like an artilleryman, and making squibs like a workman; well, guess what has happened to her.""She wants a commission in the guards?"
"No, no; she wants to be a nun."
"A nun! Louise! Impossible; it must be some joke of her sisters!"
"Not at all," replied the palatine; "there is no joke about it, I swear to you."
"How has she got this passion for the cloister?" asked the regent, beginning to believe in the truth of what his mother told him, accustomed as he was to live at a time when the most extravagant things were always the most probable.
"Where did she get it?" replied madame; "why, from the devil, I suppose; I do not know where else she could have got it. The day before yesterday she passed with her sister, riding, shooting, laughing; in fact, I had never seen her so gay; but this evening Madame d'Orleans sent for me. I found Mademoiselle de Chartres at her mother's knees, in tears, and begging permission to retire to the Abbey des Chelles. Her mother turned to me, and said, 'What do you think of this, madame?' 'I think,' I replied, 'that we can perform our devotions equally well in any place and that all depends on our own preparations;' but hearing my words, Mademoiselle de Chartres redoubled her prayers, and with so much earnestness that I said to her mother, 'It is for you to decide.' 'Oh,' replied the duchess, 'we cannot prevent this poor child from performing her devotions.' 'Let her go then,' I replied, 'and may God grant that she goes in that intention.' 'I swear to you, madame,' said Mademoiselle de Chartres, 'that I go for God alone, and that I am influenced by no worldly idea.' Then she embraced us, and yesterday morning at seven o'clock she set out."
"I know all that, since I was to have taken her there," replied the regent. "Has nothing happened since then?"
"Yes, yesterday evening she sent back the carriage, giving the coachman a letter addressed to you, to her mother, and to me, in which she says that finding in the cloister that tranquillity and peace which she cannot hope for in the world, she does not wish to leave it."
"And what does her mother say to this resolution?"
"Her mother!" replied madame. "To tell you the truth, I believe her mother is very glad, for she likes convents, and thinks it a great piece of goodluck to have a daughter a nun; but I say there is no happiness where there is no vocation."
The regent read and reread the letter of Mademoiselle de Chartres, trying to discover, by the expression of her desire to remain at Chelles, the secret causes which had given rise to it. Then, after an instant of meditation, as deep as if the fate of empires depended on it:
"There is some love pique here," said he; "do you know if Louise loves any one?"
Madame told the regent the adventure of the opera, and the exclamation of the princess, in her admiration for the handsome tenor.
"Diable!" cried the regent, "and what did you and the Duchesse d'Orleans do in your maternal council?"
"We showed Cauchereau the door, and forbade the opera to Mademoiselle de Chartres; we could not do less."
"Well!" replied the regent, "there is no need to seek further. We must cure her at once of this fancy."
"And how will you do that, my son?"
"I will go today to the Abbey des Chelles, and interrogate Louise. If the thing is but a caprice, I will give it time to pass off. I will appear to adopt her views, and, in a year hence, when she is to take the veil, she herself will come and beg us to free her from the difficulty she has got herself into. If, on the contrary, the thing is serious, then it will be different."
"Mon Dieu!" said madame, rising, "remember that poor Cauchereau has, perhaps, nothing to do with it, and that he is even ignorant of the passion he has inspired."
"Do not be afraid," replied the prince, laughing at the tragic interpretation which the princess, with her German ideas, had given to his words. "I shall not renew the lamentable history of the lovers of the Paraclete; Cauchereau's voice shall neither lose nor gain a single note in this adventure, and we do not treat a princess of the blood in the same manner as a little bourgeoise."
"But, on the other hand," said madame, almost as much afraid of the regent's real indulgence as of his apparent severity, "no weakness either."
"My mother," said the regent, "if she must deceive some one, I would rather that it was her husband than God." And kissing his mother's hand respectfully, he led her to the door, quite scandalized at those easy manners, among which she died, without ever having accustomed herself to them. Then the Duc d'Orleans returned to his drawing, humming an air from his opera of Porthée.
In crossing the antechamber, madame saw a little man in great ridingboots coming toward her, his head sunk in the immense collar of a coat lined with fur. When he reached her he poked out of his surtout a little face with a pointed nose, and bearing a resemblance at once to a polecat and a fox.
"Oh!" said the palatine, "is it you, abbe?"
"Myself, your highness. I have just saved Francenothing but that." And bowing to madame, without waiting for her to dismiss him, as etiquette required, he turned on his heel, and entered the regent's study without being announced.
In crossing the antechamber, madame saw a little man in great ridingboots coming toward her, his head sunk in the immense collar of a coat lined with fur. When he reached her he poked out of his surtout a little face with a pointed nose, and bearing a resemblance at once to a polecat and a fox.
"Oh!" said the palatine, "is it you, abbe?"
"Myself, your highness. I have just saved Francenothing but that." And bowing to madame, without waiting for her to dismiss him, as etiquette required, he turned on his heel, and entered the regent's study without being announced.
Chapter XIX
The Abbe Dubois
All the world knows the commencement of the Abbe Dubois. We will not enlarge on the history of his youth, which may be found in the memoirs of the time, and particularly in those of the implacable SaintSimon. Dubois has not been calumniatedit was impossible; but all the evil has been told of him, and not quite all the good.
There was in his antecedents, and in those of Alberoni, his rival, a great resemblance, but the genius was on the side of Dubois; and in the long struggle with Spain, which the nature of our subject does not allow us to do more than indicate, all the advantage was with the son of the apothecary over the son of the gardener. Dubois preceded Figaro, to whom he probably served as type; but, more fortunate than he, he passed from the office to the drawingroom, and from the drawingroom to the court. All these successive advantages were the rewards of various services, private or public.