Newspapers / The News & Observer … / Aug. 25, 1895, edition 1 / Page 2
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2 M FOITipBIEML In March, 1610, King Henry went, as usual, to Fontainebleau, where he di verted himself with hunting. It was during this visit that the Court credited him with seeing—l think, on the Friday before the Feast of the Virgin—the Great Huntsman; and even went so far as to specify the part of the forest in which he came upon it and the form—that of a gigantic black horseman, surrounded by hounds—which it assumed. The specter had not been seen since the year 1598: nevertheless, the story spread widely, those who whispered citing in its support not only the remarkable agitation into which the Queen fell publicly on the evening of t hat day but also some strange paiticulars that attended the King’s re turn from the forest; and, being taken up and repeated, and confirmed, as many thought, by the unhappy sequence of his death, the fable fouud a little later almost universal credence, so that it may now be found even in books. As it happened, however, I was that day at Fontainebleau, and hunted with the King; and, favored both by chance and the confidence with which my mas ter never failed to honor me, am able not only to refute this story, but to nar rate the actual facts from which it took its rise. And though there are some, I know, who boast that they had the tale from the King's own mouth, I under take to prove either that they are ro mancers who seek to add an inch to their stature, or dull fellows who placed their own interpretation on the hasty words he vouchsafed such chatterers. As a fact, the KiDg, on that day wish ing to discuss with me the preparations for the Queen’s entry, bade me keep close to him, since he had more inclina tiou for my compauy than the chase. But the crowd that attended him was so large, she day being fine and warm—and comprised, besides, so many ladies, whose badinage and gaiety he could never forego—that I found him insensi bly drawn from me. Far from being displeased, I was glad to see him forget .the moodiness which had of late op pressed him; and beyond keeping within sight of him, gave up, for the time, all thought of affairs, and found in the beauty of the spectacle sufficient compen sation. The bright dresses and waving feathers of the party showed to the greatest advantage as the long cavalcade wound through tne heather and rocks of the valley below the AnremoDts; and whether I looked to the front or rear on the huntsmen, with their great horns, or the hounds straining in the leashes—l was equally charmed with a sight at once joyous and gallant, and one to which the calls of duty had of late made me a stranger. On a sudden a quarry was started, and the company, galloping off pell-mell, with a merry burst of music, were in a moment dispersed, some taking this track, and others that, through the rocks and debris that make that part of the forest difficult. Singling out the King, I kept as near him as possible until the chase led us into the Apremout coverts, where, the trees growing thickly, and the rides cut through them being intri cate, I caught sight of him flying down a r-.de bordered by dark green box trees, againstAtohich his white hunting coat showedßvidly; but now he was alone, and in a direction which each him farther from the chase, and entangled him more deeply in the forest. Supposing that he had made a bad cast and was in error, I dashed the spurs into my horre. and galloped after him; then, finding that he still held his own, and that I did not overuse him, but that, on the contrary, he was riding at the top of his speed, I called to him ‘‘You are in error, sire, I think!” I cried. "The hounds are the other way!” He heard, for he raised his hand, and, without turning his head, made me a sign; bat whether of assent or denial, I could not tell. And he still held on his course. Then, for a moment, I fancied that his horse had got the better of him, and was running away; but no sooner had the thought occurred to me than I saw that he was spurring it, and exciting it to its utmost speed, so that we reached the end of that ride, and rushed through another and still another, always mak ing, I did not fail to note, for the most retired part of the forest. We had proceeded in this way about a mile, and the sound of the hunt had quite died away behind us, and I was beginning to chafe, as well as mar vel, at conduct so singular, when at last I saw that he was slackening hi 3 pace. My horse, which was on the point of failing, began, in turn, to overhaul bis, while I looked out with sharpened curiosity for the object of j pursuit. I could 'see nothing, how ever, and no one; and had just satisfied myself that this was one of the droll freaks in which he would sometimes in dulge, and that in a second or two he would turn and laugh at my discomfit- j nre, when, on a sudden, with a final pull! of the reins, he did turn, and showed! me a face flushed with passion and Chagrin. I was so taken aback that I cried out. ‘ Mon Dieu ! sire,” I said. “What is it? What is the matter ?” “Matter euough ! ’ he cried with an oath. And on that, halting his horse he looked at me as if he would read my heart. “Ventre de Saint Gris,” he said, in a voice that made me tremble. “ If I were sure that there was no mistake, I wonld—l would never see your face again !” I uttered an exclamation. “Have you no’ deceived me?” quoth be. “Oh, sire, lam of th r *se sas Jncions !” I answered, ass cling an in lifference 1 did nit fool. "Is your Majesty does not ” But he cut me short. “Answer me !” he said, harshly, his month working in his beard and bis eyes gleaming with ex c“ p, nent. "Have you n>t deceived m ~ So, sire !” I said. Vet you have told me day by day t xat Madame de Conde remained m Brussels !’’ “Certainly!” “And you still say so ?” “Most certainly !” 1 answered firmly, beginning to think that his passion hail turned his braiu. “1 had dispatches to that effect this morning “Os what date ? ’ «ree days gon*• The courier trav el t aud day ” ey rAny lie true, aud still she may be here to day ?” he said, staring at me. “Impossible} *! re “But, man, 1 have just seen her !” he cried impatiently. “Madame die Uonde f” “Yes. Maiilme de Conde, or lama madman !” HeKiy answered, speaking (Copyright, 1895, by Stanley J. Weytnan.) a little more moderately. “I saw her gallop out of the patch of rocks at the end of the Dormoir—where the trees be gin. She did not heed the line of the hounds, but turned straight down the boxwood ride; and. after that, led as I followed. Did you not see her ?” “No, sire,” I said, inexpressibly alarmed—l could take it for nothing but fantajy—“l saw no one.” “And I saw her as clearly as 1 see you.” he answered. “She wore the yel low ostrich feather she wore last year, and rode her favorite chestnut horse with a white stocking. But I could have, sworn to her by her figure alone; and she waved her hand to me.” “But, sire, out of the many ladies riding to day—” “There is no lady wearing a yellow feather,” he answered passionately. “Aud the horse! And I knew her, man ! Besides, she waved to me ! And for the others- why should they turn from the hunt and take to the woods?” I could not answer this, but 1 looked at him in fear; for, as it was impos ible that the Princess de Conde could be here, I saw no alternative but to think him smitten with madness. The extrava gance of the passion which he had enter tained for her, and the wrath into which the news of her fight with her young husband had thrown him, to say nothing of the depression under which he had since suffered, icndered the idea not so unlikely as it now seems. At any rate, I was driven for a moment to entertain it; and gazed at him in silence, a prey to the most dreadful apprehensions. We stood in a narrow ride, bordered by evergreens, with which that part of the forest is planted; and, but for the songs of the birds, the stillness would have been absolute. On a sudden the King removed his eyes from me, and, walking his horse a pace or two along the ride, uttered a cry of joy. He pointed to the ground. “We are right”, he said. There are her tracks! Come! We will overtake her yet!” I looked, and saw the fresh prints of a horse’s shoes, and felt a great weight roll off my mind, for at least he had seen some one. Ino longer hesitated to fall iu with his humor, but, riding after him, kept at his elbow until he reached the end of the ride. Here a vista open ing right and left, and the ground being hard and free from tracks, we stood at a loss; until the King, whose eyesight was always of the keenest, uttered an exclamation and started from me at a gallop. I followed more slowly and saw him dismount and pick up a glove, which, even at that distance, he had discerned lying in the middle of one of the paths. He cried, with a flushed face, that it was Madame de Conde’s, and added: “It hasher perfume--her perfume which no one else uses!” I confess that this so staggered me that I knew not what to thir.k; but, be tween sorrow at seeing my master so in fatuated and bewilderment at a riddle that grew each moment more perplexing. I sat gaping at Henry like a man without counsel. However, at the moment, he needed none, but, getting to his saddle as quickly as he could, he began again to follow the tracks of the horse’s feet, which here were visible, the path run ning through a beech wood. The branch es were still bare, and the shining trunks stood up like pillars, the ground about them being soft. We followed the prints through this wood for a mile and a half or more, aud then, with a cry, the King darted from me, and, in an instant, was racing through the wood at break neck speed. raira .Naignan appeared and told me that the King had sent tor me. I had a glimpse of a woman flying far ahead of ns; and now hidden from us bv the trunks aud now disclosed; and coil'd even see enough to determine that she wore a yellow feather drooping from her hat, aud was in figure not unlike the Princess. But that wa.s all; for, once started, the inequalities of the ground drew my eyes from the flying form, and, losing it, I couid not again recover it On the contrary, it was all I could do to keep up with the King; and of the speed at which the woman was riding, could best judge by the fact that in less than five minutes he, too, pulled-up with a gesture of de pair, and waited for me to come abreast of him. “You saw her ?” he said, his face grim, and with something of suspicion lurking in it. “Yes, sire,” I answered, “I caw a wo man, aud a woman w ith a yellow feather; but whether it was the Princess ’” “It was!” ho said. “If not, why should she flee from us ?” To that, again, I had not a word to say, aud for a moment we rode in si leuee. Observing, however, that this last turn had brought us far on the way home, I called the King’s attention to fins; but he had sunk into a fit of gloomy ai«traction, aud rode along with nis eyes on the ground. W- proceeded Unis until the slender path we followed brought us into the great road that leads through she forest to the kennels and the new canal. Here I asked him if he would not re turn to the chase, as the day w r as still young. “Mon Dieu. no!” he answered pas sionately. “I have other work to do. Haik ye. M. le Due, do you sfill thiuk that she is in Brussels ?” "1 swear that she was there three days ago, sire!” "And you are not deceiving m> ? If it be so, God forgive you, for I shall not!” “It is no trick of mine, sire,” I an swered firmly. “Trick?” he cried, with a flash of his eyes. “A trick, you say? No, ventre TSie News and Observer, Sunday, Aug. 25, *95. de S.'drif Grk-I there is no man in France dare trLk toe so!” I did not contradict hi;-.;, tli • as wt were now close to the ketrn-1 •. arid l was anxious to allay his excitement, that it might not be detected by the keen eyes that lay in wait for us. and so add to the gossip to which his early return must give rife. I hoped that at that hour he might enter uaperc; ived, byway of the kennels and the little staircase: but in this I w.s disappointed, the beauty of the day having tempted a number of la dies, and others who bad not hunted, to the terrace by the canal, whence, walk ing up aud down, their fans and petti coats flutiering in the sunshine, and their laughter and chatter filling the air, they were able to watch our approach at their leisure. Unfortunately, Henry had no longer the patience and self control needful for such a rencontre. He dismounted with a dark and peevish air, and, heedless o+ the staring, bowing throng, strode up the stops. Two or three, who stood high in favor, put themselves forward t catch a smile or a word but he vouch safed neither. He walked through them with a sour air, and entered the chateau with a precipitation that left all tongues wagging. To add to the misfortune, something —I forget w hat- -oe:ained me a moment, and that cost me dear. Before 1 could cross the terrace, Concini, the Italian, came up, and, saluting me, said that the Queen desired to speak to me “The Queen?” I said,,doubtfully, fore seeing trouble. “She is waiting at the ga;e of the farther court,” he answered politely, hi 3 keen black eyes reverting, with eager curiosity, to the door by which the King had disappeared. I could not refuse, and went to her. “The King has returned early, M. le Due ?” she said. “Yes, madame,” I answered. “lie had a fancy to discuss affairs to day and we lost the hounds.” “Together?” “I had the honor, mad ime.” “You do not seem to have agreed very well ?” she said smiling. “Madame,” I answered bluntly, “his Majesty has no more faithful servant; but we do not al ways agree.” She raised her band, and, with a slight guesture, bade her ladies stand buck, while her face lost its expression of good temper, and grew sharp and dark. “Was ijt about the Conde ?” she said, in a low, grating voice. “No, madame,” I answered; “It was about certain provisions. The King’s ear had be*-n grossly abused, and his Maj esty led to believe ” “Faugh!” she cried, with a wave of contempt, “that is an old story! lam sick of it. Is she still in Brussels ?” “Still, madame.” "Then see that she stops there !” her Majesty retorted, with a meaning look. And with that she dismissed me, and I went into the chateau I proposed to rejoin the King; but, to ray chagrin, I found, when I reached the closet, that he had already sent for Varennes, and was shut up with him. I went back to my rooms, therefore, and after changing my hunting suit and transacting some necessary business, sat down to dinner with Nicholas, the King’s secretary, a man fond of the table, whom I often en tertained. He kept me in talk until the afternoon was well advanced, and we were still at table when Maignan ap peared and told me that the King had sent for me. “I will go,” I said, rising. “He is with the Queen, yonr Excel lency,” he continued. This somewhat surprised me, but I thought no evil; and, finding one of the Queen’s Italian pages at the door waiting to conduct me, I followed him across the the court that lay between my lodgings and her apartments. Two or three of the King’s gentlemen were in the ante room when I arrived, and Varennes, who was standing by one of the fire places toying with a hound, made me a face of dismay; he could not speak, owing to the company. Scill this, in a degree, prepared me for the scene in the chamber, where I found the Queen storming up and down the room, while the King, still in his hunt ing dress, sat on a low chair by the fire, apparently drying his boots. Ma demoiselle Galigai, the Queen’s waiting woman, stood in the background; but more than this I had not time to observe, for, before I had reached the middle of the floor, the Queen turned on me. and began to abuse me with a vehemence which fairly shocked me. “And you !” she cried, “who speak so slow, and look so solemn, and all the time do his dirty work, like the mean est cook he has ennobled! It is well you are here ! Kofi a, you are fouud out —you and your provisions ! Your pro visions, of which you talked in the wood !” “Mon Dieu ?” the King groaned; -‘give me patience !” “He has given me patience these ten years, sire !” she retorted passionately. “Patience to see myself flouted by your favorites, insulted and displaced, and set aside ! But this is too much ! It was enough that you made yourself the laughing stock of France once with this madame ! I will not have it again—no; though twenty of your counsellors frown at me!” “Your Majesty seems displeased,” I said. “But as 1 am quite in the dark “Liar!” she cried, giving way to her fury. “When you were with her this morning ! When you saw her ! When you stooped to—” "Madamel” the King said sternly, “if you forget yourself, be good enough to remember that you are speaking to French gentlemen, not to traders of Florence!” She sneered. “You thick to wound me by that!” she cried, broathing quickly. “But I have my grandfather’s blood in me, sire; and no King of France—” “One King of France wiil presently make your uncle of that blood sing small!” the King answered viciously. "So much for that; and for the rest, ttweetboart, softly, softly!” “Oh!” she cried, “I will go, I will not stay to be outraged by that woman’s presence!” I had now an inkling what was the matter; a: d discerning that the quarrel was a more serious matter than their every day bickerings, and threatened to go to lengths that might end iu disaster, I ignored the insult her Majesty had flung at me, aud entreated her to be calm. “If I understand aright, madame,” I said, “you have some griev ance against his Majesty. Os that I know nothing. But I also understaud that you allege something against me; and it is to speak to that, I presume, that I am summoned. If you will deign to put the matter into words —” “Words !” she cried. “You have words enough ! But get out of Grave-Airs, if you can ! Did you not, tell me this morning that the Princess of Conde was in Brussels f” “Although half an hour before you had seen her, you had talked with her, you had been with her in the for-: ?” “But I had not, madame !” “What ?” she cried, staring at tie. sur prised doubtless that I manifested no confusion. ‘Do you say that you did not see her ?” “I did not.” “Nor the King ?" “The King, Madame, cannot have seen her this morning,” I said, “because he is hire and she is in Brussels ” “You persist in that V' “Certainly !” I said. “Besides, ma dame,” I continued, "I have no doubt that the King has given you his word “His word is good for every one hut his wife !”she answered bitterly. “And for yours, M. de Due, 1 will show you what, it is worth. Mademoiselle, call—” “Nay, madame !” I said, interrupting her with spirit, “it you are going to call your household to contradict me—” “But lam not!” she cried in a voice of triumph tiiar, for the moment, dis concerted me “Mademoiselle, send to M. de Bassompierre’s lodgings, and bid hirn come io me !” The King whistled softly, while I, who knew BasaorapLrre to be devoted to him, and to be, in spite of the levity to which his endless gallantries bore witness, a man of sense and judgment, prepared myself for a serious struggle.- judging that we were in the meshes c/r an intrigue, wherein it was impossible to say whether the Queen figured as ac tor or dupe. The passion she evir esd, as she walked to andj fro with clenched hands, or turned now and again to dart Mademoiselle Paleotti appeared. a fiery g-ance at the Cordovan curtain that hid the door, was so natural to her charade- mat I found myself leaning to the latter supposition. Still, in grave doubt what part Bass imp'erre was to play, I looked for his coming as anx iously »s anyone. And probably the King shtred this feeling; bn he affected indifference, and continued to sit over the fire with an air of mingled scorn and peevishness. At length Bassompierre entered, aud seeing the King, advanced with an open brow that persuaded me, at least, of bis innocence. Attacked on the instaut, however, by the Queen, and taken by surprise. as it were, between two fires though the King kept silence, and merely shrugged hi-> shoulders —his countenance fell. He was at th *t time one of the handsome-it gallants about the Court, 30 years old, and the darling of wompn, but at this his aplomb failed him, and with it my heart sank also. “Answer, sir! answer!”" the Queen cried. “And without subterfuge! Who was it, sir, whom you saw come from the forest this morning?” “Madame?” “In one word!” “If your Majesty will—” “I wiil permit yon to answer,”’ the exclaimed. “I saw his Majesty return,” fal tered—“and M. de Sully.” “Before them ! before them !” “I may have been mistaken.” “Pooh, man !” the Queen cried with biting contempt “You have told; it to half-a dozen. Discretion comes a little late.” “Well, if you will, madame,” he>said, striving to assert himself, but catting a poor figure. “I fancied that I saw Mad ame de Conde —” “Come out of the wood ten aiinutes before the King ?” “It may have been twenty.” he mut tered. But the Queen cared no more for him. She turned, looking superb in her wrath, to the King. “Now,, sir!”she said. “Am I to bea? thi (’’ “Sweet!” the King said, governing his temper in away that surprised me, “hear reason, and you shall have it in a word. How near was Bassompierre to the lady he saw?” “I was not within 00 pacts of her!” the favorite cried eagerly. “But others saw her!” the Queen re joined sharply. “Madame Paleotti, who was with the gentleman, saw her also, and knew her.” “At a distance of sis y paces?’’ the King said drily “I don’t attach much weight to that” And then, rising, with a slight yawn. “Madame,” be con tinued, with an air of command which be knew so well how to assume, ‘ for the present, I am tired! If madame de Conde is here, it will not be difficult to get further evidence of her presence. If she is at Brussells, that f: c’, too, you can ascertain Do the one or die other, as yon please; but, for to day, I beg that you will excuse me.” “And that,” the Queen cried shrilly— “that is to be ” “All, Madame!” the King said sternly. “Moreover, let me have no prating outside this room. Grand- Master, I will trouble you.” And with these words, uttered in a voice and with an air that silenced even the angry woman before us, he signed to me to follow him and went from the room; the first glance of bis eye stilling the crowded ante chamber, as if the shadow of death passed with him. I followed him to his closet; but, until he reached it, had no inkling of what was in his thoughts. Then he turned to me. “Where is she?” he said sharply I sta r ed at him a moment. “Pardon, sire!” I said. “Do you think that it was Madame de Conde ?” 1 “Why not?” ] “She is in Brussels.” “I tell you I saw her this morning!” ;he answered. “Go, learn all you can! ! Find her! find her! If she has returned, j I will-God knows what 1 will do!” he j cried, in a voice shamefully broken “Go; and send Varennes to me. I shall sun alone; let no one wait " I would have remonstrated with h u, but he was in mood to near it; and, ,»ad at heart, I withdrew, feeling the | perplexity, which the situation caused in.', a less heavy burden than the pain j with which I viewed the change that : had of late come over my'master; con I | verting him from the gayest and most I ; debonnaire of men into this morose and ! solitary dreamer. Here, had I felt any j J temptation to moralize on the tyranny j S of passion, was the occasion; but, as the! farther I left the closet behind me the more intense became the crisis, the pres ent soon reasserted its power. Reflect-: I ing that Henry, in this state of uncer-1 ; tainty, was capable of the wildest acts, j and that, not less was to be feared from j | his imprudence than from the Queen's I ; resentment, 1 cudgelled my brains to c.\ plain the recoatre of the morning; but as the courier, whom I questioned, con firmed the report of my agents, and as- j severated most confidently that he had : left Madame in Brussels, I was flung back on the alternative of an accidental resemblance. This, however, which stood for a time as the most probable so-; lutiou, scarcely accounted for the wo man’s peculiar conduct, and quite fell to j the ground when La Trape, making cau tious inquiries, ascertained that no lady hunting that day had worn a yellow feather. Again, therefore, I found my self at a loss; and the dejection of the King, and the Q leen’s ill-temper giving rise to the wildest surmises, and rhieat ening each hnr.r to supply the gossips of th© court with a startling scandal, the issue of which no one could foresee, I went so far as to take into my confidence MM. Epernon and Mont bazoo; but with | no result. Sueh being my state of mind, and j such the suspense I suffered during two days, it may be imagined that M. Bas j sompierre was not more happy. Despair- I ing of the King’s favor unless he could j clear up the matter, and by the event j justify bis indiscretion, hebeeimefor , those two days the wonder, and almost : the terror, of the Court. Ignorant of what he wanted, the courtiers found only insoleuco in his mysterious ques tions, and something prodigious in an activity which carried him in one day to Paris arid back, and on the following to every place in the vicinity where news of the fl -eting beauty might by any pos sibility be gained; so that he far out stripped my agents, who were on the same quest. But though I had no mean opinion of his abilities, I hoped little from these exertions, aud was propor tionately pleased when, on the third day, he came to me with a radiant face aud invited me to attend the Queen that eveuing. “The King will be there,” he said, “and I shall surprise you. But I will not tell you more. Come ! and I prom ise to satisfy you.” And that was all he would say; so that, finding my qnesfi >ns useless, and the man almost frantic with joy. I had to content with it; and at the Queen’s hour that evening presented myself in her gallery, which proved to be un usually full. Making my way towards her in some doubt of my reception, I found my worst fears confirmed She greoted me with a sneering face, and was preparing, I was sure, to put some slight upon me—a ; matter wherein she could always count on the applaaseof her Italian servants when the entrance of the King took her by surprise. He advanced up the gal lery with a listless air, and, after salut ing her, stood by ono of the fireplaces talking to Epernon and La Force. The crowd' was pretty dense by this time, a .d j the hum of taik’tillod the room when,, on a ‘-uddea, a voice, which I recoguized as Bassompieire’s, was lifted above it. “Very well!” he cried gaily, “thon I appeal to her Majesty. She shall decide, Mademoiselle! No, no; lam not satis fied with your claim!” The King looked that way with a frown, but the Queen took the out, burst in good part. “What is it, M. de Bassompierre?” she said “What am Ito decide?” “To-day, in the forest, 1 found a ring, Madame,” be answered, coming forward, j ‘ I told Mademoiselle de La Force of my 1 discovery, and she now claims the ring.” "I once had a ring like it,” cried Mademoiselle, blushing and laughing. “ik sapphire ring?” Bassompierre an swered, holding his hand aloft. “Yes.” "With three stones?’’ “Yes.” “Precisely, Mademoiselle!” he an- Lwerud, bowing. “But the stones in ! this ring are not sapphires, nor are there j them of them.” There was a great laugh at this, and the Queen said, very wittily, that as neither of the claimants could prove a right to the ring it must revert to the judge. “Ia one moment your Majesty shall at least see it,” he answered. “But, first, has anyone lost a ring? Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Lost in the forest, withing the last three days, a ring!” Two or three, falling in with his hu mor, set up absurd claims to it; but no one could describe the ring, and in the eud he handed it to the Queen. As be did so his eyes met mine and challenged my attention. I was prepared, therefore, for the cry of surprise which broke from the Queen. “Why, this is CaterinaV." she cried. | “Where is the child?” Someone pushed forward Maderaoi | selle Paleotti, sister-in-law to Madame Paleotti. the Queen’s first chamber-wo man. She was barely out of her teens, and, ordinarily, was a pretty girl; but i the moment I saw her dead white face, framed in a circle of fluttering fans and pitiless, sparkling eyes, I discovered trag edy in the farce; and that M. de Bassom ; pierre was acting in a drama to which j only he and one other held the key. The ! contrast between the girl’s blanched face ! and the beauty and glitter in the midst : of which she stood struck others, so that, ! before another word was said, 1 caught | the gasp of surprise that p issed through the room; not was 1 the only one who drew nearer. “Why, girl,” the Queen said, “this is i : the ring 1 gave you on ra> birthday ! When did you lose it ? And why have | you made a secret of it ’ ’ Mademoiselle stood speechless, but ; nr dame, her sister-in-law answered for ! her. “Doubtless she was afraid that ; your Majesty would think her careless,” j she answered. “I did not ask you!” the Queen re joined. She spoke harshly and suspiciously, looking from the ring to the trembling ! girl. The silence was such that the I chatter of the pages in the anteroom j could be heard. Still Mademoiselle stood dumb and con founded. “Well, what is the mystery?” the Queen said, looking round with a little wonder. “What is the matter? It is the ring. Why do you not own it ?” “Perhaps Madmoiselle is wondering i where are all the other thing she left with it! ’ Bassompierre |said in a silky tone. “The things she left at Parlot the ver derer’s when she dropped the ring. But she may free her mind; I have them here “What do you mean ?” the Queen said. “What things, monsieur? What has the girl been doing ?” “Only what many have done before her,” Bassompierre answered, bowing to his unfortunate victim, who seemed to be paralyzed by terror: “Masquerading |in other people’s clothes. I propose, madam, that, for punishment, you order her to dress in them, that we may see what her taste is.” “I do not understand ?” the Q icen I said. "Your Majesty will, if Mademoiselle I Paleotti will consent to humor us.” At that the girl uttered a cry, and ; looked round the circle as if for away of . escape; but a Court is a cruel place, in which the ugly or helpless find scant pity. A dozen voices begged the Queen to insist; and, amid laughter and loud I jests, Bi ssompierre hastened to the door, and returned with an armful of women's | gear surmounted by a wig aud a feather I ed hat. “It the Queen will command Made moiselle to retire and put these on,” he said, “I will undertake to show her something that will please her.” “Go !” said the Queen. But the girl at that flung herself on her knees before her, and, clinging to her skirt-*, burst into a flood of tears and prayers; while her sister-in-law stepped forward as if to second her, and cried out, iu great excitement, that her Majesty would not be so cruel as to - “Hoity, toity !” said the Queen, cut : ting her short very grimly. “What is all this ? I tell the girl to put on a j masquerade—which it seems that she ! has been keeping at some eottage—and i you talk as if I were cutting off her I head ! It seems to me that she escapes S very lightly! Go! go! arid see you, ! that you are arrayed in five minutes, or | I will deal with you !” “Perhaps Mademoiselle de La Force will go with her, and see that nothing jis omitted,” Bassompierre said with I malice. The laughter and applause with which | this proposal was received took me by surprise; but later I learned that the two women were rivals. “Yes. yes,” the Queen said, “Go, Mademoiselle, and see that she doc-, not ke* p us waiting.” Knowing what I did, I had by this time a fair idea of the discovery which Bassompierre had made; but the mass of courtiers and ladies round me, who had not this advantage, knew not what to expect—nor, especially, what part M. Bassompierre had in the business—but made most diverting suggestions, the majority favoring the opinion that Mademoiselle Paleotti had repulsed him, and that this was his way of avengiug 1 himself. A few of the ladies even taxed ! him with this, and tried, by random re proaehas, to put him at least on his de fence; bat, merrily refusing to be in veigled, he made to all the same answer— that when Mademoiselle Paleotti re turned they would see. This served only to whet a curiosity already keen, insomuch that the door was watched by as many eyes as if a miracle had been promised; and even MM. Epernon and Vendorae, leaving the King’s side, pressed in to the crowd that they might see the better. I took the opportunity of going to him, and, meeting his eyes as I did so, read in them a look of pain and dis tress, As I advanced he drew back a j pace, and signed to me to stand before i him. 1 had scarcely dona so w en tbs door opened arid Mademoiselle Paleotti, pale, and supported on one side by her rival, appeared at it; but so wondiom-y trans formed by a wig, nat, aud redingote that I scarcely knew her. A4 first, as she stood, looking at the staring crowd, the impression made was simply one of bewilderment, so complete was the dis guise. But Bassompierre did not long suffer her to stand so. Advancing to her side, his hat under his arm, he of fered his hand. “Mademoiselle,” he sad, “will you oblige n>« by walking as far as the end j of the gallery with me?” She complied involuntarily, beirg al most unab'e to stand alone. But the two had not proceeded half way down the gallery before a low murmur began to be heard, that, growing quickly loud er, culminated in an astonished cry of “Madame de Conde! Madame do Con de!'’ M. Bassompierre dropped her hajid with a low bow, and turned to the Queen, “Madame,” he said, “this, I find, is the lady whom I saw on the Terrace when Madame Paleotti was so good as to invite me to walk on the Bois-le-Roi road. For the rest, your Majesty may draw your conclusions.” It was easy to see that the Queen had already drawn them; but, for the mo ment, the unfortuuate girl was saved from her wrath. With a low cry, Mademoiselle Paleotti did that which she would have done a little before, had she been wise, and swooned on the floor. I turned to look at the King, aud found him gone. He had withdrawn un seen in the first confusion of the sur prise; nor did I dare at once to interrupt him, or intrude on the strange mixture of regret and relief, wrath and longing, that probably possessed him in the silence of his closet. It was enough for me that the Italians’ plot had failed, and that the danger of a rupture between the King and Queen, which these miscreants de sired, and I had felt to be so great and imminent, was, for this time, overpast. The Paleottis were punished, being sent home in disgrace, and a penury, which, doubtless, they felt more keenly. All Free. 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The News & Observer (Raleigh, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Aug. 25, 1895, edition 1
2
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