Prince Eugene and His Times Part 107

"I hope that her unprincipled relatives did not seek to repeat their sacrilege by any attempt to part her from him to whom she had veritably plighted her faith."

Louvois could not contain himself. "Your majesty," cried he, "the sacrilege was hers and not her father's. She was legally married, and the tie that bound her to her lover was a crime!"

Louis contemplated his own illegitimate children, there present, and Louvois' words roused his ire. "Sir," said he, "you mistake human prejudices for principles. How can you presume to contend for the sanct.i.ty of an infamous falsehood like that of a marriage ceremony fraudulently performed?"

"Thanks, your majesty, thanks for those generous words," exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess, joyfully. "They rehabilitate the memory of my darling, who was as pure and chaste as she was constant and loving. In her case, endurance of the world's contumely was heroism. She felt it to be unjust, but bore it for the sake of her lover, and was happy. Her relatives, however, urged, by their hatred of the poor child, made use of her demented husband to avenge what they pleased to term their outraged honor. They armed him with dagger and poison, and her own brother brought him to the town where she was living, and led him to her villa."

"What an unnatural and wicked brother," exclaimed the young Duke of Maine, who had edged himself in to listen.

The d.u.c.h.ess gave him a grateful smile, and continued her story:

"The murderer made an attempt to poison his rival. He was recognized under his disguise by his wife, who darted forward to save her lover's life. As she did so, the a.s.sa.s.sin drew from his bosom a poniard and stabbed her to the heart,"

"Horrible!" was the exclamation of all the bystanders.

"Sire." resumed the d.u.c.h.ess, "the woman so foully murdered by the tool of her father and her brother,--she, whom I loved so dearly, and whom your majesty's self honored by your attention, was Laura Bonaletta--the daughter of Monsieur Louvois, and the sister of his depraved son--Barbesieur."

"The Marchioness Strozzi!" cried the king, turning his indignant eyes upon Louvois, who was vainly trying to effect a retreat.

"Sir," said Louis, "I hope you will be able to disprove this dreadful charge, and convince her royal highness that she has been misinformed."

"Sire, I am not aware that any guilt attaches to my actions as a father. I married my daughter to the man whom I chose should be her husband, and I hastened the marriage that I might save her from the artful snare which Prince Eugene was laying for her large fortune."

"Sire," cried the d.u.c.h.ess, "the whole world knows Prince Eugene to be above mercenary considerations, and it also knows that had Monsieur Louvois not driven him away from France, he would not now be the most distinguished officer in the army of a foreign prince."

"Very true," returned the king.--"Louvois never showed himself to have less penetration than when he undervalued the genius of Prince Eugene. But this blunder we can pardon, so he but clear himself of partic.i.p.ation in the a.s.sa.s.sination of his daughter."

"That I can easily do, your majesty," replied Louvois. "I knew nothing whatever of the attempt on Prince Eugene's life."

"Then how comes it that this intercepted letter from your own hand speaks so knowingly of it to your son?--Sire," continued the d.u.c.h.ess, "this letter was sent to me by Victor Amadeus. The courier to whom it had been confided was arrested by a vidette of the duke's, and the letter forwarded to his highness. From my step- daughter, the d.u.c.h.ess of Savoy, I hold my information; and it was imparted to me at her husband's desire, that I might transmit it to your majesty, and Louis XIV. might hear how Louvois vanquishes the heroes that are opposed to him in war. Sire, not only your friends, but your enemies, know that you hold such warfare in abhorrence."

"I do, indeed," cried Louis, "and I thank not only Victor Amadeus, madame, but yourself, who have not shrunk from the ungrateful duty of accusing a man whom many another would have feared, because he was high in my estimation. I thank you that you have given me occasion to vindicate my honor from the foul blot which this man would have cast upon it. I say nothing of his cruelty to his unhappy daughter, for that I leave to his Maker. But, as regards the attempt on the life of Prince Eugene, it shall be investigated;--and woe to him, should he be inculpated by the examination of these papers!-- Go, sir, and until your fame is cleared, consider yourself a prisoner in your own house."

Pale and trembling, Louvois retreated from the royal presence.

Around the door of the cabinet were groups of high-born dames and t.i.tled lords, who all drew back to let him pa.s.s. No one wished to breathe the atmosphere that was tainted by the presence of a suspected murderer; and the rumor of his disgrace spread so rapidly through the palace, that it reached the room where the court was a.s.sembled, and every man there turned his back upon the favorite who, an hour before, had been greeted with courtesy and respect by the proudest n.o.bles in the land.

The king's eyes followed the bowed figure of his fallen minister until it pa.s.sed out of sight; then, as if nothing had happened, he smilingly addressed the d.u.c.h.ess of Orleans:

"Madame, will you take the bride by the hand? I, myself, will escort the bridegroom."

Elizabeth-Charlotte, who, in her sorrow for the tragical death of Laura, had forgotten the occasion of her coming, gave a sudden start, and her heart died within her. She turned her sharp eyes with a searching look upon the Duke de Chartres, hoping for some significant glance that would rea.s.sure her as to his intentions. But the young duke's eyes were turned another way: he was following the master of ceremonies, and making a profound inclination before the king.

Madame dared no longer hesitate: she gave her hand to Mademoiselle de Blois, and led her forward to the table where lay the dreaded doc.u.ment.

At a signal from the king, the keeper of the seal advanced, and, taking up the parchment, read the marriage contract of his royal highness the Duke de Chartres with Mademoiselle de Blois. The duke's marriage with the king's daughter ent.i.tled him to the grandes entries du cabinet, and the entrees de derriere,--privileges highly prized by the members of the royal family. The contract also recognized Mademoiselle de Blois as a daughter of France, and gave her a dowry of two millions of livres, several large estates, and a complete parure of costly diamonds.

With the exception of madame, everybody was enraptured with the royal munificence. Again she tried to meet her son's eyes, but they were steadfastly fixed upon the hand of the king who had signed the contract, and was in the act of placing it before his daughter.

Mademoiselle de Blois scribbled her name under that of her father, and pa.s.sed the pen over to the bridegroom. The decisive moment was at hand. With fast-throbbing heart, the d.u.c.h.ess bent forward to hear her son's rejection of this insulting mesalliance, when lo! that son, with a placid smile, accepted the pen, and signed!

A cry had well-nigh burst from his mother's lips, as, with every show of respect, he presented her the pen. Speechless with anger, she advanced her hand, but it was not to take the instrument of her humiliation: it was to administer to her rebellious son a box on the ear which resounded like a pistol-shot through the apartment, and created considerable astonishment among the aristocratic guests therein a.s.sembled. [Footnote: Historical.--See "Letters of the d.u.c.h.ess of Orleans to the Princess of Wales."]

The young duke uttered a howl, and, rubbing his cheek, jumped behind the hooped dress of his bride-elect.

"Madame!" exclaimed the king, "what means this violence?"

"Your majesty, I was killing a fly that had lit upon Philip's cheek."

"It must be a robust fly, if it is not crushed to atoms," replied the king, much amused.

The court, unable to withstand their merriment, burst into out-- simultaneous shout of laughter, under cover--of which Elizabeth- Charlotte, with tearful eyes, signed the fatal doc.u.ment which mingled the n.o.ble blood of Orleans with the muddy stream of illegitimacy.

CHAPTER IX.

VENGEANCE.

So great had been the haste of the courtiers to spread the news of Louvois' disgrace, that the very usher who opened the door that led into the vestibule, performed his office with a superciliousness which proved him to have heard it as well as his betters.

Louvois felt as if his grave were yawning before him. He had forgotten that his carriage could not possibly have returned so soon; and now he stood alone on the perron of the palace, staring up and down the street in the vain hope of concealing himself in a fiacre from the gaze of the curious. No sentinel saluted him, no soldier presented arms, as, ashamed of his rich dress and sparkling orders, which rendered him conspicuous, he walked on and on, an object of curiosity to every pa.s.ser-by. At length, on the Pont Neuf, he met a dilapidated old hackney-coach, amid whose threadbare cus.h.i.+ons he was glad to retreat from observation.

On his arrival home, n.o.body came out to a.s.sist him to alight; for how could the lackeys who were idling around the porte-cochere surmise that the occupant of that shabby vehicle was their haughty master?

He entered the hotel, and, without vouchsafing a word to the astounded valets, ascended the staircase that led to his own private apartments. But they came after him to ask whether he was indisposed, and whether they could be of service.

Their offers were rejected with scorn; but Louvois thought it politic to inform his own valet that, having been attacked with sudden indisposition, he had been forced to leave the court-ball, and return in a fiacre. While he was being divested of his rich dress and long curled wig, the valet went on to announce that Count Barbesieur had arrived from Italy, and was desirous of seeing his father as soon as possible. A lady also had called to see his excellency; and, having been told that he was at the great court- festival, she had replied that he would be apt to return home early, and she would await his arrival, for she had important business to transact with him.

"Where is the lady?" asked Louvois.

"She is in her carriage at the side door of the hotel. Shall I ask her in the drawing-room, your excellency?"

"Later," said Louvois. "I must first speak with my son."

"I am here," cried Barbesieur, who had silently entered the room.

"Leave us," said Louvois to the valet, "and when Count Barbesieur has retired, admit the lady. I--"

He paused, and caught at the arm-chair for support. He had become suddenly dizzy, his face grew scarlet, his eyes blood-shot, and his breathing oppressed.

The valet hastened to his a.s.sistance, and offered him a gla.s.s of water. He emptied it at a draught, but his hands shook so, that he could scarcely hold the goblet, Barbesieur had thrown himself full length on a sofa, whence he contemplated his father with the most consummate indifference.

"You ought to be bled," said he, carelessly.

"I will do so. It may relieve me," replied he, panting. "Go," added he to the valet, "go for f.a.got."

The valet hurried off, and the father and son were left alone together. The former lay gasping with his head flung back on a cus.h.i.+on; the latter watched him closely, but without the merest appearance of sympathy or interest.