The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 31

"Her husband may convince her."

"Her husband? Lecazes, you and I are not children. My good nephew Louis is unacquainted with the art of influencing his wife. He treats her with such profound respect that--well, they fail utterly to understand each other. Whence comes this awkwardness in the second generation in dealing with women? Louis is my reproach, though I must admit that Ferdinand does me honor. Besides, Lecazes, you know well that I have instructed Louis to advise his wife to act as tho no such impostor exists."

Steps sounded in the adjoining apartment.

"Silence!" said the King. "Tis Ferdinand or Louis."

A moment later, the elegant martial figure of the Duke appeared in the door.

"You arrive opportunely, nephew," said Louis XVIII, as the Duke respectfully kissed his hand. "Be seated and give us news. What says Marie Therese?"

"Sire, I do not bring you pleasant news. Madame is strangely exalted.

She has received a letter from that--man, which she carries over her heart."

"Repress your jealousy," replied the King in banter.

"I experience only sadness," replied the Duke with sincerity, "She suffers greatly and I suffer with her. She has not slept for three nights nor eaten for three days. She pa.s.ses hours in prayer--"

"That is your fault!"

"Mine, sire?" exclaimed the Duke.

"Emphatically so, my little Louis. When a woman, such as is your wife, a woman who would die rather than even look at another man,--when she becomes fad, 'tis that her husband is indifferent. Listen; the time has come when I must speak the truth: you have behaved like a simpleton. You have never won her heart. You have treated her with a veneration such as the devote evinces toward the marble statues of saints."

"Sire, you know well that I am more in my element at the head of a regiment than with women. I do not understand them."

"The devil! This cursed generation seems to have been born blase, dest.i.tute even of a sense of beauty. The reason that I love your brother Ferdinand is that he is the living reproduction of our ancestor, Henry of Navarre. The 'ultras' are scandalized at his romance with the English girl. Well, we must beautify our life with illusion or we should become stone. I have kept my heart in its place always, even though I have been a wretched invalid. Not that I have given myself up to material joys. We become divine through that exaltation evoked by the presence of woman. The Countess is the intermediary between soul and faith,--faith in the beautiful. You know that here there is no possibility of descent into matter--An old man in ruined health!"

The Duke frowned, struggling between respect for his uncle and repugnance towards his theories.

"In short, Louis, my aching limbs are already in the grave. I have done ail in my power to protect the inst.i.tutions in my charge. I have subjugated my convictions, my reason, my skepticism, in order to be true to the trust confided to me. With my right hand I have restrained the Revolution; with my left the excesses of an imbecile and sanguinary Reaction. Lecazes has aided me and aids me. But Louis, my heir, if you falter, I shall contend no longer, even tho the monarchy perish. In vain will you have combatted at the pa.s.s of Ivon, at Ravenheim and afterwards, beside the unfortunate Eugene. Bah! The hardest battles are these of state, my son."

The Duke was moved. When the King discarded his habitual raillery, he evinced genuine majesty. Almost subjugated, he knelt at his uncle's feet, saying:

"What can I do for the monarchy, for G.o.d? I am willing to give my life, if necessary."

"Much less than that is required," replied the King, affectionately.

"All that I ask is that you act the part of an affectionate husband, which you are; that you treat your wife tenderly, pa.s.sionately--"

"To what end, Sire?"

"Lecazes will inform you, for I am greatly fatigued. I must be careful of my forces, as tomorrow will be Wednesday and the Countess Cayla will be here to make some hours heaven to me."

Chapter IV

CONJUGAL LOVE

That evening at the customary hour for lighting the lamps in the various apartments of the royal palace, the ladies in waiting to Madame the d.u.c.h.ess were surprised to see her accompanied by her husband on leaving the table. As the august pair entered the d.u.c.h.ess's apartments, the attendants discreetly withdrew and the lady motioned the Duke to a seat; but he, with unaccustomed gallantry, hastened to place himself beside her on the sofa and with the precipitation characteristic of a limited experience in conjugal affectionate demonstration, seized both her hands and effusively began:

"Therese, do you remember what anniversary it is tomorrow? The tenth of June, our marriage day?"

"Indeed?" she replied. "How slowly time pa.s.ses."

"To me it seems as tho we had been married yesterday. 'Twas in the little chapel of Mittau. Listen, Therese: I fear at times that I have not made you happy. Am I mistaken? You treat me so distantly."

"I have been--happy," she stammered. "You know that it is not in my nature to be violently so."

"The time of mourning has pa.s.sed," he said, kissing her slender patrician hands. "Look back no longer. Those who have suffered as much as we have a right to happiness."

Her face flushed as his warmth increased.

"To live and rejoice!" she sighed. "That is not my destiny, nor yours, Louis. We have greater trials in store. I feel their approach. I told you this morning that we have not sufficiently expiated."

"My Therese, you who are so good a Christian should not impugn the justice of G.o.d. Have you not suffered sufficiently to appease Him? Have you not even the right to breathe? Do you experience no emotion now that your husband is at your side? Were the reasons of state which prescribed our marriage not in accord with your sentiment? Would you choose me again if you were free? Can you not love?"

She blushed to hear these extraordinary words. His transformation was wonderful and seemed to be changing her, the austere d.u.c.h.ess, into a girl of twenty.

"Louis," she answered with n.o.ble simplicity, "since the death of my parents, I have loved only you. I fear at times that G.o.d will punish this excessive devotion to a creature."

"Cousin, wife," he ardently exclaimed, "'tis G.o.d's will that we love each other. You know well that tho at times I seem absorbed and cold, I am never even in thought unfaithful. Have you any complaint, any accusation?"

"I have believed," she replied, "that you did not love me. But I have never doubted you. That would have been unendurable."

He clasped her to his breast.

"Since you are so well convinced of my love," he whispered, "you will grant a request, you will permit me to influence that upright conscience, that n.o.ble heart."

She drew herself away instinctively, but he clasped her more closely, and she remained a happy prisoner.

"My wife," he pursued, "you are under the domination of a great sorrow.

This morning you were almost hysterical. I suffered in seeing you so troubled. Now, we must be absolutely frank with one another. I fear for your reason if you continue to torment yourself about an ambitious fool.

Listen to me and listen tranquilly. Your clear intelligence has become temporarily clouded. Your mind will soon recover its lucidity. You are now of the opinion that the man is being victimized, whereas he is nothing more than a keen-witted impostor, bolder and armed with more formidable doc.u.ments than his predecessors."

"Do you really believe that the writer of this letter is an impostor?"

"Well: not precisely an impostor, Therese,--a dupe, rather, believing himself to be the prince. 'Tis a frequent phenomenon. Our reason is subject to such fluctuations that one is capable of confusing even his own individuality with that of another. You doubtless remember the case of the Spanish pie-vender who believed himself King Sebastian; or Pougatchef of Russia who under the name of Demetrius claimed the throne."

"What of the doc.u.ments mentioned in the letter which he maintains would confirm his claim before any French tribunal?"

"Little by little. To begin with, we are not certain that they exist.

Have you seen them? Doubt, then, of their existence, until you have them in your hands for examination. Let us suppose that the doc.u.ments are genuine, does it therefore follow that the possessor is the prince? So great has been the confusion caused by the Revolution, unscrupulous persons have acquired such unrestricted power, our family secrets have been so profanely exploited, that 'twould be no wonder indeed that the papers should be in the hands of the veriest adventurer."

She remained silent, but the voice she loved so well opened an ever widening breach in her faith.

"Reflect," he continued, "how the Revolution has scattered important papers. Great frauds have stood upon stolen or spurious doc.u.ments. But in this instance 'tis evident that the entire plot has for its object the exploitation of your credulity and tender memories. In order to prove whether his claim be true or false, subject your correspondent to a test."