The Vicomte de Bragelonne | Page 8

assured they should not be disturbed. So, guards,
scullions, _maitres d'hotel_, and pages having passed, they resumed
their places at the table; and the sun, which, through the window-frame,
had for an instant fallen upon those two charming countenances, now
only shed its light upon the gilliflowers, primroses, and rose-tree.
"Bah!" said Mademoiselle de Montalais, taking her place again;
"Madame will breakfast very well without me!"
"Oh! Montalais, you will be punished!" replied the other girl, sitting
down quietly in hers.
"Punished, indeed! - that is to say, deprived of a ride! That is just the
way in which I wish to be punished. To go out in the grand coach,
perched upon a doorstep; to turn to the left, twist round to the right,
over roads full of ruts, where we cannot exceed a league in two hours;

and then to come back straight towards the wing of the castle in which
is the window of Mary de Medici, so that Madame never fails to say:
'Could one believe it possible that Mary de Medici should have escaped
from that window - forty-seven feet high? The mother of two princes
and three princesses!' If you call that relaxation, Louise, all I ask is to
be punished every day; particularly when my punishment is to remain
with you and write such interesting letters as we write!"
"Montalais! Montalais! there are duties to be performed."
"You talk of them very much at your ease, dear child! - you, who are
left quite free amidst this tedious court. You are the only person that
reaps the advantages of them without incurring the trouble, - you, who
are really more one of Madame's maids of honor than I am, because
Madame makes her affection for your father-in-law glance off upon
you; so that you enter this dull house as the birds fly into yonder court,
inhaling the air, pecking the flowers, picking up the grain, without
having the least service to perform, or the least annoyance to undergo.
And you talk to me of duties to be performed! In sooth, my pretty idler,
what are your own proper duties, unless to write to the handsome Raoul?
And even that you don't do; so that it looks to me as if you likewise
were rather negligent of your duties!"
Louise assumed a serious air, leant her chin upon her hand, and, in a
tone full of candid remonstrance, "And do you reproach me with my
good fortune?" said she. "Can you have the heart to do it? You have a
future; you will belong to the court; the king, if he should marry, will
require Monsieur to be near his person; you will see splendid fetes, you
will see the king, who they say is so handsome, so agreeable!"
"Ay, and still more, I shall see Raoul, who attends upon M. le Prince,"
added Montalais, maliciously.
"Poor Raoul!" sighed Louise.
"Now is the time to write to him, my pretty dear! Come, begin again,
with that famous 'Monsieur Raoul' which figures at the top of the poor
torn sheet."
She then held the pen toward her, and with a charming smile
encouraged her hand, which quickly traced the words she named.
"What next?" asked the younger of the two girls.
"Why, now write what you think, Louise," replied Montalais.
"Are you quite sure I think of anything?"

"You think of somebody, and that amounts to the same thing, or rather
even more."
"Do you think so, Montalais?"
"Louise, Louise, your blue eyes are as deep as the sea I saw at
Boulogne last year! No, no, I mistake - the sea is perfidious: your eyes
are as deep as the azure yonder - look! - over our heads!"
"Well, since you can read so well in my eyes, tell me what I am
thinking about, Montalais."
"In the first place, you don't think, _Monsieur Raoul_; you think, My
dear Raoul."
"Oh! - "
"Never blush for such a trifle as that! 'My dear Raoul,' we will say -
'You implore me to write you at Paris, where you are detained by your
attendance on M. le Prince. As you must be very dull there, to seek for
amusement in the remembrance of a provinciale - '"
Louise rose up suddenly. "No, Montalais," said she, with a smile; "I
don't think a word of that. Look, this is what I think;" and she seized
the pen boldly, and traced, with a firm hand, the following words:
"I should have been very unhappy if your entreaties to obtain a
remembrance of me had been less warm. Everything here reminds me
of our early days, which so quickly passed away, which so delightfully
flew by, that no others will ever replace the charm of them in my
heart."
Montalais,