Louise de la Valliere by Alexandre Dumas (dark books to read .TXT) 📖

La Valliere very soon recovered from her surprise, for, owing to his respectful bearing, the king inspired her with more confidence by his presence than his sudden appearance had deprived her of. But, as he noticed that which made La Valliere most uneasy was the means by which he had effected an entrance into her room, he explained to her the system of the staircase concealed by the screen, and strongly disavowed the notion of his being a supernatural appearance.

“Oh, sire!” said La Valliere, shaking her fair head with a most engaging smile, “present or absent, you do not appear to my mind more at one time than at another.”

“Which means, Louise—”

“Oh, what you know so well, sire; that there is not one moment in which the poor girl whose secret you surprised at Fontainebleau, and whom you came to snatch from the foot of the cross itself, does not think of you.”

“Louise, you overwhelm me with joy and happiness.”

La Valliere smiled mournfully, and continued: “But, sire, have you reflected that your ingenious invention could not be of the slightest service to us?”

“Why so? Tell me,—I am waiting most anxiously.”

“Because this room may be subject to being searched at any moment of the day. Madame herself may, at any time, come here accidentally; my companions run in at any moment they please. To fasten the door on the inside, is to denounce myself as plainly as if I had written above, ‘No admittance,—the king is within!’ Even now, sire, at this very moment, there is nothing to prevent the door opening, and your majesty being seen here.”

“In that case,” said the king, laughingly, “I should indeed be taken for a phantom, for no one can tell in what way I came here. Besides, it is only spirits that can pass through brick walls, or floors and ceilings.”

“Oh, sire, reflect for a moment how terrible the scandal would be! Nothing equal to it could ever have been previously said about the maids of honor, poor creatures! whom evil report, however, hardly ever spares.”

“And your conclusion from all this, my dear Louise,—come, explain yourself.”

“Alas! it is a hard thing to say—but your majesty must suppress staircase plots, surprises and all; for the evil consequences which would result from your being found here would be far greater than our happiness in seeing each other.”

“Well, Louise,” replied the king, tenderly, “instead of removing this staircase by which I have ascended, there is a far more simple means, of which you have not thought.”

“A means—another means!”

“Yes, another. Oh, you do not love me as I love you, Louise, since my invention is quicker than yours.”

She looked at the king, who held out his hand to her, which she took and gently pressed between her own.

“You were saying,” continued the king, “that I shall be detected coming here, where any one who pleases can enter.”

“Stay, sire; at this very moment, even while you are speaking about it, I tremble with dread of your being discovered.”

“But you would not be found out, Louise, if you were to descend the staircase which leads to the room underneath.”

“Oh, sire! what do you say?” cried Louise, in alarm.

“You do not quite understand me, Louise, since you get offended at my very first word; first of all, do you know to whom the apartments underneath belong?”

“To M. de Guiche, sire, I believe.”

“Not at all; they are M. de Saint-Aignan’s.”

“Are you sure?” cried La Valliere; and this exclamation which escaped from the young girl’s joyous heart made the king’s heart throb with delight.

“Yes, to Saint-Aignan, our friend,” he said.

“But, sire,” returned La Valliere, “I cannot visit M. de Saint-Aignan’s rooms any more than I could M. de Guiche’s. It is impossible—impossible.”

“And yet, Louise, I should have thought that, under the safe-conduct of the king, you would venture anything.”

“Under the safe-conduct of the king,” she said, with a look full of tenderness.

“You have faith in my word, I hope, Louise?”

“Yes, sire, when you are not present; but when you are present,—when you speak to me,—when I look upon you, I have faith in nothing.”

“What can possibly be done to reassure you?”

“It is scarcely respectful, I know, to doubt the king, but—for me—you are not the king.”

“Thank Heaven!—I, at least, hope so most devoutly; you see how anxiously I am trying to find or invent a means of removing all difficulty. Stay; would the presence of a third person reassure you?”

“The presence of M. de Saint-Aignan would, certainly.”

“Really, Louise, you wound me by your suspicions.”

Louise did not answer, she merely looked steadfastly at him with that clear, piercing gaze which penetrates the very heart, and said softly to herself, “Alas! alas! it is not you of whom I am afraid,—it is not you upon whom my doubts would fall.”

“Well,” said the king, sighing, “I agree; and M. de Saint-Aignan, who enjoys the inestimable privilege of reassuring you, shall always be present at our interviews, I promise you.”

“You promise that, sire?”

“Upon my honor as a gentleman; and you, on your side—”

“Oh, wait, sire, that is not all yet; for such conversations ought, at least, to have a reasonable motive of some kind