So great, indeed, was her sense of the obligation thus conferred, that thenceforward Marie regarded the finance minister with more favour than she had hitherto done; and occasionally requested his advice during her misunderstandings with the King. She could not have chosen a safer counsellor, for although Sully does not, in any instance, attempt to disguise his dislike to the Tuscan princess, he was incapable of betraying so sacred a trust; and if, as generally occurs in such cases, his advice was frequently neglected, she never once had cause to question its propriety.

A short time subsequent to the scene we have just described the Queen sent to request the presence of the minister in her closet, where he found her conversing with Concini, and evidently much excited. On his entrance she informed him that she was weary of the infidelities of the monarch; that the jealousy which he constantly kept alive alike undermined her health and destroyed her happiness; and that she had determined to follow the advice of her faithful servant, there present, and to communicate to his Majesty certain advances which had been made to her by some of the Court n.o.bles, who were less insensible to her attractions than the King himself.

This communication startled M. de Sully; and while he was endeavouring to frame a reply by which he might remain uncompromised, Concini with his usual presumption followed up the declaration of the Queen by a.s.serting his own conviction that it was the wisest measure which she could adopt; as it would at once convince her royal consort that she desired to keep nothing secret from him in which he was personally interested.

This interruption afforded time for the Duke to collect his thoughts, and heedless of the interference of the Italian, he remarked in his turn that her Majesty must pardon him if he declined to offer any opinion on so delicate a question, as it was one entirely beyond his province; after which, resolutely changing the tone of the discourse, he continued to converse with the Queen upon indifferent topics until Concini had retired. Then, however, he voluntarily reverted to the subject which she had herself mooted, and implored her to abandon her design; a.s.suring her that he had her interest too sincerely at heart to see her without anxiety about to place herself in a position at once false and dangerous, as such an a.s.surance from her own lips could not fail to excite in the breast of the King the greatest and most legitimate suspicions; for every man of sense must at once feel that no individual, be his rank what it might, would have dared to declare his pa.s.sion to a person of her exalted condition without having previously ascertained that its expression would be agreeable to her, and having been tacitly encouraged to do so; while, on the other hand, so far from discovering any merit in such an avowal, or regarding it as a proof of confidence, his Majesty would immediately decide that the motive by which she had been actuated in making it must have been either the fear of discovery, or a desire to rid herself of persons of whom she had become weary, in order that she might be left at liberty to encourage new suitors; or finally, that she had been urged to this unheard-of measure by individuals who had obtained sufficient influence over her mind to induce her to sacrifice her peace and her honour to their own views.[245]

Happily for herself, Marie de Medicis admitted the validity of these arguments, and abandoned her ill-advised intention; and she was the more readily induced to do this from the a.s.surance which she received from M.

de Sully that the restoration of the promise given to Madame de Verneuil by the King was about to be enforced, and that she would consequently be speedily relieved from the anxiety by which she had been so long tormented. Nor was the pledge an idle one, as immediate measures were adopted to effect this act of justice towards the Queen. The negotiation was renewed by two autograph letters from the King himself, addressed respectively to the Comte d'Entragues and the Marquise de Verneuil, which were long preserved in the library of Joly de Fleury, but are now supposed to be lost. Copies of both had been, however, fortunately taken by the Abbe de l'Ecluse,[246] and as they are highly characteristic of the monarch, and cannot fail to prove interesting to the reader, we shall insert them at length.

To M. d'Entragues the King wrote as follows:

"M. d'Entragues, je vous envoye ce porteur pour me rapporter la promesse que je vous baillay a Malesherbes je vous prys ne faillir de me la renvoyer et si vous voulez me la rapporter vous mesme je vous diray les raisons qui m'y poussent qui sont domestiques et non d'estat par lesquelles vous direz que jay raison et reconnaitrez que vous avez ete trompe, et que jay un naturel plutost trop bon que autrement, ma.s.surant que vous obeyrez a mon commandement, je finirai vous a.s.surant que je suis votre bon mestre."

The letter addressed to Madame de Verneuil bears the same date, and runs thus:

"Mademoiselle, lamour, Ihonneur et les bienfaits que vous avez recus de moi, eussent arrete la plus legere ame du monde si elle n'eut point ete accompagnee d'un mauvais naturel comme le vostre. Je ne vous picqueray davantage bien que je le peusse et dusse fair, vous le savez: je vous prie de me renvoyer la promesse que savez et ne me donnez point la peine de la revoir par autre voye: renvoyez moi aussi la bague que je vous rendis l'autre jour: voila le sujet de cette lettre, de laquelle je veux avoir reponse a minuit."

These specimens of royal eloquence were unavailing; evasive answers were returned by the King's messenger, and entreaties having proved ineffectual, threats were subsequently subst.i.tuted, upon which the arrogant Marquise was ultimately induced to relinquish her claim to ascend the throne of France, on condition that she should, at the moment of delivering up the doc.u.ment, receive in exchange the sum of twenty thousand silver crowns and the promise of a marshal's _baton_ for her father the Comte d'Entragues, who had never been upon a field of battle.

This condition, onerous as it appears, was accepted; and the father of the lady finally, but with evident reluctance, restored the pernicious doc.u.ment to the King in the presence of the Comte de Soissons and the Duc de Montpensier, MM. de Bellievre, de Sillery, de Maisse,[247] de Jeannin, de Gevres,[248] and de Villeroy, by whom it was verified, and who signed a declaration to this effect,[249] although it was afterwards proved[250] that D'Entragues had only delivered into the hands of Henry a well-executed copy of the paper, while he himself retained the original.

This ceremony over, the Marquise was commanded to leave the Court, and for a short time peace was perfectly restored. The King had already become weary of his new conquest, and the hand of Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisiere was bestowed upon a needy and complaisant courtier; but still the absence of the brilliant favourite, despite all her insolence, left a void in the existence of Henry which no legitimate affection sufficed to fill, and it was consequently not long ere he became enamoured of Mademoiselle de Bueil,[251] a young beauty who had recently appeared at Court in the suite of the Princesse de Conde. The extraordinary loveliness of the youthful orphan at once riveted the attention of the King, and her own inexperience made her, in so licentious a Court as that of Henri IV, an easy victim, so easy, indeed, that the libertine monarch did not even affect towards her the same consideration which he had shown to his former favourites, although her extraordinary personal perfections sufficed to render her society at this period indispensable to him.

It was not long ere the exiled favourite was apprised of this new infidelity, yet such was her reliance upon her own power over the pa.s.sions of the King that she affected to treat it with contempt; but although she scorned to admit that she could feel any dread of being supplanted by a rival, after-events tended to prove that she was by no means so indifferent to the circ.u.mstance as she endeavoured to appear, and being as vindictive in her hate as she was unmeasured in her ambition, she could not forgive the double insult which had been offered to her pride. Forgetting the excesses of which she had been guilty, and the forbearance of the King, not only towards her faults, but even towards her vices, she determined on revenge, and unhappily she felt that the means were within her reach.

The Comte d'Auvergne, although he had been a second time pardoned by Henry, who was ever too ready to receive him into favour, and was wont to declare that although he was a _prodigal son_ he could never make up his mind to see the offspring of his King and brother-in-law perish upon a scaffold,[252] was devotedly attached to his sister, and of an intriguing spirit which delighted in every species of cabal and conspiracy; while Francois de Balzac d'Entragues, her father, overlooking the fact that he had himself become the husband of a woman whose reputation was lost before their marriage, talked loudly of the dishonour which the King had brought upon his family, and moreover resented, with great reason, an attempt made by Henry to seduce his younger daughter, Marie de Balzac.

For this lady, who subsequently became the mistress of Ba.s.sompierre, the King conceived so violent a pa.s.sion that, although at that period in his fiftieth year, he did not hesitate to a.s.sume the disguise of a peasant in order to meet her in the forest of Verneuil. The appointment had, however, become known to M. d'Entragues, who, exasperated by this second affront, and indignant at the persevering licentiousness of the monarch, stationed himself with fifteen devoted adherents in different quarters of the wood in order to take his life. Happily for Henry, he was well mounted, and on being attacked, defended himself so resolutely that he escaped almost by a miracle.

The disappointment of M. d'Entragues at this failure was so great that he compelled his daughter to propose another meeting in a solitary spot which he indicated, and where he made every preparation to secure the a.s.sa.s.sination of the imprudent monarch; but although she despatched the letter containing the a.s.signation, Marie de Balzac found means to apprise her royal lover of the reception which awaited him, and he consequently failed to keep the appointment.[253] That the Comte d'Entragues, twice foiled in his meditated vengeance, should lend himself willingly to any conspiracy against the honour and life of his sovereign, is consequently scarcely surprising, when we remember how many n.o.bles had in turn caballed against Henri IV with scarcely a pretext for their disloyalty; and meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, fully conscious of the hatred of Philip of Spain for the French King, had no sooner resolved upon revenge than she at once turned her attention towards that monarch, and by exciting his worst pa.s.sions succeeded in securing his support. She found an able and zealous coadjutor in Don Balthazar de Zuniga, the Spanish Amba.s.sador at the Court of France; while her step-brother, the Comte d'Auvergne, was no less successful with the Duke of Savoy, who, like Philip III, was never more happy than when he discovered and profited by an opportunity of hara.s.sing the French sovereign.

This conspiracy, as absurd as it was criminal, was, moreover, supported by many of the discontented n.o.bles who had never pardoned Henry for the suppression of the League; and, wild as such a project cannot fail to appear in these days, we have the authority of Amelot de la Houssaye[254] for the fact that the Comte d'Auvergne had induced Philip by a secret treaty to promise his a.s.sistance in placing Henri de Bourbon, the son of Henri IV and Madame de Verneuil, on the throne of France, to the detriment of the legitimate offspring of Marie de Medicis.

In the act by which Philip bound himself thus to recognise the pretended claim of the Marquise, he also gave a pledge to furnish her with five hundred thousand livres in money, and to despatch the Spanish troops which at that moment occupied Catalonia to support the disaffected French subjects who might be induced to join the cabal in Guienne and Languedoc.

Report also said that M. d'Auvergne, not satisfied with this attempt to undermine the throne of Henri IV, had formed a design against his life, but the rumour obtained no credit even from his enemies.[255]

Whatever extenuation may be found for Madame de Verneuil in such an attempt as this; whatever indulgence may be conceded to a woman baffled in her ambition, misled by her confidence in a supposit.i.tious claim, and urged on by a blind and uncalculating affection for her children, it is difficult to find any excuse for the persevering ingrat.i.tude of her step-brother. As regards M. d'Entragues, we have already shown that he had more than sufficient cause for seeking revenge upon a monarch who sacrificed every important consideration to the pa.s.sion of the moment; but the Comte d'Auvergne had experienced nothing save indulgence from Henry, and it was consequently in cold blood that he organized a conspiracy, which, had it succeeded, must have plunged the whole nation into civil war. He was, moreover, the more culpable that he had, in order to secure a pardon for his previous partic.i.p.ation in the crime of Biron, a.s.sured the too-credulous monarch, that in the event of his restoration to favour, he would, if permitted to continue his intercourse with Philip of Spain as unrestrictedly as heretofore, profit by the facility thus afforded to him to reveal to his Majesty all the secrets of the Spanish Government.

There can be no doubt that such a proposal must have startled and even disgusted the frank nature of the French King; but it was nevertheless too tempting to be rejected; and he himself avowed to Sully, when the new conspiracy of D'Auvergne became known to him, that it was less by the prayers of the culprit's sister, and by his own consideration for the children whom she had borne to him, than in the hope that he might, through the medium of the Count, be enabled to counteract the measures of his most subtle and dangerous enemy, that he had been induced on that occasion to pardon his disloyalty.[256]

By this unwise and ill-calculated concession the King had afforded an opportunity to the restless and disaffected n.o.ble of pursuing a correspondence with Philip as dangerous as it was convenient. Couriers were permitted to come and go unquestioned; and it was not long ere every measure of the French Cabinet was as intimately known at Madrid as it was in the Privy Council of Henry himself. This evil was, moreover, increased by the unconditional pardon which had enabled M. d'Auvergne, after his strange and degrading offer, to return to the Court; and he profited so eagerly by the opportunity which was thus afforded to him that he had little difficulty in convincing the false and vindictive Philip that the moment was at length come in which he might overthrow the power of the sovereign whom he hated.

M. de Lomenie, however, who, unaware of the promise made by the Count to Henry, became uneasy at the constant communication which the former maintained with the Court of Spain, at length determined to satisfy himself as to its nature, and for this purpose he intercepted some letters, by which he instantly became convinced of the treason meditated against his royal master. Indignant at the discovery which supervened, he suffered his displeasure to reach the ears of the culprit, who forthwith quitted the capital, and hastened to secure himself from arrest in Auvergne, of which province he was the governor, and where he made instant preparations to leave the kingdom should such a step become necessary.

It was consequently in vain that the King, when informed of the circ.u.mstance, despatched the Sieur d'Escures[257] to summon the Count to his presence in order that he might justify himself. D'Auvergne resolutely refused to quit his retreat until he had received a formal promise from the sovereign that he should be absolved from all blame of whatever description, and received by his Majesty with his accustomed favour, alleging as a pretext for making this demand, that he was on bad terms with all the Princes of the Blood, with the Grand Equerry, and even with his sister, Madame de Verneuil, and that he could not make head against such a host of enemies except he were supported by the King.

The expostulations of the royal messenger were fruitless, the Count being more fully alive to the danger of his position than M. d'Escures himself; and to every argument and denegation of the anxious envoy he consequently replied by saying that it was useless to urge him to compromise his safety while he felt certain that his ruin had been decided upon, a fact of which he was convinced from the circ.u.mstance of his having received no letter from any of the intimate friends of the King since he had withdrawn from the Court, while he was sufficiently acquainted with the bad disposition of Madame de Verneuil to be a.s.sured that in the event of her being enabled to effect a reconciliation with the monarch at his expense, she would not scruple to sacrifice his interests to her own.

The emba.s.sy of M. d'Escures thus signally failed, and instead of furthering the purpose for which it was intended, it produced a totally opposite effect, as, warned by this attempt to regain possession of his person, it induced M. d'Auvergne to adopt the most extraordinary precautions. He from that moment not only refused to enter any town or village where he might be surprised, but he also declined to hold any intercourse even with his most familiar friends save on a highway, or in some plain or forest where the means of escape were easy; and when hunting, a sport to which he was pa.s.sionately attached, and which was at that period the only relaxation he could enjoy with safety, he caused videttes to be stationed upon the surrounding heights, who were instructed to apprise him by a concerted signal of the approach of strangers.[258]

All his caution was, however, vain, his capture being an object of too much importance to the King, at the present conjuncture, to be readily relinquished, and accordingly it was at length effected by a stratagem.

By the advice of the Duc de Sully, this enterprise was entrusted to M.

Murat,[259] who a.s.sociated with himself M. de Nerestan[260] and the Vicomte de Pont-Chateau, who, by his instructions, paid several visits to the Count at his chateau of Borderon near Clermont, without, however, inducing him to quit its walls.

These gentlemen, nevertheless, made themselves so agreeable to the self-exiled conspirator, and listened so patiently to his complaints, that their society became at last necessary to him, and so thoroughly did they succeed in gaining his confidence that they finally experienced little difficulty in persuading him to be present at a review of the light cavalry of the Duc de Vendome, of which he was the colonel-general, and which was about to take place in a little plain between Clermont and Nonant. He accordingly proceeded to the spot with only two attendants, and he was no sooner seen approaching than M. de Nerestan and the Vicomte de Pont-Chateau advanced from the ranks, apparently to welcome him, but on reaching his side, the latter seized the bridle of his horse, while his companion arrested him in the name of the King.[261] Resistance was of course impossible, and thus the Comte d'Auvergne, despite all his precautions, found himself a prisoner.

L'Etoile,[262] with a _navete_ well calculated to provoke a smile of pity, calls this a "brave" and subtle stratagem; on its subtlety we may be silent, but we leave alike its courage and its honesty to the judgment of our readers. Sully admits[263] that not only the two captors, but even Murat himself, who had an ancient grudge against D'Auvergne, spared no pains or deceit to insinuate themselves into his confidence, while it is equally certain that it was to his perfect faith in their professions that he owed his capture.

Having secured their prisoner, M. Murat and his coadjutors caused him to deliver up his sword, and to exchange the powerful charger upon which he was mounted for a road-hack that had been prepared for him, upon which he proceeded under a strong guard to Briare, whence he was conducted in a carriage to Montargis, and, finally, conveyed in a boat to Paris.

During this enforced journey his gaiety never deserted him, nor did he appear to entertain the slightest apprehension as to the result of his imprisonment; throughout the whole of the way he jested, drank, and laughed, as though his return to the capital had been voluntary; and when he was finally met at the gates of the city by M. de la Chevalerie, the lieutenant-governor of the Bastille, he was in such exuberant spirits that the astounded official deemed it expedient to remind him that they had not come together to dance a ballet, but for a totally different purpose.[264]

It was only when he found himself conducted to the very chamber which had been occupied by the Marechal de Biron previous to his execution, that a shade of anguish pa.s.sed over the features of the Count. He could not but remember that the traitor-Duke, who had rendered great and good service to his sovereign, had suffered for the same crime of which he was in his turn accused without any such plea for mercy, and it is therefore scarcely surprising that he should have been startled upon finding himself installed as the successor of the condemned marshal.

M. d'Auvergne was not, however, of a temperament long to yield to gloomy ideas, and consequently, while his unhappy wife[265] was lost in tears, and endeavouring by every exertion in her power to save him from a fate which appeared inevitable, he availed himself to the utmost of the leniency of his jailors, and indulged in every luxury and amus.e.m.e.nt which he was enabled to command. Agonised by her apprehensions, the unhappy Countess at length resolved to throw herself at the feet of the King, where, with a humility which contrasted strangely with the unbending arrogance of her sister-in-law, Madame de Verneuil, she besought in the most touching terms that Henry would spare the life of her husband, and once more pardon his crime. Her earnest supplications evidently affected the King, while Marie de Medicis, who was present, wept with the heart-broken wife, and warmly seconded her pet.i.tion, but the monarch, who probably feared the result of such an act of mercy, having raised her from her knees with a gentle kindness which made her tears flow afresh, led her to the side of the Queen, upon whose arm he placed his hand as he said firmly: "Deeply, Madame, do I pity you, and sympathize in your suffering, but were I to grant what you ask, I must necessarily admit my wife to be impure, my son a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and my kingdom the prey of my enemies."

All, therefore, that the Countess could obtain was the royal permission to communicate with her husband, a concession of which she hastened to take advantage; when, in reply to her anxious inquiry as to what he desired of her, she received by her messenger the heartless reply that she might send him a good stock of cheese and mustard, and that she need not trouble herself about anything else.[266]

The intercepted letters of the Comte d'Auvergne having also implicated his stepfather M. d'Entragues, and his sister Madame de Verneuil, both were subsequently arrested; the former by the Provost Defunctis[267] in his castle of Marcoussis, and the latter at her residence in the Faubourg St. Germain; while her children were taken from her, and sent, under a proper escort, to the palace of St. Germain-en-Laye. So important did it, moreover, appear to the French ministers to ascertain the exact extent of the conspiracy, that the Provost was accompanied to Marcoussis by M. de Lomenie, in order that a search might be inst.i.tuted upon the premises; the result of which tended to prove, beyond all possibility of doubt, that the original engagement delivered by the father of the Marquise to the sovereign had, in fact, not been restored, but had been skilfully copied by some able pen; while the importance which was still attached to the real doc.u.ment by the family of Madame de Verneuil may be gathered from the fact that it was discovered by the Secretary of State in a gla.s.s bottle, carefully sealed and enclosed within a second, which was laid upon a heap of cotton and built up in a wall of one of the apartments. Nor was this the only object of importance found in the possession of M. d'Entragues; as, together with the promise of marriage which he had professed to restore to the King, M. de Lomenie likewise discovered, secreted with equal care, sundry letters, the treaty between Philip of Spain and the conspirators, and the cypher which had been employed in their correspondence.[268]

From these doc.u.ments it was ascertained that the King of Spain had stipulated on oath that, on the condition of Madame de Verneuil confiding her son to his guardianship, he should be immediately recognized as Dauphin of France, and heir to the throne of that kingdom; while five fortresses in the territory of Portugal should be placed at his disposal, and subjected to his authority, as places of refuge should such a precaution become necessary. A similar provision was, moreover, made for the Marquise herself; and an income amounting to twenty thousand pounds English was also promised to the quasi-Prince for the support of his household.

Nor was this domestic arrangement by any means the most important feature of the conspiracy, as appointments, both civil and military, involving considerable pecuniary advantages, were also promised to the Comte d'Auvergne and his stepfather; and a simultaneous invasion was arranged by the Duke of Savoy in Provence, the Conde de Fuentes[269] in Burgundy, and Spinola[270] in Champagne.

On the 11th of December M. d'Entragues was conveyed in a close carriage to the prison of the Conciergerie at Paris, accompanied by his son M. de Marcoussis on horseback, but without a single attendant; and he was in confinement for a considerable time before he was allowed either fire or light; while on the same day, Madame de Verneuil was placed under the charge of M. d'Arques, the Lieutenant of Police, who was informed that he must answer with his life for her safe-keeping, and who accordingly garrisoned her residence with a strong body of his guards and archers.

The Comte d'Entragues was no sooner incarcerated, than his wife,[271]

following the example of her daughter-in-law, obtained an audience of Henry, in order to implore the pardon of her husband; but it was remarked that, earnest as she was in his behalf, she never once, during the whole of the interview, made the slightest allusion either to the Comte d'Auvergne or Madame de Verneuil; doubtless feeling that in the one case the well-known respect of the King for the blood of the Valois, and in the other his pa.s.sion for the Marquise, would plead more powerfully in their behalf than the most emphatic entreaties. Like that of the Comtesse d'Auvergne, her attempt, however, proved abortive, save that Henry accorded to her prayers a mitigation of the rigour with which her husband had hitherto been treated.

Meanwhile Madame de Verneuil, far from imitating the humility of her relatives, openly declared that, whatever might be the result to herself, she should never regret the measures which she had adopted to obtain justice for herself and her children; and when on one occasion she was urged to make the concessions by which alone she could hope for pardon, she answered haughtily: "I have no fear of death; on the contrary, I shall welcome it. If the King takes my life, it will at least be allowed that he sacrificed his own wife, for I was Queen before the Italian woman. I ask but three favours from his Majesty: pardon for my father, a rope for my brother, and justice for myself." [272]

Her reason for this expression may be found in the fact that during three examinations which he underwent the Comte d'Auvergne finally acknowledged everything, and threw the whole blame upon the Marquise; feeling convinced that, under every circ.u.mstance, her life was safe; although he had previously (placing the most entire reliance on the good-faith and secrecy of M. de Chevillard,[273] to whom he had, in conjunction with his sister, confided the original treaty with Spain, and never apprehending the discovery of the doc.u.ments deposited at Marcoussis), declared his innocence in the most solemn manner; and he even concluded his address to the commissioners by saying: "Gentlemen, show me one line of writing by which I can be convicted of having entered into any treaty, either with the King of Spain or his amba.s.sador, and I will immediately sign beneath it my own sentence of death, and condemn myself to be quartered alive."

Nor was the confidence placed by M. d'Auvergne in his friend misplaced; for when Chevillard was in his turn taken to the Bastille as his accomplice, he so carefully concealed the treaty in the skirt of his doublet that it escaped the search of the officials; and on seeing himself treated as a prisoner of state, he contrived by degrees to swallow it in his soup, in order that it should not afterwards fall into their hands in the event of his condemnation.[274]

The indignation of the Marquise may consequently be imagined, when, after such a declaration as that which he had originally made, she ascertained that the Count had not only confessed his guilt, but that he had, moreover, revealed the most minute details of the plot; and in order to convince the King that he placed himself entirely at his mercy, had even given up to him the mutual promise made between himself and the Dues de Bouillon and de Biron on the occasion of the previous conspiracy. Her arrogance was also encouraged by the fact that Henry, anxious to find some pretext for pardoning her treachery, sent secretly to inform her that if she would confess her fault and ask his forgiveness, it should be granted in consideration of the past, and from regard for their children; to which message the Marquise vouchsafed no further reply than that those who had committed no crime required no pardon; and in addition to this impertinence, on being informed that some of her friends, anxious to save her in spite of her own obstinacy, had a.s.serted that she had solicited the clemency of the monarch, she bitterly reproached them for their interference, declaring that they were liars and traitors, and that she would die rather than submit to such a humiliation.[275]

During the exile of the Marquise, the King, whose pa.s.sion for Mademoiselle de Bueil had begun to decrease, and who discovered that mere personal beauty offered no equivalent for the wit and fascinations of his old favourite, resolved to provide for her, as he had previously done for Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisiere, by bestowing her upon a husband; and he accordingly effected her marriage with Henri de Harlay, Comte de Chesy, a young n.o.ble whose poverty, as well as his want of Court influence, gave every security for his ready submission to all the exactions of his royal master.[276]

The monarch, whom absence had thus only sufficed to render more devoted than ever to the Marquise, and who had resolved under all circ.u.mstances to pardon her, continued to employ every method in his power to induce her to avow her error, although in searching her papers numerous letters had been discovered which revealed an amount of infidelity on her part that should have awakened his pride, and induced him to abandon her to her fate; and at length, despairing that any minor influence would suffice to alter her resolution, and to lower her pride, he instructed M. de Sully to see her, and if possible to convince her of the injury which she was doing to her own cause by the obstinacy with which she rejected the suggestions of the King.

The minister had no alternative save obedience; and he consequently presented himself at the residence of Madame de Verneuil, whom he found as self-possessed and as self-confident as in the palmiest days of her prosperity. Instead of concessions she made conditions, and complained loudly and arrogantly of the proceedings of the sovereign; by whom she declared that she had been outraged in her honour, and from whom she sought redress rather than indulgence. This tirade was seasoned by professions of piety and repentance which were appreciated at their real value by her listener; who, having suffered her to exhaust herself by her own vehemence, instead of temporizing with her vanity as her friends had previously done, took up the subject in his turn, and told her that she would do well to remember that she was at that moment a prisoner under suspicion of treason, and that she might consider herself very fortunate if she were permitted to expiate her crime by self-exile to any country except Spain; bidding her remark, moreover, that this lenity could not now be exhibited towards her until she had undergone a criminal examination, and demanded the pardon of the King for her disobedience.

M. de Sully next proceeded to upbraid her with her unbecoming conduct towards the Queen; a.s.suring her that every word or act of disrespect of which any were guilty towards the wife of the sovereign was an offence against his own person, and was likely to entail upon the culprit a very severe penalty. He then reproached her for her indecent expressions; and especially for her having more than once declared that had she not been treated with injustice, she should have been in the place occupied by "the fat banker's daughter;" [277] and finally, he reprimanded her very severely for the impertinent and absurd affectation with which she had presumed to place herself upon a level with her royal mistress, and her children upon a par with the Dauphin of France; reminding her, moreover, that the perpetual disunion of their Majesties was to be solely attributed to her malignant and malicious insinuations, and advising her to lose no time in requesting permission to throw herself at the feet of the Queen, to entreat her pardon for the past and her indulgence for the future.

To this harangue, so different from the conciliatory and obsequious discourse of her partisans, Madame de Verneuil listened without any display of impatience, but with an ostentatious weariness which was intended to impress upon the minister the utter inutility of his interference; and when he paused to take breath, she a.s.sured him with a placid smile that she was obliged by his advice, but that she must have time to reflect before she could decide upon such a measure. M. de Sully, however, was not to be deceived by this well-acted composure; he had not carefully studied the character of the Marquise without perceiving how ill she brooked control or remonstrance; and, accordingly, she had no sooner ceased speaking than he resumed the conversation by expatiating upon the enormity of her conduct in affecting the sudden devotion behind which she had seen fit to entrench herself, while she was daily indulging alike her jealousy and her hatred by endeavouring not only to ruin the domestic happiness of the monarch, but even the interests of his kingdom; and when his offended listener remarked, with chilling haughtiness, that he was in no position to impugn her sincerity, he only answered the intended rebuke by persisting that her a.s.sumed piety was a mere grimace, which could not impose upon any man of sense; a fact which he forthwith proved by detailing all her past career, and thus convincing her that no one incident of her licentious life had remained a mystery to him.

"Can you now tell me," he asked, "that these adventures existed only in the jealous imagination of the King, as you have so often a.s.sured his Majesty himself? And will you persist in denying that you have deceived him in the most unblushing manner? Believe me, Madame, if you had indeed become penitent for your past errors, and had, from a sincere return to G.o.d, desired to withdraw from the Court, you would at once have obtained permission to do so with honour to yourself; but you have simply acted a part, and that so unskilfully as to have deceived no one."