Gaudin de Sainte-Croix had studiously avoided Marie in the Salle de Bal. The reports which had crept about Paris rendered them both cautious, for the present, of their deportment, although they were about to set all restraint at defiance. Whilst she was dancing, he had walked out into the gardens of the palace, that the night air might come cold and refreshing upon his brow, fevered with the events of the last few hours. He had told her as he left where she would find him when the dance concluded; and he now sauntered towards the rendezvous in question.
There formerly existed in the gardens of Versailles, at the right angle of the central body of the palace, where the north wing now stands, a fountain and cavern of marvellous construction, called the Grotto of Thetis. The chapel at present occupies its site, built by Louis in 1699, when, under the influence of Madame de Maintenon, his pursuits changed from those of the most unbridled licentiousness to the extreme of devotion. The statues which it contained, with some fragments of its structure, may be seen at the present day by the visitor to Versailles, in the bosquet of the Bains d’Apollon. Three arcades, closed by iron doors of exquisite workmanship, formed the entrance to this grotto, on one of which a representation of the sun, gilt and highly polished, was so artfully contrived as to catch the rays of the real setting sun, and throw an almost magic light into the interior. All the artists that Louis XIV. had about him were employed in turn to ornament this delicious retreat. Perrault had designed the architecture, and Lebrun the figures, with the exception of the principal group, which was by Girardon, still existing, and represented Apollo attended by his nymphs, in the midst of the sheets of water flowing on all sides over rock-work of mother-of-pearl and coral.[14]
It was in this retreat, lighted by a few illustrated shades, which cast a subdued warm light upon the groups of statuary and plashing water, that Gaudin awaited the Marchioness. Nor was he long in expectation. Little time elapsed before Marie’s step was heard upon the terrace, and she entered the grotto. Gaudin took her hand and led her to a seat. There was still no trace of emotion from the late terrible intelligence: her hand was cool, and her step equal and unfaltering. On the other hand, Sainte-Croix was pale and agitated: he might have felt less than the Marchioness, but his outward demeanour was a clearer index to his feelings.
‘Why do you not speak, Gaudin?’ asked Marie, as her lover had remained some minutes in silence: ‘and you are pale as this cold marble! What has occurred?’
‘It is the ghastly light of the lamp,’ said Gaudin. ‘I am well—quite well—could I be otherwise when all has prospered?’
‘I will tell you what you are thinking of,’ returned the Marchioness, as she riveted her basilisk eyes upon Sainte-Croix: ‘I should be but a poor enchantress if I could not read your inmost thoughts. It is the reaction of your spirit, Gaudin. The cord has been stretched too tightly, and it has broken; you know that a fearful tie has now bound us to each other, and for the first time you feel that I am a clog upon your free actions.’
‘You are mistaken, Marie,’ replied Sainte-Croix with energy, although every word of the Marchioness thrilled through him. ‘I may call Heaven to witness—’
‘Heaven!’ exclaimed his companion, interrupting him, and clutching his arm with nervous force, as a sneer played over her beautiful lips,—‘do not invoke that power again, Gaudin: what have we to do with Heaven now? I put as little faith in your protestations made before it, as you do in its testimony to your truth. We are both without its pale,’ she added coldly.
‘What can I say, then, that you will trust me? Is there any oath I can take that will give my asseverations weight with you, Marie? How will you believe me?’
Gaudin half knelt before her as he spoke, and the large drops of agony stole over his brow. He saw that the Marchioness was trying her power over him, now that they had been so fearfully bound to each other,—that she was playing with his feelings, until they could be broken, and rendered servilely subservient to her will.