"I think, my lord," I replied, willing to do all that I could to soften the sting, "I think that any one might have been deceived by such a base and deep-laid scheme as that by which you were betrayed."
"Nay, nay," he added, "I was a fool, a consummate fool, in everything, and in none less than in thinking that my feelings, and my designs, and my weaknesses, were all hidden within my own bosom, when they seem to have been as plain to yourself and to those two false and cruel wretches as they were to the eyes of Heaven. Do not strive to persuade me that I was not blind and foolish. It is, I tell you, it is a consolation to me to know that I was so. Deep, eternal, everlasting regret will still continue my portion throughout life. Every unkind word, every harsh look, every ungenerous and cruel action, with which I afflicted the heart of her who is now a saint in heaven, will rise up night after night, and day after day, before my memory, and render the sky that overhangs me and the world around dark and gloomy for ever. Each action, each look, each word, each smile of her who is now no more, will be remembered with sad and inconsolable regret; but, nevertheless, that I was myself deceived--that my own wild and mad suspicions were not all--that I was fooled and played upon, and made to act a part my better nature disavows--this, this, I acknowledge, presses part of the poison out of the wound, and softens the sting of remorse. I thank you for your tidings, De Juvigny," he added, laying his hand kindly upon my arm, "I thank you from my very heart. Your voice always brings me comfort, and your arm always renders me service."
He paused for a moment or two again, and then asked me one or two questions concerning Suzette, to which I replied as clearly, but as briefly, as I could, for I thought it better to change the painful subject for some other as fast as possible, and, having administered the medicine, to let time work out its effect in silence. He seemed, however, to take a pleasure himself in dwelling upon the theme, now that it had once been spoken of between us. "Her whole story," he added, alluding to Suzette, "is so minutely consistent with every circumstance which I remember, that I cannot doubt it in the least. To confess one weakness more, I acknowledge that it is no small comfort to my mind to find every circumstance that deceived me, susceptible of a clear and satisfactory explanation; to see every cloud of doubt wafted away from the remembrance of one who now will live for ever enshrined in my heart, not the less loved, not the less adored, that bitter sorrow for her fate, and deep contrition for my faults, embalm her memory, and wash her tomb with tears."
I was delighted to find that what I told produced such an effect; for, to say the truth, I had been like an unskilful physician, and knew not at the time that I administered it, whether the cup which I had presented to Monsieur de Villardin would prove a poison or an antidote. It had evidently become the latter, and I doubted not that every hour which passed would increase its power. I saw, too, that, in some degree, Suzette had shrewdly divined the true state of Monsieur de Villardin's feelings; and that, however much he might be convinced before that he had deeply wronged his wife, his mind would never have rested satisfied till all the mysterious circumstances, which at first aroused his suspicions, had been explained as clearly as they were at present. From the first effect of the tidings I had given, I was led to expect more beneficial results than they afterwards produced. Monsieur de Villardin certainly was calmer from that day forward; the sting of remorse was, as he had said, softened; a part of the load was off his head, but still the deep and bitter melancholy continued. I could see a slight difference--a shade less in the darkness of the gloom that oppressed him, but that was all. He was not so often found sitting alone, immersed in sad and frowning thought. I saw him more frequently with a book in his hand; and events of less importance than heretofore would rouse him into activity and exertion. Yet he was never what can be called cheerful; despondency remained the general character of his mind, and he still seemed to find that relief in moments of danger and excitement, which showed that calm thought was little less painful than heretofore.
Three weeks of almost perfect inactivity, however, succeeded, and, with the exception of an occasional unimportant skirmish with the enemy, we passed our time in idleness in the camp. In the meanwhile, events were in preparation, which were destined to change the aspect of political affairs. A schism had taken place between the Prince de Condé and the leaders of the Fronde: the Duke of Nemours had been killed by his brother-in-law, the Duke of Beaufort, in a duel; the Parisians were gradually becoming heartily sick of turbulence and faction, which they found only served--as turbulence and faction always do--to promote the views of a few intriguing individuals at the sacrifice of commerce, industry, and the public good; and the Court, negotiating with all parties, had by this time obtained such a preponderance, that it seemed likely to be received with open arms in Paris, if the army of Turenne could, by any means, be extricated from its present position, and brought nearer to the capital.
At length an express order arrived for Turenne to endeavour, on the very first favourable opportunity, to decamp and join the Court; and that great general--knowing that his movements were no longer watched by the keen eye of Condé, who had gone back in person to Paris, in the belief that the royal army could not escape--determined to attempt his retreat at once. On the morning of the fourth of October, orders were sent to the officer who commanded in the town of Corbeil, to raise some redoubts on the heights near that place, and bridges having been thrown across the river, we waited till night, and then began our march in silence. We hastened on as fast as possible till we got between the Seine and the forest of Senard, when, both our flanks being covered, we could advance in security. From this point we proceeded more slowly, still looking out, however, for our enemy, who never appeared; and, to tell the truth, we might have marched in any direction we liked, for we had arrived at Corbeil, and were safe in our new position long before the Duke of Loraine even perceived that we had quitted our former camp. A longer and more difficult march, however, was before us, for we had now to join the Court at Mantes, and to cross a great extent of country in presence of an infinitely superior force. Whether the Duke of Loraine was deceived in regard to our movements, or whether he did not choose to act in the absence of the Prince de Condé, I cannot tell; but certain it is that we were suffered to proceed without interruption, and arrived in the neighbourhood of Senlis without having to fire a shot.
The presence of the army and the safety of its troops were not the greatest advantages which the Court derived from this extraordinary retreat. The mismanagement of the Duke of Loraine, and the absence of the Prince de Condé from his army, at a moment when his presence was so much required, ruined entirely the already sinking reputation of the faction opposed to the Court. The Parisians, who had long begun to hate it, now added contempt to detestation; and we heard at Mantes that Condé himself had been actually hooted in the streets of the capital, before he quitted it to rejoin his troops. Tremendous autumnal rains had now succeeded: both provisions and forage had by this time been exhausted in the neighbourhood of the Prince's camp; and, after one of the most inglorious campaigns that he ever made, Condé found himself obliged to retreat upon Laon, passing within a few miles of our forces at Senlis.
All was now joy and satisfaction for the moment; but, as neither officers nor men had received any pay for a considerable time, it became probable that, should the expectations which they entertained of receiving their arrears from the Court be disappointed, they would speedily drop away and leave the King without the means of defence. Under these circumstances, it became absolutely necessary that the Court should venture to return to the capital; but it was not without long discussions and persuasions that Turenne induced the Queen and her ministers to comply. At the time that this was proposed, Monsieur de Villardin and myself had just reached Mantes; and, for a day or two, all was uncertainty and confusion, different reports spreading through the town every hour--now that we were to set off directly--now that the Queen had positively refused to trust herself in Paris--now that we were to wait for messengers from the capital ere any plan could be finally adopted.
At length, however, the order to prepare for the journey was given; and, shortly after, the King, the Queen, the ministers, with a long train of ladies and gentlemen, set out in carriages which had once been splendid, but were so no longer, while guards, officers, attendants, and courtiers on horseback, made up a procession of nearly a mile in length.
In this order we reached St. Germains, when again uncertainty seized upon all our movements; and for three days I do not think any one had the slightest idea whether the next day would see us on our road forward to Paris or back to Mantes. The bolder counsels of Turenne, however, prevailed; and on the fourth day we once more began our march, with the addition of a great number of the inhabitants of St. Germains on foot, who swelled the cortege without increasing its splendour; for, to say the truth, such was the poverty of the Court and all about it, such was the difficulty which every nobleman experienced in procuring remittances from his estates, however near or however distant, and such was the battered and travel-soiled equipage of all the officers and military followers, that it was very difficult to say which was the shabbiest in appearance, the rabble of carriages, of horsemen, or of pedestrians. We wound on, however, towards the capital, contrary to the opinion of many who were obliged to form part of the cavalcade, till we arrived within a few miles of Paris; but, in the midst of the Bois de Boulogne, we were met by a party of cavaliers from the city, who came up at full gallop, and calling to the front horsemen to stop, approached respectfully to the side of the Queen's carriage. They now besought her Majesty and the ministers to think well what they were doing before they brought the young King into the capital; they represented in strong terms the troubled state of the city, and they assured their hearers that the Duke of Orleans, who had been declared by the Parliament Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, was actually arranging a plan for seizing upon the monarch's person, and causing a general revolt in the metropolis.