It is probable that the loss of Mlle. de Montmorency’s dowry and all the advantages which his alliance with so illustrious a family would have brought him distressed Bassompierre a good deal more than the loss of the young lady herself.
“It is true,” says he, “that there was not at that time under Heaven a being more beautiful than Mlle. de Montmorency, nor one more graceful or perfect in every respect. She had made a deep impression upon my heart; but, as it was a love which was to be regulated by marriage, I did not feel my disappointment so much as I should otherwise have done.”
Nor had he far to look for consolation, and “in order not to remain idle and to console myself for my loss, I sought diversion in making my peace with three ladies, with whom I had totally broken in expectation of marrying—one of them being Antragues.”
If, however, like a true courtier, he had been ready to bow to the caprice of his sovereign, and to make the best of the situation, his vanity had been wounded far too deeply for him to allow himself “to be led in triumph”—as he expresses it—by Condé, when that prince’s formal betrothal to Mlle. de Montmorency took place:
“I was that morning in the King’s apartments, when Monsieur le Prince, after speaking to several others, approached me and said: ‘M. de Bassompierre, I beg you to come this afternoon to my hôtel and accompany me to my betrothal at the Louvre.’ The King, seeing him speak to me, inquired what he had said. ‘He has asked of me, Sire,’ I replied, ‘a thing which I am unable to do.’ ‘And why?’ said he. ‘It is to accompany him to his betrothal. Is he not sufficiently great to go alone, and can he not be betrothed without me being present? I answer that, if there is no one to accompany him but myself, he will be very badly escorted.’ The King said that it was his wish that I should go, to which I replied that I begged his Majesty not to command me, for go I would not; that his Majesty ought to be content that I had renounced my passion at the first expression of his desires and wishes, without desiring to force me to be led in triumph, after having ravished away my wife and all my happiness.’ The King, who was the best of men, said to me: ‘I see well, Bassompierre, that you are angry, but I assure you that you will fail not to go when you have reflected that he who has asked you is my nephew, first prince of my blood.’ Upon which he left me and, taking MM. de Praslin and Termes aside, ordered them to go and dine with me and persuade me to go, since duty and decorum demanded it of me. And this I did, after a little remonstrance, but in such fashion that I did not set out until the princesses were conducting the fiancée to the Louvre, and were passing before my lodging, which obliged me to accompany her with the gentlemen who had dined with me. And then, from the gate of the Louvre, we returned to find Monsieur le Prince, whom we met as he was leaving the Pont-Neuf to come thither. The betrothal took place in the gallery of the Louvre, and the King maliciously leant upon my shoulder and kept me close to the affianced couple during the whole ceremony.”
Two days afterwards, Bassompierre fell ill of tertian fever, and one morning, while he lay in bed, he received a visit from a Gascon gentleman named Noé, who had, or imagined he had, some grievance against him, and who had come to inquire whether he might have the honour of fighting a duel with him, so soon as his strength would permit. Bassompierre replied that he had enough and to spare whenever it was a question of giving another gentleman satisfaction, and, rising forthwith, ordered a horse to be saddled, dressed, and rode off to the “field of honour,” which M. de Noé had appointed at Bicêtre. It was hardly the kind of day which even a hale man would have chosen to indulge in one of these little affairs, as there was a thick fog, and the ground was two feet deep in snow. But he scorned to turn back, and at length reached the rendezvous, where he found his adversary awaiting him.
It had been agreed that, as Bassompierre was in no condition to fight on foot, the combat should take place on horseback; but just as it was about to begin, two Gascons, named La Gaulas and Carbon, with a third man called Le Fay, all of whom were apparently friends of Noé, came galloping up, with the intention of preventing the duel, and called out to that fire-eating gentleman: “You can meet some other time.”
Bassompierre, however, having put himself to so much inconvenience just to oblige M. de Noé, was highly indignant at the interruption, and, resolved not to return to Paris without striking at least one blow, shouted to his adversary to mount his horse, and rode towards him. Noé, who was as anxious to get at Bassompierre as the latter was to get at him, threw himself into the saddle, and though his friends endeavoured to intercept him, he contrived to evade them; and he and Bassompierre were about to cross swords when Carbon urged his horse against the flank of Noé’s with such force that he bore both the animal and its rider to the ground. Noé was soon in the saddle again, but the fog was now so thick that it was quite impossible for one man to recognise another, with the consequence that Bassompierre came near to killing La Gaulas, whom he mistook for Noé. This mishap put an end to the combat, and Bassompierre, who was feeling so ill that he could scarcely sit his horse, made his way to Gentilly, where fortunately he found some friends of his, who assisted him back to Paris.
One might suppose that, after this adventure, our gentleman would have been content to remain in bed for a day or two; but, since there happened to be a grand ballet at the Arsenal that evening, at which all the Court was to be present, and which he was particularly anxious to attend, he must needs array himself in all his bravery and go out into the snow and fog again. The result of this imprudence was that he fell dangerously ill and was at one time at death’s door; and the spring had come before he was about again.