"I know only that you are my angel, Anne. What more could I wish?"
Thus this first visit passed off to the highest satisfaction of madame. D'Agenois had always pleased her, was ever obedient to her way of thinking, was singularly unselfish and unsuspicious, and his blind devotion to her was perhaps the only reason why she did not care for him as she had seemed to care for Louis of France. The young Duke was, moreover, still far from well; and la Châteauroux was enough of a woman to have a taste for humoring a patient who threw himself, utterly regardless of consequences, upon her mercy. The first, then, became the beginning of an infinite series of visits, none of which was short. Madame had not been in Paris a week before she discovered that nothing but the boldest possible course was open to her now. The story of her dismissal from Metz, exaggerated in every way, was discussed from palace to fish-market. She was pointed out in the streets and accosted with insulting remarks. The haute bourgeoisie itself sneered at her, and as for the noblesse, those who in the old days had schemed for weeks to obtain an invitation to her salon, could now have seen the moons of Saturn with the naked eye more easily than they would behold Mme. de Châteauroux in her chair. Mme. de Mailly-Nesle refused to admit either sister to her hôtel. Henri at intervals went to the Rue du Bac out of duty, not pleasure. Mme. de Tencin, while she frequently summoned both sisters to her side when she was alone, was always singularly unable to receive Madame la Duchesse during one of her evenings. Of all the former friends and sycophants, Victorine de Coigny was the single person who allowed herself to be seen in all places, at all hours, with the deposed favorite, without finding her popularity thereby lessened. But the little Maréchale was a peculiar case. It was her role to be unusual, unconventional; and this one thing added to her risqué list could not harm her. Even had there been danger in it, Victorine would have clung to the other woman, for the sake of their old friendship. But Victorine had a rash nature.
Amid her little turmoil Marie Anne moved with apparent serenity. Certainly her world, what part of it was still in Paris, must at first have suspected the pangs of mortification that they daily caused her. But, so far as outward evidence was concerned, there was none. A woman who had had the wit and the unscrupulous fortitude to attain to the position once occupied by Marie Anne de Mailly-Nesle, possessed enough strength of character to accept the circumstances attendant on her fall with excellent philosophy. She was the talk of all Paris, of Versailles, and of Sceaux. Her attitude was unceasingly watched and commented on; and, after two weeks, a new idea began to dawn in the various salons. It was the startling one that madame had found a new string for her straightened bow. The idea originated when, one evening at the Hôtel du Tours, the discovery was made that five people, on five consecutive days, had seen the chair of Mme. de Châteauroux waiting in the Rue de l'Evêque at the door of the d'Agenois hôtel.
Three of these people, moreover, had seen her herself issue from the hôtel door, had refused recognition to her, and gone their ways. The salon of M. Vauvenargues gasped. What a plan of action! How daring! How truly like the whilom favorite! Was she in love with him, after all? What were the arms of Châteauroux and d'Agenois? Were the quarterings harmonious? By the middle of September the wedding was discussed as a surety, and many a grande dame wondered if she might not throw hauteur to the winds and go. Who would not wish to study the bridal dress? And then—after—question of questions!—what would accrue when his Majesty returned? The salons gasped again, wondered, and waited.
Matters also waited for some time. There occurred one of those aggravatingly hopeless stand-stills when society purfled and shrugged and created tireless smoke at a rate which science could not easily measure. No wedding announcement was made; neither did his Majesty return to Paris. Fribourg had proved to be a city possessed of rather better resources of defence than the Court before its walls had of amusement. After two weeks of cannonading and unsuccessful sorties on the part of the besieged, the Court grew very bored indeed, and most of the ladies followed her Majesty back to France. If the Queen had wished to stay longer at Louis' side, she did not voice the wish, for her husband entertained a different notion. Among the few departing gentlemen was a certain M. Lenormand d'Etioles, a nonentity to history, who very joyfully accompanied his wife away from the occasional sight of his Majesty, to an estate at Meudon, where madame deigned to reside for one month.
The last siege of the campaign was at last triumphantly concluded on the 28th day of October, and three days later came the first rumor of the King's approaching return to Paris. France received the news with hysterical joy. It was odd, considering his ways, how universally adored throughout his youth this King was. To his people he was a warrior hero. And, indeed, his personality, since the first time that he had appeared in public, in a golden robe one yard long, with violet leading-strings about his little shoulders, had been beautiful enough to inspire worship. The portraits of his old age are hideous enough; but that of Vanloo, which the great painter declared he could not do justice to, is the one which should stand out above all others as the true picture of this King of lotus-eaters. Preparations were made to give his Majesty, and what of the army was with him, a magnificent reception. An evening procession was arranged, during which all Paris and her river were literally to roll in fire. The Faubourg St. Antoine turned out en masse for the occasion, and, stranger still, not a noble in the city but contributed certain louis d'or for fireworks, and arranged windows and a party to view the procession.
Mme. de Châteauroux was addressed by no one on the subject of these preparations. The royal coach would pass neither the Rue du Bac nor the Rue de l'Evêque. Mme. de Mailly-Nesle did not dream of asking her sister-in-law to sit at her windows overlooking the Pont Royal, which Louis must cross on his way to the Tuileries. But even had the invitation been given, the Duchess would have refused it. It was not in her plan that the King should find her face among those of the throng; but eagerly she prayed that its absence might be felt.
"François, upon the 13th of November I shall stay all day here with you. Nay, better, you shall come to me, and I will serve you such a little supper as—"
"Anne! Who could touch food in thy presence?"
Madame smiled at him, and they ceased to speak. They could sit silent now for uncounted minutes, madame knowing every thought that flitted through the brain of the young man; d'Agenois fancying, perhaps, that he knew as much of the Duchess. If this were not so, what mattered it? He was supremely happy. He had lost all jealousy, even of royalty, for he willingly believed what she told him with every look: that she loved him, only, at last.