University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Gardens of the Fontainebleau.
Enter Bragelone.
BRAGELONE.
Why did we suffer her to seek the court?
It is a soil in which the reptile Slander
Still coils in slime around the fairest flower.
Can it be true?—Strange rumours pierced my tent
Coupling her name with—pah!—how foul the thought is!—
The maid the King loves!—Fie! I'll not believe it!
I left the camp—sped hither: if she's lost,
Why then!—down—down, base heart! wouldst thou suspect her?
Thou—who shouldst be her shelter from suspicion?
But I may warn, advise, protect, and save her—
Save—'tis a fearful word!

Enter Lauzun.
LAUZUN.
Lord Bragelone!
Methought your warrior spirit never breathed
The air of palaces! No evil tidings,
I trust, from Dunkirk?

BRAGELONE.
No. The fleur-de-lis
Rears her white crest unstained. Mine own affairs
Call me to court.

LAUZUN.
Affairs! I hate the word;
It sounds like debts.

BRAGELONE
(aside.)
This courtier may instruct me.
(Aloud.)
Our King—he bears him well?

LAUZUN.
Oh, bravely, Marquis;
Engaged with this new palace of Versailles.
It costs some forty millions!

BRAGELONE.
Ay, the People
Groan at the burthen!

LAUZUN.
People!—what's the People?
I never heard that word at court!—The People!

BRAGELONE.
I doubt not, Duke. The People, like the Air,
Is rarely heard, save when it speaks in thunder.
I pray you grace for that old-fashioned phrase.
What is the latest news?

LAUZUN.
His majesty
Dines half an hour before his usual time.
That's the last news at court!—it makes sensation!

BRAGELONE.
Is there no weightier news? I heard at Dunkirk
How the King loved a—loved a certain maiden—
The brave La Vallière's daughter!

LAUZUN.
How, my Lord,
How can you vegetate in such a place?
I fancy the next tidings heard at Dunkirk
Will be that—Adam's dead!

BRAGELONE.
The news is old, then?

LAUZUN.
News! news, indeed! Why, by this time, our lackeys
Have worn the gossip threadbare! News!—

BRAGELONE.
The lady
(She is a soldier's child) hath not yet bartered
Her birthright for ambition? She rejects him?
Speak!—She rejects him?

LAUZUN.
Humph!

BRAGELONE.
Oh, Duke, I know
This courtier air—this most significant silence—
With which your delicate race are wont to lie
Away all virtue! Shame upon your manhood!
Speak out, and say Louise la Vallière lives
To prove to courts—that woman can be honest!

LAUZUN.
Marquis, you're warm.

BRAGELONE.
You dare not speak!—I knew it!

LAUZUN.
Dare not?

BRAGELONE.
Oh, yes, you dare, with hints and smiles,
To darken same—to ruin the defenceless—
Blight with a gesture—wither with a sneer!
Did I say ‘dare not?’—No man dares it better!

LAUZUN.
My Lord, these words must pass not!

BRAGELONE.
Duke, forgive me!
I am a rough, stern soldier—taught from youth
To brave offence, and by the sword alone
Maintain the licence of my speech. Oh, say—
Say, but one word!—say this poor maid is sinless,
And, for her father's sake—(her father loved me!)
I'll kneel to thee for pardon!

LAUZUN.
Good, my Lord,
I know not what your interest in this matter:
'Tis said that Louis loves the fair La Vallière;
But what of that?—good taste is not a crime!
'Tis said La Vallière does not hate the King;
But what of that?—it does but prove her—loyal!
I know no more. I trust you're satisfied;
If not—

BRAGELONE.
Thou liest!

LAUZUN.
Nay, then, draw!

(They fight—after a few passes, Lauzun is disarmed.)
BRAGELONE.
There, take
Thy sword! Alas! each slanderer wears a weapon
No honest arm can baffle—this is edgeless.
[Exit Bragelone.

LAUZUN.
Pleasant! This comes, now, of one's condescending
To talk with men who cannot understand
The tone of good society.—Poor fellow!
[Exit Lauzun.

SCENE II.

Enter Mademoiselle de la Vallière.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
He loves me, then! He loves me! Love! wild word!
Did I say love? Dishonour, shame, and crime
Dwell on the thought! And yet—and yet—he loves me!
(Re-enter Bragelone, at the back of the stage.—She takes out the King's picture.)
Mine early dreams were prophets!—Steps! The King?

BRAGELONE.
No, lady; pardon me!—a joint mistake;
You sought the King—and I Louise la Vallière!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
You here, my Lord!—you here!

BRAGELONE.
There was a maiden
Fairer than many fair; but sweet and humble,
And good and spotless, through the vale of life
She walked, her modest path with blessings strewed;
(For all men bless'd her;) from her crystal name,
Like the breath i'the mirror, even envy passed:
I sought that maiden at the court; none knew her.
May I ask you—where now Louise la Vallière?

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Cruel!—unjust!—You were my father's friend,
Dare you speak thus to me?

BRAGELONE.
Dare! dare!—'Tis well!
You have learnt your state betimes!—

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
My state, my Lord!
I know not by what right you thus assume
The privilege of insult!

BRAGELONE.
Ay, reproach!
The harlot's trick—for shame! Oh, no, your pardon!
You are too high for shame: and so—farewell!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
My Lord!—my Lord, in pity—No!—in justice,
Leave me not thus!

BRAGELONE.
Louise!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Have they belied me?
Speak, my good Lord!—What crime have I committed?

BRAGELONE.
No crime—at courts! 'Tis only Heaven and Honour
That deem it aught but—most admired good fortune!
Many, who swept in careless pride before
The shrinking, spotless, timorous La Vallière,
Will now fawn round thee, and with bended knees
Implore sweet favour of the King's kind mistress.
Ha! ha!—this is not crime! Who calls it crime?
Do prudes say ‘Crime?’ Go, bribe them, and they'll swear
Its name is greatness. Crime, indeed!—ha! ha!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
My heart finds words at length!—'Tis false!

BRAGELONE.
'Tis false!
Why, speak again! Say once more it is false—
'Tis false!—again, 'tis false!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
O God, I'm wretched!

BRAGELONE.
No, lady, no! not wretched, if not guilty!

(Mademoiselle de la Vallière, after walking to and fro in great agitation, seats herself on one of the benches of the garden, and covers her face with her hands.)
BRAGELONE
(aside.)
Are these the tokens of remorse? No matter!
I loved her well!—And love is pride, not love,
If it forsake ev'n guilt amidst its sorrows!
(Aloud.)
Louise! Louise!—Speak to thy friend, Louise!
Thy father's friend!—thine own!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
This hated court!
Why came I hither?—Wherefore have I closed
My heart against its own most pleading dictates?
Why clung to virtue, if the brand of vice
Sear my good name?—

BRAGELONE.
That, when thou pray'st to God,
Thy soul may ask for comfort—not forgiveness!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
(rising eagerly.)
A blessed thought!—I thank thee!

BRAGELONE.
Thou art innocent!
Thou hast denied the King?

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
I have denied him!

BRAGELONE.
Curs'd be the lies that wrong'd thee!—doubly curst
The hard, the icy selfishness of soul,
That, but to pander to an hour's caprice,
Blasted that flower of life—fair fame! Accurst
The King who casts his purple o'er his vices!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Hold!—thou malign'st thy king!

BRAGELONE.
He spared not thee!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
The king—God bless him!

BRAGELONE.
Wouldst thou madden me?
Thou!—No—thou lov'st him not?—thou hid'st thy face!
Woman, thou tremblest! Lord of Hosts, for this
Hast thou preserved me from the foeman's sword,
And through the incarnadined and raging seas
Of war upheld my steps?—made life and soul
The sleepless priests to that fair idol—Honour?
Was it for this?—I loved thee not, Louise,
As gallants love! Thou wert this life's IDEAL,
Breathing through earth the Lovely and the Holy,
And clothing Poetry in human beauty!
When in this gloomy world they spoke of sin,
I thought of thee, and smiled—for thou wert sinless!
And when they told of some diviner act
That made our nature noble, my heart whispered—
‘So would have done Louise!’—'Twas thus I loved thee!
To lose thee, I can bear it; but to lose,
With thee, all hope, all confidence, of virtue—
This—this is hard!—Oh! I am sick of earth!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Nay, speak not thus!—be gentle with me. Come,
I am not what thou deem'st me, Bragelone;
Woman I am, and weak. Support, advise me!
Forget the lover, but be still the friend.
Do not desert me—thou!

BRAGELONE.
Thou lov'st the King!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
But I can fly from love!

BRAGELONE.
Poor child! And whither?

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Take me to the old castle, to my mother!

BRAGELONE.
The king can reach thee there!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
He'll not attempt it.
Alas! in courts, how quickly men forget!

BRAGELONE.
Not till their victim hath surrendered all!
Hadst thou but yielded, why thou mightst have lived
Beside his very threshold, safe, unheeded;
But thus, with all thy bloom of heart unrifled,—
The fortress stormed, not conquered,—why man's pride,
If not man's lust, would shut thee from escape!
Art thou in earnest,—wouldst thou truly fly
From gorgeous infamy to tranquil honour,
God's house alone may shelter thee!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
The convent!
Alas! alas! to meet those eyes no more!
Never to hear that voice!

BRAGELONE
(departing.)
Enough.

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Yet, stay!
I'll see him once! one last farewell—and then—
Yes, to the convent!

BRAGELONE.
I have done!—and yet,
Ere I depart, take back the scarf thou gav'st me.
Then didst ‘thou honour worth!’ now, gift and giver
Alike are worthless!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Worthless! Didst thou hear me?
Have I not said that—

BRAGELONE.
Thou wouldst see the King!
Vice first, and virtue after! O'er the marge
Of the abyss thou tremblest! One step more,
And from all heaven the Angels shall cry ‘Lost!’
Thou ask'st that single step! Wouldst thou be saved,
Lose not a moment!—Come!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE
(in great agony.)
Beside that tree,
When stars shone soft, he vowed for aye to love me!

BRAGELONE.
Think of thy mother! At this very hour
She blesses God that thou wert born—the last
Fair scion of a proud and stainless race!
To-morrow, and thy shame may cast a shade
Over a hundred 'scutcheons, and thy mother
Feel thou wert born that she might long to die!
Come!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
I am ready—take my hand!
(Her eye falls on the bracelet.)
Away!
This is his gift! And shall I leave him thus?
Not one kind word to break the shock of parting—

BRAGELONE.
And break a mother's heart!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Be still! Thou'rt man!
Thou canst not feel as woman feels!—her weakness
Thou canst not sound! O Louis, Heaven protect thee!
May Fate look on thee with La Vallière's eyes!
Now I am ready, sir! Thou'st seen how weak
Woman is ever where she loves. Now, learn,
Proportioned to that weakness is the strength
With which she conquers love!—O Louis! Louis!
Quick! take me hence!—

BRAGELONE.
The heart she wrongs hath saved her!
And is that all!—The shelter for mine age—
The Hope that was the garner for Affection—
The fair and lovely tree, beneath whose shade
The wearied soldier thought to rest at last,
And watch life's sun go calm and cloudless down,
Smiling the day to sleep—all, all lie shattered!
No matter! I have saved thy soul from sorrow,
Whose hideous depth thy vision cannot fathom.
Joy!—I have saved thee!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Ah! when last we parted,
I told thee, of thy love I was not worthy.
Another shall replace me!

BRAGELONE
(smiling sadly.)
Hush! Another!
No!—See, I wear thy colours still!—Though Hope
Wanes from the plate, the dial still remains,
And takes no light from stars! I—I am nothing!
But thou—Nay, weep not! Yet these tears are honest:
Thou hast not lived to make the Past one blot,
Which life in vain would weep away! Poor maiden!
I could not cheer thee then. Now, joy!—I've saved thee!

[Exeunt Mademoiselle de la Vallière and Bragelone.

SCENE III.

The King's Cabinet at Fontainebleau; the King seated at a table, covered with papers, &c., writing.
Enter Lauzun.
LOUIS.
Lauzun, I sent for you. Your zeal has served me,
And I am grateful. There, this order gives you
The lands and lordship of De Vesci.

LAUZUN.
Sire,
How shall I thank your goodness?

LOUIS.
Hush!—by silence!

LAUZUN
(aside.)
A king's forbidden fruit has pretty windfalls!

LOUIS.
This beautiful Louise! I never loved
Till now.

LAUZUN.
She yields not yet?

LOUIS.
But gives refusal
A voice that puts ev'n passion to the blush
To own one wish so soft a heart denies it!

LAUZUN.
A woman's No! is but a crooked path
Unto a woman's Yes! Your Majesty
Saw her to-day?

LOUIS.
No!—Grammont undertakes
To bear, in secret, to her hand, some lines
That pray a meeting.—I await his news.

(Continues writing.)
LAUZUN
(aside.)
I'll not relate my tilt with Bragelone.
First, I came off the worst.—No man of sense
Ever confesses that! And, secondly,
This most officious, curious, hot-brained Quixote
Might make him jealous; jealous kings are peevish;
And, if he fall to questioning the lady,
She'll learn who told the tale, and spite the teller.
Oh! the great use of logic!

LOUIS.
'Tis in vain
I strive by business to beguile impatience!
How my heart beats!—Well, Count!

Enter Grammont.
GRAMMONT.
Alas! my Liege!

LOUIS.
Alas!—Speak out!

GRAMMONT.
The court has lost La Vallière!

LOUIS.
Ha!—lost!

GRAMMONT.
She has fled, and none guess whither.

LOUIS.
Fled!
I'll not believe it!—Fled!

LAUZUN.
What matters, Sire?
No spot is sacred from the king!

LOUIS.
By Heaven
I am a king!—Not all the arms of Europe
Could wrest one jewel from my crown. And she—
What is my crown to her? I am a king!
Who stands between the king and her he loves
Becomes a traitor—and may find a tyrant!
Follow me!
[Exit Louis.

GRAMMONT.
Who e'er heard of maids of honour
Flying from kings?

LAUZUN.
Ah, had you been a maid,
How kind you would have been, you rogue!—Come on!

[Exeunt Lauzun and Grammont.

SCENE IV.

Interior of a Convent Chapel; a lofty Crucifix in the centre of the aisle, before which kneels Mademoiselle de la Vallière; Night—Thunder and Lightning, the latter made visible through the long oriel windows.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE
(rising.)
Darkly the night sweeps on. No thought of sleep
Steals to my heart. What sleep is to the world
Prayer is to me—life's balm, and grief's oblivion!
Yet, ev'n before the altar of my God,
Unhallowed fire is raging through my veins—
Heav'n on my lips, but earth within my heart—
And while I pray his memory prompts the prayer,
And all I ask of Heaven is—‘Guard my Louis!’
Forget him—that I dare not pray! I would not
Ev'n if I could, be happy, and forget him!
[Thunder.
Roll on, roll on, dark chariot of the storm.
Whose wheels are thunder!—the rack'd elements
Can furnish forth no tempest like the war
Of passions in one weak and erring heart!
[The bell tolls one.
Hark to night's funeral knell! How through the roar
Of winds and thunder thrills that single sound,
Solemnly audible!—the tongue of time,
In time's most desolate hour!—it bids us muse
On worlds which love can reach not! Life runs fast
To its last sands! To bed, to bed!—to tears
And wishes for the grave!—to bed, to bed!

[A trumpet is heard without.
Two or three Nuns hurry across the stage.
FIRST NUN.
Most strange!

SECOND NUN.
In such a night, too! The great gates,
That ne'er unclose save to a royal guest,
Unbarred!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIERE.
What fear, what hope, by turns distracts me!

[The trumpet sounds again.
FIRST NUN.
Hark! in the court, the ring of hoofs!—the door
Creaks on the sullen hinge!

LAUZUN
(without.)
Make way!—the King!

Enter Louis and Lauzun.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE
(rushing forward.)
Oh, Louis!—oh, belov'd! (Then pausing abruptly.)
No, touch me not!
Leave me! in pity leave me! Heavenly Father,
I fly to thee! Protect me from his arms—
Protect me from myself!

[Sinks at the foot of the crucifix.
LOUIS.
Oh bliss!—Louise!

Enter Abbess and other Nuns.
ABBESS.
Peace, peace! What clamour desecrates the shrine
And solitudes of God?

LAUZUN.
Madam, your knee—
The King!

ABBESS.
The King!—you mock me, sir!

LOUIS
(quitting Mademoiselle de la Vallière.)
Behold
Your Sovereign, reverend Mother! We have come
To thank you for your shelter of this lady,
And to reclaim our charge.

ABBESS.
My Liege, these walls
Are sacred even from the purple robe
And sceptred hand.

LOUIS.
She hath not ta'en the vow!
She's free!—we claim her!—she is of our court!
Woman,—go to!

ABBESS.
The maiden, Sire, is free!
Your royal lips have said it!—She is free!
And if this shrine her choice, whoe'er compels her
Forth from the refuge, doth incur the curse
The Roman Church awards to even Kings!
Speak, lady!—dost thou claim against the court
The asylum of the cloister?

LOUIS.
Darest thou brave us?

LAUZUN
(aside to Louis.)
Pardon, my Liege!—reflect! Let not the world
Say that the king—

LOUIS.
Can break his bonds!—Away!
I was a man before I was a king!
(Approaching Mademoiselle de la Vallière.)
Lady, we do command your presence! (Lowering his voice.)
Sweet!
Adored Louise!—if ever to your ear
My whispers spoke in music—if my life
Be worth the saving, do not now desert me!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE
(clinging to the crucifix.)
Let me not hear him, Heaven!—Strike all my senses!
Make—make me dumb, deaf, blind,—but keep me honest!

ABBESS.
Sire, you have heard her answer!

LOUIS
(advancing passionately, pauses, and then with great dignity.)
Abbess, no!
This lady was entrusted to our charge—
A fatherless child!—The King is now her father!
Madam, we would not wrong you; but we know
That sometimes most unhallowed motives wake
Your zeal for converts!—This young maid is wealthy,
And nobly born!—Such proselytes may make
A convent's pride, but oft a convent's victims!
No more!—we claim the right the law awards us,
Free and alone to commune with this maiden.
If then her choice go with you—be it so;
We are no tyrant! Peace!—retire!

ABBESS.
My Liege!
Forgive—

LOUIS.
We do!—Retire!

(Lauzun, the Abbess, &c., withdraw.)
LOUIS.
We are alone!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Alone!—No! God is present, and the conscience!

LOUIS.
Ah! fear'st thou, then, that heart that would resign
Ev'n love itself to guard one pang from thee?

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE
(rising, but still with one arm clinging to the crucifix.)
I must speak!—Sire, if every drop of blood
Were in itself a life, I'd shed them all
For one hour's joy to thee!—But fame and virtue—
My father's grave—my mother's lonely age—
These, these—
(Thunder.)
I hear their voice!—the fires of Heaven
Seem to me like the eyes of angels, and
Warn me against myself!—Farewell!

LOUIS.
Louise,
I will not hear thee! What! farewell? that word
Sounds like a knell to all that's worth the living!
Farewell! why, then, farewell all peace to Louis
And the poor King is once more but a thing
Of state and forms. The impulse and the passion—
The blessed air of happy human life—
The all that made him envy not his subjects
Dies in that word! Ah, canst thou—dar'st thou say it?

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Oh, speak not thus!—Speak harshly!—threat: command!—
Be all the King!

LOUIS.
The King! he kneels to thee!

[Lightning.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Not there!—not at the cross!—the angry lightning,
See how it darts around!—not there!

LOUIS
(passing his arm round her.)
So ever
Would this heart guard thine own!

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
In mercy leave me!
I'm weak—be generous! My own soul betrays me;
But thou betray me not!

LOUIS.
Nay, hear me, sweet one!—
Desert me not this once, and I will swear
To know no guiltier wish—to curb my heart—
To banish hope from love—and nurse no dream
Thy spotless soul itself shall blush to cherish?
Hear me, Louise—thou lov'st me?

MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Love thee, Louis!

LOUIS.
Thou lov'st me,—then confide! Who loves, trusts ever!

(Mademoiselle de la Vallière has insensibly let go her hold of the cross, and now placing her hand on his arm, looks him in the face.)
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
Trust thee!—ah! dare I?

LOUIS
(clasping her in his arms.)
Ay, till death! What ho!
Lauzun! I say!

Enter Lauzun.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA VALLIÈRE.
(Endeavouring again to cling to the cross.)
No, no!

LOUIS.
Not trust me, dearest?

(She falls on his shoulder—the Abbess and Nuns advance.)
ABBESS.
Still firm!

LAUZUN.
No, Madam!—Way, there, for the King!