 | The Duchess de la Vallière |  |
SCENE IV.
The Gardens of Versailles—Lauzun, Grammont, and Courtiers.LAUZUN.
'Tis now the hour in which our royal master
Honours the ground of his rejoicing gardens
By his illustrious footsteps!—there, my lords,
That is the true style-courtier!
89
Out upon you!
Your phrase would suit some little German prince,
Of fifteen hundred quarterings and five acres,
And not the world's great Louis! 'Tis the hour
When Phœbus shrinks abashed, and all the stars
Envy the day that it beholds the King!
(To them, Marquis de Montespan, in bright scarlet hose.)
MARQUIS DE MONTESPAN.
Most beautiful! You have a turn of thought,
A taste, a sentiment, so chaste and noble!
Oh, I am charmed—enraptured!
LAUZUN.
You here, Marquis!
Why, you make Grammont blush. Such praise from you
Will turn his bashful brain! Dear Montespan,
You are the glass of fashion! Heavens, what stockings!
The exquisite man!
MONTESPAN.
I'faith, methinks they're pretty.
90
Pretty!—if I were married, 'troth, my Duchess
Should keep her train at a respectful distance;
You'd set it on a blaze! You walk the earth
Like Cupid mounted on a pair of flambeaux!
Oh, you're a dangerous man!
MONTESPAN.
So says my wife,
And begs me not to come too near her—lest
She love me too outrageously! At courts,
People of quality must be decorous;
'Tis not the mode to seem adored too much.
LAUZUN.
Your wife's an angel! Apropos, dear Marquis;
You see a friend's advice was worth the taking;
Your lady's all the rage;—the King admires her.
MONTESPAN.
The King!—I'm in despair—I mean, dear Duke,
I am enraptured!—hum!—
LAUZUN.
You are not jealous?
MONTESPAN.
Zounds!—jealous!—no!
91
No Marquis can be jealous!
MONTESPAN.
Not of a count or baron; but a king!
S'death, if I thought it—were my honour touched,
An' it were fifty kings—
Enter Louis.
LOUIS.
Good day, my Lords!
Pray you be covered. Well!—what says the Marquis
Of fifty kings?
MONTESPAN.
I—I—I'm in despair!
LAUZUN.
That fifty kings would never make one Louis!
LOUIS.
Go to, thou flatterer! Harkye, dear De Lauzun.
[Exeunt the Courtiers, as the King takes Lauzun aside.
92
(aside.)
My wife said right; this worthy duke has got
The true court politesse!—He lies divinely!
[Exit Montespan.
LAUZUN.
This Montespan I own is wondrous silly;
But he has one good quality—his wife!
LOUIS.
That's true!—a charming face!
LAUZUN.
Ah! had she heard you,
Your Majesty had made one blissful subject.
LOUIS.
Nay, Lauzun, nay!
LAUZUN.
Her soul is like the Persian,
And on the loftiest eminence hath built
A shrine of fire. But, pardon me, my Liege;
I had forgot, your royal taste prefers
Natures that love less warmly—though as well.
LOUIS.
Hem!—But, in truth, this lady's worth the loving;
And, by mine honour, while we speak, she comes!
A happy fortune.
93
LAUZUN
(archly.)
Sire, may I withdraw?
LOUIS.
Some message from the Queen; why—as thou wilt.
LAUZUN
(aside.)
Methinks it may be as I will!
[Exit Lauzun.
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
(Appearing for the first time to perceive Louis.)
The King!
(Salutes him, and passes on.)
LOUIS.
Fair Madam, we had hoped you with you brought
Some bright excuse to grace our cheerless presence
With a less short-lived light! You dawn upon us
Only to make us more regret your setting.
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
Sire, if I dared, I would most gladly hail
A few short moments to arrest your presence,
And rid me of a soft, yet painful duty.
94
'Tis the first time, be sure, so sweet a voice
E'er crav'd a sanction for delighting silence.
Speak on, we pray thee!
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
Gracious Sire, the Duchess,
Whom you have lately left, she fears, in anger,
Besought me to present this letter to you.
LOUIS
(takes the letter, and aside.)
She blushes while she speaks!—'Tis passing strange,
I ne'er remarked those darkly-dreaming eyes,
That melt in their own light!
(Reads, and carelessly puts up the letter.)
It scarcely suits
Her dignity, and ours, to choose a witness
To what hath chanced between us. She is good;
But her youth, spent in some old country castle,
Knows not the delicate spirit of a court.
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
She bade me back her suit. Alas! my Liege,
Who can succeed, if fair La Vallière fail?
LOUIS.
She bade thee?—she was prudent! Were I woman,
And loved, I'd not have chosen such a herald.
95
Love varies in its colours with all tempers;
The Duchess is too proud to fear a rival,
Too beautiful to find one. May I take
Some word of comfort back to cheer her sadness?
Made doubly deep by thoughts of your displeasure,
And grief for a dear friend.
LOUIS.
Aye, that's the sadness!
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
He was a gallant lord, this Bragelone,
And her betrothed. Perchance in youth she loved him,
Ere the great sun had quenched the morning star!
LOUIS.
She loved him!—think'st thou so?
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
Indeed I know not;
But I have heard her eloquent in praise,
And seen her lost in woe. You will forgive her!
LOUIS.
Forgive her?—there's no cause!
96
Now, bless you, Sire,
For that one word. My task is done.
LOUIS.
Already?
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
What can I more? Oh, let me hasten back!
What rapture must be hers who can but fill
An atom of the heart of godlike Louis!
How much more the whole soul!—To lose thy love
Must be, not grief, but some sublime despair
Like that the Roman felt who lost a world!
LOUIS.
By Heaven, she fires me!—a brave, royal spirit,
Worthy to love a king!
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
To know thee hers,
What pride!—what glory! Though all earth cried ‘Shame!’
Earth could not still the trumpet at her heart,
That, with its swelling and exultant voice,
Told her the earth was but the slave of Louis,
And she the partner! And, O hour of dread!
97
Shall win thee from her—still, methinks, 'twould be
A boast to far posterity to point
To all the trophies piled about thy throne,
And say—‘He loved me once!’—O Sire, your pardon;
I am too bold.
LOUIS.
Why, this were love, indeed,
Could we but hope to win it. And such love
Would weave the laurel in its wreaths of myrtle.
Beautiful lady! while thou speak'st, I dream
What love should be,—and feel where love is not!
Thou com'st the suitor, to remain the judge;
And I could kneel to thee for hope and mercy.
MADAME DE MONTESPAN.
Ah, no!—ah, no!—she is my friend. And if
She love not as I love—I mean, I might love—
Still she believes she loves thee. Tempt me not.
Who could resist thee! Sire, farewell!
[Exit Madame de Montespan.
LOUIS.
Her voice
Is hush'd; but still its queen-like music lingers
In my rapt ears. I dreamt Louise had loved me;
98
How the tame counterfeit grows pale and lifeless.
By the sad brow of yon devout La Vallière
I feel a man, and fear myself a culprit!
But this high spirit wakes in mine the sense
Of what it is—I am that Louis whom
The world has called ‘The Great!’—and in her pride
Mirror mine own. This jaded life assumes
The zest, the youth, the glory of excitement!
To-night we meet again;—speed fast, dull hours!
[Exit Louis.
| The Duchess de la Vallière | |