Chapter 4: Father and Son.

Raoul followed the well-known road, so dear to his memory, which led from Blois to the residence of the Comte de la Fere.

The reader will dispense with a second description of that habitation: he, perhaps, has been with us there before, and knows it. Only, since our last journey thither, the walls had taken a grayer tint, and the brickwork assumed a more harmonious copper tone; the trees had grown, and many that then only stretched their slender branches along the tops of the hedges, now bushy, strong, and luxuriant, cast around, beneath boughs swollen with sap, great shadows of blossoms of fruit for the benefit of the traveler.

Raoul perceived, from a distance, the two little turrets, the dove-cote in the elms, and the flights of pigeons, which wheeled incessantly around that brick cone, seemingly without power to quit it, like the sweet memories which hover round a spirit at peace.

As he approached, he heard the noise of the pulleys which grated under the weight of the massy pails; he also fancied he heard the melancholy moaning of the water which falls back again into the wells--a sad, funereal, solemn sound, which strikes the ear of the child and the poet--both dreamers--which the English call splash; Arabian poets, gasgachau; and which we Frenchmen, who would be poets, can only translate by a paraphrase--the noise of water falling into water.

It was more than a year since Raoul had been to visit his father. He had passed the whole time in the household of M. le Prince. In fact, after all the commotions of the Fronde, of the early period of which we formerly attempted to give a sketch, Louis de Conde had made a public, solemn, and frank reconciliation with the court. During all the time that the rupture between the king and the prince had lasted, the prince, who had long entertained a great regard for Bragelonne, had in vain offered him advantages of the most dazzling kind for a young man. The Comte de la Fere, still faithful to his principles of loyalty and royalty, one day developed before his son in the vaults of Saint Denis,--the Comte de la Fere, in the name of his son, had always declined them. Moreover, instead of following M. de Conde in his rebellion, the vicomte had followed M. de Turenne, fighting for the king. Then when M. de Turenne, in his turn, had appeared to abandon the royal cause, he had quitted M. de Turenne, as he had quitted M. de Conde. It resulted from this invariable line of conduct that, as Conde and Turenne had never been conquerors of each other but under the standard of the king, Raoul, however young, had ten victories inscribed on his list of services, and not one defeat from which his bravery or conscience had to suffer.

Raoul, therefore, had, in compliance with the wish of his father, served obstinately and passively the fortunes of Louis XIV., in spite of the tergiversations which were endemic, and, it might be said, inevitable, at that period.

M. de Conde, on being restored to favor, had at once availed himself of all the privileges of the amnesty to ask for many things back again which had been granted him before, and among others, Raoul. M. de la Fere, with his invariable good sense, had immediately sent him again to the prince.

A year, then, had passed away since the separation of the father and son; a few letters had softened, but not removed, the pains of absence. We have seen that Raoul had left at Blois another love in addition to filial love. But let us do him this justice--if it had not been for chance and Mademoiselle de Montalais, two great temptations, Raoul, after delivering his message, would have galloped off towards his father’s house, turning his head round, perhaps, but without stopping for a single instant, even if Louise had held out her arms to him.

So the first part of the journey was given by Raoul to regretting the past which he had been forced to quit so quickly, that is to say, his lady-love; and the other part to the friend he was about to join, so much too slowly for his wishes.

Raoul found the garden-gate open, and rode straight in, without regarding the long arms, raised in anger, of an old man dressed in a jacket of violet-colored wool, and a large cap of faded velvet.

The old man, who was weeding with his hands a bed of dwarf roses and marguerites, was indignant at seeing a horse thus traversing his sanded and nicely-raked walks. He even ventured a vigorous “Humph!” which made the cavalier turn round. Then there was a change of scene; for no sooner had he caught sight of Raoul’s face, than the old man sprang up and set off in the direction of the house, amidst interrupted growlings, which appeared to be paroxysms of wild delight.

When arrived at the stables, Raoul gave his horse to a little lackey, and sprang up the perron with an ardor that would have delighted the heart of his father.

He crossed the ante-chamber, the dining-room, and the salon, without meeting with any one; at length, on reaching the door of M. de la Fere’s apartment, he rapped impatiently, and entered almost without waiting for the word “Enter!” which was vouchsafed him by a voice at once sweet and serious. The comte was seated at a table covered with papers and books; he was still the noble, handsome gentleman of former days, but time had given to this nobleness and beauty a more solemn and distinct character. A brow white and void of wrinkles, beneath his long hair, now more white than black; an eye piercing and mild, under the lids of a young man; his mustache, fine but slightly grizzled, waved over lips of a pure and delicate model, as if they had never been curled by mortal passions; a form straight and supple; an irreproachable but thin hand--this was what remained of the illustrious gentleman whom so many illustrious mouths had praised under the name of Athos. He was engaged in correcting the pages of a manuscript book, entirely filled by his own hand.

Raoul seized his father by the shoulders, by the neck, as he could, and embraced him so tenderly and so rapidly, that the comte had neither strength nor time to disengage himself, or to overcome his paternal emotions.

“What! you here, Raoul,--you! Is it possible?” said he.

“Oh, monsieur, monsieur, what joy to see you once again!”

“But you don’t answer me, vicomte. Have you leave of absence, or has some misfortune happened at Paris?”

“Thank God, monsieur,” replied Raoul, calming himself by degrees, “nothing has happened but what is fortunate. The king is going to be married, as I had the honor of informing you in my last letter, and, on his way to Spain, he will pass through Blois.”

“To pay a visit to Monsieur?”

“Yes, monsieur le comte. So, fearing to find him unprepared, or wishing to be particularly polite to him, monsieur le prince sent me forward to have the lodgings ready.”

“You have seen Monsieur?” asked the vicomte, eagerly.

“I have had that honor.”

“At the castle?”

“Yes, monsieur,” replied Raoul, casting down his eyes, because, no doubt, he had felt there was something more than curiosity in the comte’s inquiries.

“Ah, indeed, vicomte? Accept my compliments thereupon.”

Raoul bowed.

“But you have seen some one else at Blois?”

“Monsieur, I saw her royal highness, Madame.”

“That’s very well: but it is not Madame that I mean.’

Raoul colored deeply, but made no reply.

“You do not appear to understand me, monsieur le vicomte,” persisted M. de la Fere, without accenting his words more strongly, but with a rather severer look.

“I understand you quite plainly, monsieur,” replied Raoul, “and if I hesitate a little in my reply, you are well assured I am not seeking for a falsehood.”

“No, you cannot tell a lie, and that makes me so astonished you should be so long in saying yes or no.”

“I cannot answer you without understanding you very well, and if I have understood you, you will take my first words in ill part. You will be displeased, no doubt, monsieur le comte, because I have seen----”

“Mademoiselle de la Valliere--have you not?”

“It was of her you meant to speak, I know very well, monsieur,” said Raoul, with inexpressible sweetness.

“And I asked you if you have seen her.”

“Monsieur, I was ignorant, when I entered the castle, that Mademoiselle de la Valliere was there; it was only on my return, after I had performed my mission, that chance brought us together. I have had the honor of paying my respects to her.”

“But what do you call the chance that led you into the presence of Mademoiselle de la Valliere?”

“Mademoiselle de Montalais, monsieur.”

“And who is Mademoiselle de Montalais?”

“A young lady I did not know before, whom I had never seen. She is maid of honor to Madame.”

“Monsieur le vicomte, I will push my interrogatory no further, and reproach myself with having carried it so far. I had desired you to avoid Mademoiselle de la Valliere, and not to see her without my permission. Oh, I am quite sure you have told me the truth, and that you took no measures to approach her. Chance has done me this injury; I do not accuse you of it. I will be content then, with what I formerly said to you concerning this young lady. I do not reproach her with anything--God is my witness! only it is not my intention or wish that you should frequent her place of residence. I beg you once more, my dear Raoul, to understand that.”

It was plain the limpid eyes of Raoul were troubled at this speech.

“Now, my friend,” said the comte, with his soft smile, and in his customary tone, “let us talk of other matters. You are returning, perhaps, to your duty?”

“No, monsieur, I have no duty for to-day, except the pleasure of remaining with you. The prince kindly appointed me no other: which was so much in accord with my wish.”

“Is the king well?”

“Perfectly.”

“And monsieur le prince also?”

“As usual, monsieur.”

The comte forgot to inquire after Mazarin; that was an old habit.

“Well, Raoul, since you are entirely mine, I will give up my whole day to you. Embrace me--again, again! You are at home, vicomte! Ah, there is our old Grimaud! Come in, Grimaud: monsieur le vicomte is desirous of embracing you likewise.”

The good old man did not require to be twice told; he rushed in with open arms, Raoul meeting him halfway.

“Now, if you please, we will go into the garden, Raoul. I will show you the new lodging I have had prepared for you during your leave of absence, and whilst examining the last winter’s plantations and two saddle-horses I have just acquired, you will give me all the news of our friends in Paris.”

The comte closed his manuscript, took the young man’s arm, and went out into the garden with him.

Grimaud looked at Raoul with a melancholy air as the young man passed out; observing that his head nearly touched the traverse of the doorway, stroking his white royale, he slowly murmured:

“How he has grown!”