Give me a man who will shape his life and live it with all his strength.I am tired of sham and pretence, of cynical wit, of mocking at the real things of life, of pride, vain-glory, and hypocrisy.Give me a man whose existence means something.''
Was she thinking of the Englishman of whom she had spoken? Delicacy forbade my asking the question.He had been a man, according to her own testimony.Where was he now? Her voice had a ring of earnestness in it I had never heard before, and this arraignment of her own life and of her old friends surprised me.Now she seemed lost in a revery, from which I forebore to arouse her.
``I have often tried to picture your life,'' I said at last.
``You?'' she answered, turning her head quickly.
``Ever since I first saw the miniature,'' I said.
``Monsieur de St.Gre told me some things, and afterwards Iread `Le Mariage de Figaro,' and some novels, and some memoirs of the old courts which I got in Philadelphia last winter.I used to think of you as I rode over the mountains, as I sat reading in my room of an evening.
I used to picture you in the palaces amusing the Queen and making the Cardinals laugh.And then I used to wonder--what became of you--and whether--'' I hesitated, overwhelmed by a sudden confusion.for she was gazing at me fixedly with a look I did not understand.
``You used to think of that?'' she said.
``I never thought to see you,'' I answered.
Laughter came into her eyes, and I knew that I had not vexed her.But I had spoken stupidly, and I reddened.
``I had a quick tongue,'' she said, as though to cover my confusion.``I have it yet.In those days misfortune had not curbed it.I had not learned to be charitable.
When I was a child I used to ride with my father to the hunts at St.Gre, and I was too ready to pick out the weaknesses of his guests.If one of the company had a trick or a mannerism, I never failed to catch it.People used to ask me what I thought of such and such a person, and that was bad for me.I saw their failings and pretensions, but I ignored my own.It was the same at Abbaye aux Bois, the convent where I was taught.When I was presented to her Majesty I saw why people hated her.They did not understand her.She was a woman with a large heart, with charity.Some did not suspect this, others forgot it because they beheld a brilliant personage with keen perceptions who would not submit to being bored.
Her Majesty made many enemies at court of persons who believed she was making fun of them.There was a dress-maker at the French court called Mademoiselle Bertin, who became ridiculously pretentious because the Queen allowed the woman to dress her hair in private.Bertin used to put on airs with the nobility when they came to order gowns, and she was very rude to me when I went for my court dress.There was a ball at Versailles the day I was presented, and my father told me that her Majesty wished to speak with me.I was very much frightened.The Queen was standing with her back to the mirror, the Duchesse de Polignac and some other ladies beside her, when my father brought me up, and her Majesty was smiling.
`` `What did you say to Bertin, Mademoiselle?' she asked.
``I was more frightened than ever, but the remembrance of the woman's impudence got the better of me.
`` `I told her that in dressing your Majesty's hair she had acquired all the court accomplishments but one.'
`` `I'll warrant that Bertin was curious,' said the Queen.
`` `She was, your Majesty.'
`` `What is the accomplishment she lacks?' the Queen demanded; `I should like to know it myself.'
``It is discrimination, your Majesty.I told the woman there were some people she could be rude to with impunity.
I was not one of them.'
`` `She'll never be rude to you again, Mademoiselle,'
said the Queen.
`` `I am sure of it, your Majesty,' I said.
``The Queen laughed, and bade the Duchesse de Polignac invite me to supper that evening.My father was delighted,--I was more frightened than ever.But the party was small, her Majesty was very gracious and spoke to me often, and I saw that above all things she liked to be amused.Poor lady! It was a year after that terrible affair of the necklace, and she wished to be distracted from thinking of the calumnies which were being heaped upon her.She used to send for me often during the years that followed, and I might have had a place at court near her person.But my father was sensible enough to advise me not to accept,--if I could refuse without offending her Majesty.The Queen was not offended; she was good enough to say that I was wise in my request.
She had, indeed, abolished most of the ridiculous etiquette of the court.She would not eat in public, she would not be followed around the palace by ladies in court gowns, she would not have her ladies in the room when she was dressing.If she wished a mirror, she would not wait for it to be passed through half a dozen hands and handed her by a Princess of the Blood.Sometimes she used to summon me to amuse her and walk with me by the water in the beautiful gardens of the Petit Triano.I used to imitate the people she disliked.I disliked them, too.Ihave seen her laugh until the tears came into her eyes when I talked of Monsieur Necker.As the dark days drew nearer I loved more and more to be in the seclusion of the country at Montmery, at the St.Gre of my girlhood.
I can see St.Gre now,'' said the Vicomtesse, ``the thatched houses of the little village on either side of the high-road, the honest, red-faced peasants courtesying in their doorways at our berline, the brick wall of the park, the iron gates beside the lodge, the long avenue of poplars, the deer feeding in the beechwood, the bridge over the shining stream and the long, weather-beaten chateau beyond it.Paris and the muttering of the storm were far away.
The mornings on the sunny terrace looking across the valley to the blue hills, the walks in the village, grew very dear to me.We do not know the value of things, Mr.
Ritchie, until we are about to lose them.''
``You did not go back to court?'' I asked.
She sighed.
