Nothing further interrupted the journey. Under a pretextthat was little remarked, M. de Wardes went forward inadvance of the others. He took Manicamp with him, for hisequable and dreamy disposition acted as a counterpoise tohis own. It is a subject of remark, that quarrelsome andrestless characters invariably seek the companionship ofgentle, timorous dispositions, as if the former sought, inthe contrast, a repose for their own ill-humor, and thelatter a protection for their weakness. Buckingham andBragelonne admitting De Guiche into their friendship, inconcert with him, sang the praises of the princess duringthe whole of the journey. Bragelonne had, however, insistedthat their three voices should be in concert, instead ofsinging in solo parts, as De Guiche and his rival seemed tohave acquired a dangerous habit of investigation. This styleof harmony pleased the queen-mother exceedingly, but it wasnot perhaps so agreeable to the young princess, who was anincarnation of coquetry, and who, without any fear as far asher own voice was concerned, sought opportunities of soperilously distinguishing herself. She possessed one ofthose fearless and incautious dispositions that findgratification in an excess of sensitiveness of feeling, andfor whom, also, danger has a certain fascination. And so herglances, her smiles, her toilette, an inexhaustible armoryof weapons of offense. were showered on the three young menwith overwhelming force; and, from her well-stored arsenalissued glances, kindly recognitions, and a thousand otherlittle charming attentions which were intended to strike atlong range the gentlemen who formed the escort, thetownspeople, the officers of the different cities she passedthrough, pages, populace, and servants; it was wholesaleslaughter, a general devastation. By the time Madame arrivedat Paris, she had reduced to slavery about a hundredthousand lovers: and brought in her train to Paris half adozen men who were almost mad about her, and two who were,indeed, literally out of their minds. Raoul was the onlyperson who divined the power of this woman's attraction, andas his heart was already engaged, he arrived in the capitalfull of indifference and distrust. Occasionally during thejourney he conversed with the queen of England respectingthe power of fascination which Madame possessed, and themother, whom so many misfortunes and deceptions had taughtexperience, replied: "Henrietta was sure to be illustriousin one way or another, whether born in a palace or born inobscurity; for she is a woman of great imagination,capricious and self-willed." De Wardes and Manicamp, intheir self-assumed character of courtiers, had announced theprincess's arrival. The procession was met at Nanterre by abrilliant escort of cavaliers and carriages. It was Monsieurhimself, followed by the Chevalier de Lorraine and by hisfavorites, the latter being themselves followed by a portionof the king's military household, who had arrived to meethis affianced bride. At St. Germain, the princess and hermother had changed their heavy traveling carriage, somewhatimpaired by the journey, for a light, richly decoratedchariot drawn by six horses with white and gold harness.Seated in this open carriage, as though upon a throne, andbeneath a parasol of embroidered silk, fringed withfeathers, sat the young and lovely princess, on whosebeaming face were reflected the softened rose-tints whichsuited her delicate skin to perfection. Monsieur, onreaching the carriage, was struck by her beauty; he showedhis admiration in so marked a manner that the Chevalier deLorraine shrugged his shoulders as he listened to hiscompliments, while Buckingham and De Guiche were almostheart-broken. After the usual courtesies had been rendered,and the ceremony completed, the procession slowly resumedthe road to Paris. The presentations had been carelesslymade, and Buckingham, with the rest of the Englishgentlemen, had been introduced to Monsieur, from whom theyhad received but very indifferent attention. But, duringtheir progress, as he observed that the duke devoted himselfwith his accustomed earnestness to the carriage-door, heasked the Chevalier de Lorraine, his inseparable companion,"Who is that cavalier?"

"He was presented to your highness a short while ago; it isthe handsome Duke of Buckingham."

"Ah, yes, I remember."

"Madame's knight," added the favorite, with an inflection ofthe voice which envious minds can alone give to the simplestphrases.

"What do you say?" replied the prince.

"I said `Madame's knight.'"

"Has she a recognized knight, then?"

"One would think you can judge of that for yourself; look,only, how they are laughing and flirting. All three ofthem."

"What do you mean by all three?"

"Do you not see that De Guiche is one of the party?"

"Yes, I see. But what does that prove?"

"That Madame has two admirers instead of one."

"Thou poison the simplest thing!"

"I poison nothing. Ah! your royal highness's mind isperverted. The honors of the kingdom of France are beingpaid to your wife and you are not satisfied."

The Duke of Orleans dreaded the satirical humor of theChevalier de Lorraine whenever it reached a certain degreeof bitterness, and he changed the conversation abruptly."The princess is pretty," said he, very negligently, as ifhe were speaking of a stranger.

"Yes," replied the chevalier, in the same tone.

"You say `yes' like a `no.' She has very beautiful blackeyes."

"Yes, but small."

"That is so, but they are brilliant. She is tall, and of agood figure."

"I fancy she stoops a little, my lord?"

"I do not deny it. She has a noble appearance."

"Yes, but her face is thin."

"I thought her teeth beautiful."

"They can easily be seen, for her mouth is large enough.Decidedly, I was wrong, my lord; you are certainly handsomerthan your wife."

"But do you think me as handsome as Buckingham?"

"Certainly, and he thinks so, too; for look, my lord, he isredoubling his attentions to Madame to prevent your effacingthe impression he has made."

Monsieur made a movement of impatience, but as he noticed asmile of triumph pass across the chevalier's lips, he drewup his horse to a foot-pace. "Why," said he, "should Ioccupy myself any longer about my cousin? Do I not alreadyknow her? Were we not brought up together? Did I not see herat the Louvre when she was quite a child?"

"A great change has taken place in her since then, prince.At the period you allude to, she was somewhat lessbrilliant, and scarcely so proud, either. One evening,particularly, you may remember, my lord, the king refused todance with her, because he thought her plain and badlydressed!"

These words made the Duke of Orleans frown. It was by nomeans flattering for him to marry a princess of whom, whenyoung, the king had not thought much. He would probably haveretorted, but at this moment De Guiche quitted the carriageto join the prince. He had remarked the prince and thechevalier together, and full of anxious attention he seemedto try and guess the nature of the remarks which they hadjust exchanged. The chevalier, whether he had sometreacherous object in view, or from imprudence, did not takethe trouble to dissimulate. "Count," he said, "you're a manof excellent taste."

"Thank you for the compliment," replied De Guiche; "but whydo you say that?"

"Well, I appeal to his highness."

"No doubt of it," said Monsieur, "and Guiche knows perfectlywell that I regard him as a most finished cavalier."

"Well, since that is decided, I resume. You have been in theprincess's society, count, for the last eight days, have younot?"

"Yes," replied De Guiche, coloring in spite of himself.

"Well, then, tell us frankly, what do you think of herpersonal appearance?"

"Of her personal appearance?" returned De Guiche, stupefied.

"`Yes; of her appearance, of her mind, of herself, in fact."

Astounded by this question, De Guiche hesitated answering.

"Come, come, De Guiche," resumed the chevalier, laughingly,"tell us your opinion frankly; the prince commands it."

"Yes, yes," said the prince, "be frank."

De Guiche stammered out a few unintelligible words.

"I am perfectly well aware," returned Monsieur, "that thesubject is a delicate one, but you know you can tell meeverything. What do you think of her?"

In order to avoid betraying his real thoughts, De Guiche hadrecourse to the only defense which a man taken by surprisereally has, and accordingly told an untruth. "I do not findMadame," he said, "either good or bad looking, yet rathergood than bad looking."

"What! count," exclaimed the chevalier, "you who went intosuch ecstasies and uttered so many exclamations at the sightof her portrait."

De Guiche colored violently. Very fortunately his horse,which was slightly restive, enabled him by a sudden plungeto conceal his agitation. "What portrait!" he murmured,joining them again. The chevalier had not taken his eyes offhim.

"Yes, the portrait. Was not the miniature a good likeness?"

"I do not remember. I had forgotten the portrait; it quiteescaped my recollection."

"And yet it made a very marked impression upon you," saidthe chevalier.

"That is not unlikely."

"Is she witty, at all events?" inquired the duke.

"I believe so, my lord."

"Is M. de Buckingham witty, too?" said the chevalier.

"I do not know."

"My own opinion is, that he must be," replied the chevalier,"for he makes Madame laugh, and she seems to take no littlepleasure in his society, which never happens to a cleverwoman when in the company of a simpleton."

"Of course, then, he must be clever," said De Guiche,simply.

At this moment Raoul opportunely arrived, seeing how DeGuiche was pressed by his dangerous questioner, to whom headdressed a remark, and in that way changed theconversation. The entree was brilliant and joyous.

The king, in honor of his brother, had directed that thefestivities should be on a scale of the greatest possiblemagnificence. Madame and her mother alighted at the Louvre,where, during their exile, they had so gloomily submitted toobscurity, misery, and privations of every description. Thatpalace, which had been so inhospitable a residence for theunhappy daughter of Henry IV., the naked walls, the unevenfloorings, the ceilings matted with cobwebs, the vastdilapidated chimney-places, the cold hearths on which thecharity extended to them by parliament hardly permitted afire to glow, was completely altered in appearance. Therichest hangings and the thickest carpets, glisteningflagstones and pictures, with their richly gilded frames; inevery direction could be seen candelabra, mirrors, andfurniture and fittings of the most sumptuous character; inevery direction, also, were guards of the proudest militarybearing, with floating plumes, crowds of attendants andcourtiers in the ante-chambers and upon the staircases. Inthe courtyards, where the grass had formerly been allowed toluxuriate, as if the ungrateful Mazarin had thought it agood idea to let the Parisians perceive that solitude anddisorder were, with misery and despair, the fitaccompaniments of fallen monarchy, the immense courtyards,formerly silent and desolate, were now thronged withcourtiers whose horses were pacing and prancing to and fro.The carriages were filled with young and beautiful women,who awaited the opportunity of saluting, as she passed, thedaughter of that daughter of France who, during herwidowhood and exile, had sometimes gone without wood for herfire, and bread for her table, whom the meanest attendantsat the chateau had treated with indifference and contempt.And so, Madame Henrietta once more returned to the Louvre,with her heart more swollen with bitter recollections thanher daughter's, whose disposition was fickle and forgetful,with triumph and delight. She knew but too well thisbrilliant reception was paid to the happy mother of a kingrestored to his throne, a throne second to none in Europe,while the worse than indifferent reception she had beforemet with was paid to her, the daughter of Henry IV., as apunishment for having been unfortunate. After the princesseshad been installed in their apartments and had rested, thegentlemen who had formed their escort, having, in likemanner, recovered from their fatigue, they resumed theiraccustomed habits and occupations. Raoul began by settingoff to see his father, who had left for Blois. He then triedto see M. d'Artagnan, who, however, being engaged in theorganization of a military household for the king, could notbe found anywhere. Bragelonne next sought out De Guiche, butthe count was occupied in a long conference with his tailorsand with Manicamp, which consumed his whole time. With theDuke of Buckingham he fared still worse, for the duke waspurchasing horses after horses, diamonds upon diamonds. Hemonopolized every embroiderer, jeweler, and tailor thatParis could boast of. Between De Guiche and himself avigorous contest ensued, invariably a courteous one, inwhich, in order to insure success, the duke was ready tospend a million; while the Marechal de Grammont had onlyallowed his son sixty thousand francs. So Buckingham laughedand spent his money. Guiche groaned in despair, and wouldhave shown it more violently, had it not been for the adviceDe Bragelonne gave him.

"A million!" repeated De Guiche daily; "I must submit. Whywill not the marechal advance me a portion of my patrimony?"

"Because you would throw it away," said Raoul.

"What can that matter to him? If I am to die of it, I shalldie of it, and then I shall need nothing further."

"But what need is there to die?" said Raoul.

"I do not wish to be conquered in elegance by anEnglishman."

"My dear count," said Manicamp, "elegance is not a costlycommodity, it is only a very difficult accomplishment."

"Yes, but difficult things cost a good deal of money, and Ihave only got sixty thousand francs."

"A very embarrassing state of things, truly," said DeWardes; "even if you spent as much as Buckingham there isonly nine hundred and forty thousand francs difference."

"Where am I to find them?"

"Get into debt."

"I am in debt already."

"A greater reason for getting further."

Advice like this resulted in De Guiche becoming excited tosuch an extent that he committed extravagances whereBuckingham only incurred expenses. The rumor of thisextravagant profuseness delighted the hearts of all theshopkeepers in Paris, from the hotel of the Duke ofBuckingham to that of the Comte de Grammont nothing butmiracles was attempted. While all this was going on, Madamewas resting herself, and Bragelonne was engaged in writingto Mademoiselle de la Valliere. He had already dispatchedfour letters, and not an answer to any one of them had beenreceived, when, on the very morning fixed for the marriageceremony, which was to take place in the chapel at thePalais-Royal, Raoul, who was dressing, heard his valetannounce M. de Malicorne. "What can this Malicorne want withme?" thought Raoul; and then said to his valet, "Let himwait."

"It is a gentleman from Blois," said the valet.

"Admit him at once," said Raoul, eagerly.

Malicorne entered as brilliant as a star, and wearing asuperb sword at his side. After having saluted Raoul mostgracefully, he said: "M. de Bragelonne, I am the bearer of athousand compliments from a lady to you."

Raoul colored. "From a lady," said he, "from a lady ofBlois?"

"Yes, monsieur; from Mademoiselle de Montalais."

"Thank you, monsieur; I recollect you now," said Raoul. "Andwhat does Mademoiselle de Montalais require of me?"

Malicorne drew four letters from his pocket, which heoffered to Raoul.

"My own letters, is it possible?" he said, turning pale; "myletters, and the seals unbroken?"

"Monsieur, your letters did not find at Blois the person towhom they were addressed, and so they are now returned toyou."

"Mademoiselle de la Valliere has left Blois, then?"exclaimed Raoul.

"Eight days ago."

"Where is she, then?"

"In Paris."

"How was it known that these letters were from me?"

"Mademoiselle de Montalais recognized your handwriting andyour seal," said Malicorne.

Raoul colored and smiled. "Mademoiselle de Montalais isexceedingly amiable," he said; "she is always kind andcharming."

"Always, monsieur."

"Surely she could give me some precise information aboutMademoiselle de la Valliere. I never could find her in thisimmense city."

Malicorne drew another packet from his pocket.

"You may possibly find in this letter what you are anxiousto learn."

Raoul hurriedly broke the seal. The writing was that ofMademoiselle Aure, and inclosed were these words: - "Paris,Palais-Royal. The day of the nuptial blessing."

"What does this mean?" inquired Raoul of Malicorne; "youprobably know."

"I do, monsieur."

"For pity's sake, tell me, then."

"Impossible, monsieur."

"Why so?"

"Because Mademoiselle Aure has forbidden me to do so."

Raoul looked at his strange visitor, and remained silent; - "At least, tell me whether it is fortunate or unfortunate."

"That you will see."

"You are very severe in your reservations."

"Will you grant me a favor, monsieur?" said Malicorne.

"In exchange for that you refuse me?"

"Precisely."

"What is it?"

"I have the greatest desire to see the ceremony, and I haveno ticket to admit me, in spite of all the steps I havetaken to secure one. Could you get me admitted "

"Certainly."

"Do me this kindness, then, I entreat."

"Most willingly, monsieur; come with me."

"I am exceedingly indebted to you, monsieur," saidMalicorne.

"I thought you were a friend of M. de Manicamp."

"I am, monsieur; but this morning I was with him as he wasdressing, and I let a bottle of blacking fall over his newdress, and he flew at me sword in hand, so that I wasobliged to make my escape. That is the reason I could notask him for a ticket. He wanted to kill me."

"I can well believe it," laughed Raoul. "I know Manicamp iscapable of killing a man who has been unfortunate enough tocommit the crime you have to reproach yourself with, but Iwill repair the mischief as far as you are concerned. I willbut fasten my cloak, and shall then be ready to serve you,not only as a guide, but as your introducer, too."