The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [72]
“Speak, Madame; speak, queen,” said Buckingham. “The softness of your voice covers the hardness of your words. You speak of sacrilege, but the sacrilege is in the separation of hearts that God has formed for each other!”
“Milord,” cried the queen, “you forget that I have never told you I loved you.”
“But neither have you ever told me that you do not love me; and indeed, to say such words to me would be too great an ingratitude on Your Majesty’s part. For, tell me, where will you find a love like mine, a love which neither time, nor absence, nor despair can extinguish, a love that contents itself with a lost ribbon, a stray look, a dropped word?
“It was three years ago, Madame, that I saw you for the first time, and for three years I have loved you like this.
“Do you want me to tell you how you were dressed the first time I saw you? Do you want me to list each ornament of your toilette? Wait, I can still see you: you were sitting on cushions, in Spanish fashion; you had on a green satin gown with gold and silver embroideries; pendant sleeves tied back over your beautiful arms, over these admirable arms, with heavy diamonds; you had a fastened ruff, and a little bonnet on your head the color of your gown, and on the bonnet a heron’s feather.
“Oh! wait, wait, I close my eyes and see you as you were then; I open them again and see you as you are now, that is, a hundred times more beautiful still!”
“What madness!” murmured Anne d’Autriche, who did not have it in her to be vexed with the duke for preserving her portrait so well in his heart. “What madness to feed a useless passion with such memories!”
“And what do you wish me to live on? I have nothing but memories. They are my happiness, my treasure, my hope. Each time I see you, it is one more diamond that I shut up in the jewel case of my heart. This is the fourth that you have let drop and I have picked up; for in three years, Madame, I have seen you only four times: that first which I have just mentioned, the second in Mme de Chevreuse’s house, the third in the gardens of Amiens.”
“Duke,” the queen said, blushing, “do not speak of that evening.”
“Oh, on the contrary, let us speak of it, Madame, let us speak of it: it is the happiest and most radiant evening of my life. Do you remember what a beautiful night it was? The air was so sweet and fragrant, the sky such a deep blue and all spangled with stars! Ah! that time, Madame, I was able to be alone with you for a moment; that time you were ready to tell me all, the loneliness of your life, the sorrows of your heart. You were leaning on my arm, here, like this. Bending my head towards you, I felt your beautiful hair brush my cheek, and each time I felt it I shivered from head to foot. Oh, queen, queen! Oh, you do not know all the heavenly felicities, all the paradisal joys contained in such a moment! I would give my goods, my fortune, my glory, all the days of life that remain to me for such a moment and for a night like that! For on that night, Madame, on that night you loved me, I swear to you.”
“Milord, it is possible, yes, that the influence of the place, the charm of that beautiful night, the fascination of your gaze, that those thousand circumstances, finally, which sometimes come together to ruin a woman, had grouped themselves around me on that fatal evening. But you saw, Milord, how the queen came to rescue the weakening woman: at the first word you dared to speak, at the first boldness to which I had to respond, I called out.”
“Oh, yes, yes, that’s true! And another love than mine would have succumbed to that test; but my love came out of it more ardent and more eternal. You thought to flee me by returning to Paris, you thought I would not dare abandon the treasure