He kept his word to us.  The King’s miniature and my four portraits were finished without hesitation or postponement; and Petitot also consented to copy, for his Majesty, a superb Christine of Sweden, a full-length picture, painted by Le Bourdon.  But at the final revocation of the Edict of Nantes, he thought his conscience, or rather his vanity, compromised, and quitted France, although the King offered to allow him a chaplain of his communion, and a dispensation from all the oaths, to Petitot himself, to Boyer, his brother-in-law, and the chaplain whom they had retained with them.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Lovers’ Vows.—­The Body-guards.—­Racine’s Phedre.—­The Pit.—­Allusions.—­The Duel.—­M. de Monclar.—­The Cowled Spy.—­He Escapes with a Fright.—­M. de Monclar in Jersey.—­Gratitude of the Marquise.—­Happy Memory.

Lovers, in the effervescence of their passion, exaggerate to themselves the strength and intensity of their sentiments.  The momentary, pleasure that this agreeable weakness causes them to feel, brings them, in spite of themselves, to promise a long duration of it, so that they swear eternal fidelity, a constancy, proof against all, two days after that one which shone on their most recent infidelity.  I had seen the King neglect and abandon the amiable La Valliere, and I listened to him none the less credulously and confidently when he said to me:  “Athenais, we have been created for each other:  if Heaven were suddenly to deprive me of the Queen, I would have your marriage dissolved, and, before the altar and the world, join your destiny, to mine.”

Full of these fantastic ideas, in which my, hope and desire and credulity were centred, I had accepted those body-guards of state who never left my carriage.  The poor Queen had murmured:  I had disdained her murmurs.  The public had manifested its disapproval:  I had hardened myself and fought against the insolent opinion of that public.  I could not renounce my chimera of royalty, based on innumerable probabilities, and I used my guards in anticipation, and as a preliminary.

One of them, one day, almost lost his life in following my carriage, which went along like a whirlwind.  His horse fell on the high road to Versailles; his thigh was broken, and his body horribly bruised.  I descended from my carriage to see after him.  I confided him, with the most impressive recommendations, to the physician or surgeon of Viroflai, who lavished on him his attentions, his skill and zeal, and who sent him back quite sound after a whole month of affectionate care.

The young Baron de Monclar (such was the name of this guard) thought himself happy in having merited my favour by this accident, and he remained sincerely and finally attached to me.

At the time of the temporary triumph of Mademoiselle de Fontanges, the spell which was over my eyes was dissipated.  The illusions of my youth were lost, and I saw, at last, the real distance which divided me from the steps of the throne.  The health of a still youthful Queen seemed to me as firm and unalterable then as it appeared to me weak and uncertain before.  The inconstancy of the monarch warned me of what might be still in store for me, and I resolved to withdraw myself, voluntarily and with prudence, within the just limits of my power.