Mistress of the Revolution (28 page)

“I do not want to part with you in this manner, Belle. I will stay if you wish.”

“I do not wish it. Are you forgetting about that engagement of yours?”

“It can wait. Indeed I do not mind giving it up altogether if it upsets you. I will stay with you tonight.”

“Please go. I do not want you here. How many times must I ask you to leave?”

He frowned. “Do not speak to me in this manner, Belle. I pay for these lodgings and may stay here as long as I want.”

“True. Stay then.”

Villers’s last remark had opened my eyes. I ran to my bedroom, threw a mantle on my shoulders and put my diamond earrings in my pocket. I proceeded to the nursery, where Aimée was finishing her dinner in the company of Miss Howard. I told the governess that we had to go out and took Aimée’s hand in mine, putting my finger to my lips to intimate silence. She insisted on taking her doll Margaret and dressing her warmly on account of the hour. We quietly went down the service staircase. Once on the street, I hailed a hackney.

Half an hour later, we arrived at the Duchess’s mansion.

“Dear Belle,” she asked, “what is the matter? You look so upset.”

“I just left Villers.” I threw myself into her arms. “Will Your Grace allow us to spend the night here?”

“Of course, but what do you mean? Did you leave him for good? What happened?”

We sat on the sofa.

“I am tired of being nothing but one of his many whores.”

“What are you saying? He loves you. He is only acting like a fool.”

“If he loved me, he would have married me or at least kept his other liaisons discreet. He has pushed me, Madam, to the point where I no longer care for him.”

“What am I going to tell him if he comes here?”

“The truth. That I do not wish to ever see him again.”

She patted my hand. “Belle, please listen to me. Do not do anything that you would regret later. You are angry, and with good cause. Please have a glass of Madeira with me.”

The wine calmed me. While I was sipping it, the footman entered the room to announce the Count de Villers. I escaped to my old bedroom. The Duchess joined me half an hour later.

“You took a long time, Madam,” I said, “to tell him to go to hell.”

“I did not tell him that, Belle. I told him that you wanted him to go to hell. He said that he would have been here earlier, maybe even before your hackney arrived, but he had not realized at first that you had left. When he did, he ran directly to his stables, saddled his horse himself and rode here as fast as he could. He says that you may spend the night here, but he refuses to leave without seeing you to beg your forgiveness.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I
may
spend the night here! Indeed I am glad to have his permission. I do not wish to see him. If he will not leave of his own accord, Madam, have him thrown out by your lackeys.”

“I have never heard you speak in this manner. Nor have I ever seen him so shaken. Please relent, Belle, and go speak to him.”

“I could not bear to see him, Madam, but I will write him if it will help rid you of him without any scandal.”

I sat down to my desk and wrote the following note, which I handed to the Duchess:

The Duchess came back a few minutes later.

“He is gone,” she said. “He said that he did not want to upset you further and that he would send Manon here with your things. He asked for permission to come back tomorrow morning.”

“I will not see him, Madam. Of course, you should feel free to receive him. I know that you have always been fond of him.”

“I must admit it. I am very sad for him. How could he make you so angry?”

“He took a new mistress, a fresh one, fifteen years old. She is going to be to him what I was less than a year ago. He has tired of me. He never cared for me.”

“I have trouble believing it. I cannot imagine him desperately running after that new girl. He was wrong, very wrong to cause you pain in this manner, but I hope that he will earn your forgiveness.”

“You are too tender-hearted, dear Madam. Monsieur de Villers must be enjoying the company of his new conquest as we speak. Thinking of him is a waste of our time.”

Villers did call. The Duchess alone received him. This was repeated daily during the following weeks.

Before long I received a visit from Lauzun.

“Please do not tell me that you came here to plead Monsieur de Villers’s cause,” I said with some exasperation.

“Fear not, dearest friend,” he responded, smiling. “He has been extremely fortunate so far. Any other lady in your position would have repaid him in kind and given him a rival long ago. Instead you ran back to the Duchess and are leading the life of a saint. You have spared him, until now at least, the exquisite torture of jealousy, which he has done everything to deserve. If anything, Madam, you have been far too lenient.”

I could not help smiling back. “It never entered my mind to seek a new lover. Now that you mention it, Lauzun, that prospect does not appeal to me. I have no intention of going through the same trials twice.”

“I hope that Villers has not embittered you against all men. He has received from you nothing but tenderness, obedience and respect. You saved his life at the peril of your own. I have never heard an angry word pass your lips against him. Husbands in this town do not expect from their wives one hundredth of the affection you bestowed on that ingrate. If Madame de Lauzun had treated me in the same manner, I would not have been so inclined to seek my enjoyment elsewhere. And how has he thanked you? By making you unhappy, by giving you a new rival, and what a rival! A country girl with no wits, no allurements beyond youth and a tolerable freshness.”

I raised my eyebrow. “You seem acquainted with the young person in question.”

“I met her. Villers offered to send her back to her parents, a little late in my opinion, because she had already served him. She refused and has chosen to remain in Paris under the protection of the Duke d’Orléans.”

“And yours too maybe?”

“No. I do not like her, especially after the pain she unwittingly caused you.” He paused. “If you would only return my affections, Belle, I would not treat you in so shabby a manner. Need I tell you that time has not altered my feelings nor my hopes?”

“You are very kind, dear Lauzun. I thank you for your offers, but I would rather keep you as my friend.”

“Friendship does not preclude love. On the contrary, I have retained a great tenderness for most ladies who have honoured me with their favours in the past.”

“I would not presume to doubt it. Does Villers know of your visit here?”

“Oh yes, I told him of it. Why hide it from him? He raved like a lunatic. He even wanted to fight me. I had to remind him that it is his fault, not mine, if you no longer want to see him while you still honour me with your friendship. I also pointed out that a duel was the last thing to improve your opinion of him.”

Lauzun reached for my hand. “Dearest Belle,” he continued, “while you were his, I refrained, albeit with great regret, from pursuing my own designs. Now he has lost you. He had his chance, he squandered it. I would not have been such an idiot.”

“No one can tell what you would have done in his place. And in spite of my esteem for you, the reasons why I refused to entertain your suit last year are no less compelling to me now.”

“I understand. You are still upset over that wretch. It may be too early to address you. Please forgive me and let me hope.”

I laughed. “Lauzun, I must tell you that you are, with your unaccountable persistence, the only person who could amuse me under these circumstances.”

“Indeed, dearest friend, I am flattered to have been able to do so. You know the proverb, which is too crude to be repeated in full in front of a lady:
Woman who laughs…
”

The proverb was:
Femme qui rit est à demi au lit,
“Woman who laughs is halfway to bed.”

I would send Manon on walks with Aimée, whom I did not want to deprive of fresh air, to the nearby Place Royale. Even those outings had to be interrupted during the second half of September, for riots burst out in several districts. Even after order was restored, I did not stir from the Duchess’s house for fear of meeting Villers. My friends visited me. Emilie was radiant. She had been mistaken. Despite my remonstrances, she continued her liaison with Maury with the same imprudence as ever. How she could live in such danger was beyond my comprehension.

I also saw the Marquise de Bastide whenever she called on her mother. One day, while Manon stopped me outside the parlour door to discuss the details of a new dress for Aimée, I overheard a conversation that caught my attention.

“So, Madam, you are still saddled with the dear Baroness,” said the Marquise. “Speaking of her, whom do you think I saw last night at the Opera? Villers! He had the impudence to come to my box, uninvited of course, to ask whether you would be joining me. As if I could believe for a moment that he cared about you! I told him that I had not the honour of expecting you and asked whether he had heard that Madame de Peyre lived with you once again. He blanched and left without another word. He did not even return to his own box.” She laughed. “I never saw him so crestfallen. None of his usual arrogance, now that he has lost the pearl of his harem. His Belle, his prize, his favourite with the porcelain face, has run away!”

“He was here this morning. Poor man. He calls every day to talk about Belle. He cannot bear the loss of her.”

“I have to admit that she is delightful. Indeed I have nothing against her, except on your account. She is such a terrible imposition on you.”

“Dear,” said the Duchess, “please do not speak of Belle in this manner. You know that it pains me.”

“Oh, Madam, I too am very fond of her. I even find her naivete charming.” Madame de Bastide giggled. “She thought she would attach Villers, I daresay. I would bet you the millions the Queen lost at
pharaon
that the little red-haired simpleton believed he would marry her….”

I had no desire to hear more and, shaking Manon loose, pushed the door open. Madame de Bastide lost her countenance for only an instant before rising to kiss me on the cheek with the utmost friendliness. I bit my tongue not to remind her that my hair was not red, but
Venetian blonde
. Her malice almost made me pity Villers.

I knew that I could not remain forever with the Duchess, and missed the country air of Vaucelles. Emilie told me of a cottage for rent in the middle of Meudon Forest, a few miles from Paris. The place sounded inexpensive and delightful. Ever wary of the Duchess’s servants and their mercenary souls, I took a hackney to Meudon, accompanied by Aimée and Manon. We drove through the forest, where the leaves were turning to shades of russet and gold under the sun of the mild autumn day. I pointed out to my daughter a doe, only yards from the road. At last we arrived at a clearing. There stood the cottage, with a tiny garden in front and, to the side, a wooden table and two benches under an arbor covered with grapevines. We visited the house, which comprised four rooms, a kitchen and an attic. I could picture us very happy in that retreat.

I left Manon and Aimée to their survey of the attic, where a prior tenant had abandoned broken furniture and old trunks. I stepped through the back door to look at the kitchen garden, divided into neat vegetable squares. I froze when I saw Villers standing there, his hat in his hand.

After the first shock of recognition, I observed that he was altered. His cheeks were more hollow than before and his eyes ringed by dark circles. My anger gave way to pity. I suppressed this feeling by reflecting that these were signs not of sorrow but of the fatigues of his increased debauchery in my absence. I blushed, much to my vexation, but he did not seem much more at ease himself. I turned towards the house.

“Please, Belle,” he said, “do not run away.” Even his voice had changed. It had lost its former assurance.

I faced him. “Leave. You know that I do not want to see you. Your presence here only shows your lack of respect for me.”

“I need to speak to you, Belle. I could think of no other way.”

“Now you have spoiled this cottage for me. I will not take it if you are to pester me here.”

“I will not pester you again. I give you my word of honour that I will never return here if you hear me today.”

I walked to the arbor and sat on one of the benches, looking at my watch. “You have five minutes.” I pointed at the other bench across the table. He sat there. For a while he seemed to have trouble catching his breath and remained silent.

“Bear with me,” he said at last in an unsteady tone. “I am overwhelmed. Every day I have hoped to see you. And now that I am in your presence, I cannot find my words. May I kneel at your feet?”

“No. I will leave if you try to approach.”

“Please stay, Belle. I will not move. May I at least tell you of my dreams? In my dreams I kneel before you in silence, I rest my head on your lap. Then you reach for me, you hold me against your breast, you say that you forgive me. Could it happen someday?”

“No. As I wrote you, there is nothing to forgive.”

“You know that it is not true, Belle. I made light of the happiness you brought me. I hurt you over a girl who meant nothing to me.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Oh, Belle, I love you so.”

I felt myself flush with anger. “You love me? You took a new mistress because you love me? Do you expect me to believe such an absurdity?”

“It is absurd, I know. It took me time to understand why I acted in this manner. The truth is that I fell too much under your thrall for my own comfort. I tried to fight my feelings by keeping my old amusements, but that did not help. I did not stray while we were in Normandy last summer, Belle. Not once. I was angry with myself, and with you too. I dreaded to have my whole happiness depend on you. So I decided to take a new mistress upon our return to Paris.”

“And how did you think I would respond to the news?”

“For one thing, I never imagined that it would reach you so soon. I still do not know how it did. Perhaps I thought that you would accept her as you have had the patience to accept the others. It never occurred to me that you would leave me. I was so arrogant, so blind.” He sighed. “And I remained blind even after you left me. I was thunderstruck when I discovered your disappearance, but over the following days I convinced myself that you would accept to see me under the Duchess’s roof and listen to reason, meaning to me.”

He ran his hand over his eyes. “In time I realized that you did not show any signs of relenting. I came to understand that I had indeed lost you. Oh, Belle, it was as if the ground had opened beneath my feet. I know that Lauzun has been calling on you. Even the idea that he can see you, speak to you, touch your hand while I cannot is unbearable. I would like to kill him for that alone.” Villers paused. “I have even pictured you yielding to him to take your revenge.”

“I would never demean myself by becoming someone’s mistress only to spite you.”

Villers looked into my eyes. “Are you telling me that nothing ever happened between you and Lauzun?”

“Nothing. It is none of your concern anymore, but I know the pain of jealousy. I do not wish to inflict it needlessly on anyone, not even you.”

“Do you love him?”

“You have no right to ask.”

“I know, but please put an end to this part of my torment. Do you love him?”

I looked away. “No, I do not.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Thank you, Belle. You are the soul of kindness. You could have punished me by letting me believe the worst.” He paused. “Oh, Belle, you give me hope. More hope than I had allowed myself in weeks. Even if there is nothing left of the feelings you had for me, all may not be lost. I can become worthy of you. My conduct will change; it has changed already. I have not touched a woman since that horrible night when you left me. I already relinquished all rights to my
little house
, without any regret. I no longer have any other mistresses, nor will there be any in the future.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Whatever my faults, have I ever breached a promise to you? And I know what I want now. If I were so fortunate as to secure your forgiveness, I would not risk losing you again. Losing you is as close to hell as I can imagine. The only thing that still matters to me is to call on the Duchess every day. I talk of you with her, and I can feel your presence. I know that you are there, only a few rooms away, so close and yet unreachable. I kept one of your chemises, Belle. I could not bring myself to send it to you with the rest of your things. It still smells of you, of your fragrance. I sleep with it every night, or rather I go to bed with it because I can no longer sleep. It drives me insane because it reminds me so vividly of you. Yet it is better than not having any memento of you with me. Oh, Belle, I miss you so.”

“You have brought all of this misery upon yourself.”

His eyes were red. He was biting his upper lip, his chin quivering. “True. I deserve every part of this punishment, harsh as it is. I am not appealing to your sense of justice, I am begging for mercy. Come back to me, Belle, if only out of pity. I should be able to inspire at least that feeling.”

Now tears were rolling down his cheeks. I had never seen a man weep and was too embarrassed to say a word.

“I will do everything to regain your affections,” he continued in a halting voice. “You may put any conditions upon your return. I will agree to anything. I disgust you, I know. I will stay away from your bed. I will sleep on a couch, on the floor, in another room. Please come back.”

I opened my mouth, more in dismay than to speak.

“Oh, Belle, you are going to say no. Wait. Do not say anything.”

I kept silent.

“At least allow me to see you,” he continued. “Come and ride with me in Vaucelles, as you used to do. Or if you do not want to be alone with me, let me speak to you under the Duchess’s roof, in her presence. Please, Belle. Anything.”

He hid his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaken by muffled sobs. I found this sight unbearable. I had to put an end to the conversation.

“You may call on the Duchess tomorrow morning,” I said. “I will see you then. You must leave now.”

Suddenly, with a look of violent emotion on his face, he rose. I recoiled at the idea of the scene that would follow if I let him move closer. I raised my hand.

“No,” I said. “Leave now.”

He seemed to make an effort to regain his composure. Then, after one long look at me, he bowed and turned away. I watched him walk slowly towards the gate.

I hurried back to the cottage. Fortunately Villers’s visit had gone unnoticed by Aimée, who was still exploring the treasures of the attic. She had often asked in a worried tone whether he had died like her papa. I hastened our return to Paris. The cottage did not seem so appealing to me now.

I went to bed that night painfully uncertain of my feelings. The Duchess had told me that Villers was distraught over our separation, but the intensity of his sorrow had shocked me. Perhaps I still cared for him. Yet I regretted my promise. I did not wish to see him the next day.

I received him in the presence of the Duchess. A more awkward visit cannot be imagined. Neither he nor I had anything to say. After a few obligatory sentences, he was content to look at me. I could feel his gaze fixed upon me. I avoided his eye by staring out the window at the creeping vines, which had now turned bright red on the back wall of the garden. The poor Duchess had to bear unaided the burden of the conversation. After ten minutes of that torture, she seemed to have run out of topics, I could not think of any and Villers still gave no signs of leaving. I lost patience and put an end to everyone’s misery by rising.

“Your Grace will remember that we promised to call on Madame de Bastide,” I said.

“Oh yes, dear. My memory is not what it used to be. You must excuse us, Villers.”

He had to rise but still was not taking his leave.

“Would Your Grace…,” he said at last. His voice failed him. He cleared his throat. “Would Your Grace, with Madame de Peyre and her daughter, do me the honour of sharing my luncheon on Tuesday at Vaucelles?”

“Well, this is kind of you. Belle, do you remember whether we have any engagement on that day?”

I turned away and made no response. So was his invitation accepted.

Lauzun, either because he was not to be discouraged or because he valued my friendship as much as he said, would still visit me. He was no longer called by that name, though I continued to use it. His uncle the Marshal Duke de Biron had died and left him his title and fortune.

“In addition,” I told the Duchess, “he will be appointed Colonel of the French Guards in replacement of the late Marshal.”

“Unfortunately not. Everything seemed to make Lauzun, or the Duke de Biron, as we should call him now, the obvious choice: his kinship with the Marshal, his distinguished career during the American war, his popularity with the troops. This is not to be, however. I heard this morning that the Duke du Châtelet has already been appointed Colonel of the French Guards. I need not tell you, Belle, from what quarter that blow came. The Queen herself opposed Lauzun’s appointment. She must still be incensed over what she perceived as his desertion of her years ago. It is an affront of the first gravity to our friend, and a mistake too. What an idea to pick a brute like the Duke du Châtelet!”

Villers repeated the previous year’s courtship, only sadder and laden with memories of happy and unhappy times. During a visit to Vaucelles on a foggy December afternoon, he helped me into the saddle and adjusted my foot in the stirrup. He gently uncovered my ankle. He caressed it through the silk stocking and pressed his lips to it. Still holding it, he contemplated it for a long time. At last he raised his eyes to my face.

“Have mercy, Belle,” he said. “Please come back to me.”

My anger had long subsided. It had been replaced by pity and some return of the affection I had felt for him. I relented.

When I arrived at my lodgings after an absence of three months, I was startled to find the place full of fresh flowers in spite of the late season. The hot houses of Vaucelles must have been looted to achieve such a display. The paneling in the drawing room had been painted blue and white, in the manner of the English porcelains I liked. The dining parlour was freshly wallpapered in a
trompe l’œil
motif of windows overlooking Roman ruins and the Mediterranean Sea. I was reminded of the plans Villers and I had once made to travel to Italy to visit such sights. In my bedroom the drapes, upholstery and bed curtains were now of white silk embroidered with butterflies and flowers in various shades of bright pink. Villers had remembered that it was my favourite colour. A red leather case waited for me on the dressing table. I removed my glove and let my fingertips brush against it before I opened it. It contained seven strands of the most beautiful pearls.

Only whispered expressions of surprise passed my lips. I turned towards Villers. He was silent, gazing at me in a shy manner, as if unsure of my approval. That moved me more than any gift, more than all of his preparations for my return. I held out my hand to him. He dropped to his knees to kiss it.

Within a week of my return to Rue Saint-Dominique, Villers was restored to all of his former privileges, which he resumed with a frightening ardor. Perhaps he had not lied when he had said that he had shunned female company during my absence.