Devil’s Dance
~ or ~
Louise de La Vallière
By Alexandre Dumas
Edited and Translated by Lawrence Ellsworth
In Last Week’s Episode
Under the Royal Oak in the park at Fontainebleau, the Comte de Guiche confessed to Raoul de Bragelonne his mad, undying love for Madame, Princess Henrietta. Unbeknownst to them both, Madame was eavesdropping on their conversation, confronted de Guiche afterward, and convinced him that she was willing to accept his love. In secret, of course.
Chapter XXVI
Envelopes and Letters
While de Guiche’s affairs were being unexpectedly mended, Raoul, who had rightly understood Madame’s invitation to be a dismissal, had withdrawn so as not to interfere in their conversation and had rejoined the maids of honor who were wandering the gardens.
Meanwhile, the Chevalier de Lorraine, who’d returned to his room, read with surprise the letter from de Wardes, which, dictated to his valet, told of the sword thrust he’d received in Calais and all the events that led up to it, with the invitation to recount the adventure to de Guiche and Monsieur with whatever slant would make it most disagreeable to them. De Wardes especially emphasized to the chevalier the depth of Buckingham’s passion for Madame, and ended his letter by stating his belief that she felt the same about Buckingham, though de Wardes was no longer with him.
The chevalier snorted as he read this; de Wardes, as we have seen, was far behind the times. He tossed the letter onto a table and said disdainfully, “Really, it’s quite incredible. This de Wardes is a lad of spirit but not much sense, and this just shows how quickly one loses their edge out in the provinces. Devil take the idiot for not writing me something useful instead of this claptrap! If I hadn’t wasted my time reading this ridiculous letter, I could have been out in the gardens pursuing an intrigue that could compromise a woman of rank. A story like that could have diverted Monsieur for several days, which is far better than foolish swordplay.” He looked at his watch. “And now it’s too late. It’s past one o’clock, and everyone must have returned to the king to pay their respects at the end of the evening, unless by chance….”
As if in an appeal to his lucky star, the chevalier stepped to his window, which looked out upon a lonely stretch of the gardens. Immediately, as if at the summons of an evil genie, he saw, returning to the château in the company of a man, a lady dressed in the same mantle of rich, dark silk he’d noticed half an hour before.
“Well, God blind me, as our friend Buckingham says!” he laughed, clapping his hands. “There is my intrigue.” And he hurried out and down the steps in hopes of arriving in the courtyard in time to recognize the woman in the mantle and her companion.
Coming out the door into the little courtyard he nearly collided with Madame, whose radiant face glowed with secrets under the hood of the mantle that sheltered but didn’t conceal it. Unfortunately, Madame was alone.
The chevalier realized that, since he’d seen her with a gentleman only moments before, that gentleman couldn’t have gone far. So, he paused only long enough to give the bare minimum of a greeting to the princess while stepping aside to let her pass, which she did with the speed of a woman who hopes not to be recognized. When the chevalier saw that she was too preoccupied with her own affairs to care about him, he rushed down into the garden, looking in every direction and as far as he could see.
He was barely in time: the gentleman who’d accompanied Madame was just visible turning the corner around one of the château’s wings, about to disappear. There wasn’t a moment to lose; the chevalier raced after the gentleman, though he had to slow as he approached the corner so as not to appear to be in pursuit as he rounded it, and as a result the stranger was nowhere to be seen when he got there. However, since the man he was after had been walking slowly as if in thought, his head bowed in sorrow or happiness, unless he vanished through a doorway the chevalier was bound to catch up with him.
And he surely would have caught him if he hadn’t nearly run into two other men who were coming in the opposite direction. The chevalier was about to rudely thrust past this inconvenient pair when he recognized one of them as the Superintendent of Finances. Fouquet was accompanied by someone whom the chevalier now saw for the first time: His Excellency the Bishop of Vannes.
Pulled up short by the importance of the person he’d almost collided with, and forced by propriety to make excuses where he’d expected to deliver curses, the chevalier took a step back. Monsieur Fouquet was, if not liked, at least respected by everyone, even the king, to whom he was more enemy than friend, so he bowed to the minister, who replied with pleasant politeness, since the gentleman had clearly rushed upon him by accident rather than on purpose. Recognizing the Chevalier de Lorraine, he paid him the compliment of a greeting, and the chevalier had to respond in kind.
Though the exchange was brief, the chevalier watched with fury as the unknown gentleman he’d been pursuing continued on his way and disappeared into the darkness. But there was no help for it, so the chevalier resigned himself to needling Monsieur Fouquet. “How sad, Monsieur, that you arrive so late,” he said. “Your absence was noticed, I’m sorry to say, and even Monsieur mentioned his surprise that, though invited by the king, you failed to appear.”
“The thing was simply impossible, Chevalier, though I came as soon as I could.”
“Paris is quiet?”
“Perfectly so. Paris has adjusted to the new tax.”
“Ah! I understand now why you had to make sure of that before joining us in our celebration.”
“I’m still later than I’d like. Allow me to inquire, Monsieur, if the king is outside or within the château, and if I can still catch him tonight or must wait till tomorrow.”
“No one has seen the king for the last half hour or so,” said the chevalier.
“Might he be at Madame’s?” asked Fouquet.
“I think not, since I just met Madame returning up the small staircase—unless that gentleman you just passed happened to be the king himself…?”
And the chevalier held his breath, hoping to hear the name of the man he’d pursued.
But Fouquet, whether he’d recognized de Guiche or not, merely contented himself with replying, “No, Monsieur, it wasn’t him.”
The chevalier, disappointed, bowed respectfully, taking the opportunity to glance around as he did so, and seeing a nearby group of gentlemen gathered around Monsieur Colbert, said to the superintendent, “There, Monsieur, under the trees, is someone who can give you better information than I.”
“Who?” asked Fouquet, whose weak eyesight couldn’t penetrate the shadows.
“Monsieur Colbert,” replied the chevalier.
“Ah, very good. That person speaking to the men carrying torches, is that Monsieur Colbert?”
“Himself. He’s giving his orders for tomorrow to the lighting artificers.”
“Thank you, Monsieur.” And Fouquet nodded in dismissal, indicating he’d learned everything he wanted to know. The chevalier, who’d learned nothing, withdrew with a deep bow.
As soon as he was gone, Fouquet frowned and fell into a deep reverie. Aramis regarded him for a moment with a look of compassion mixed with sadness. “I see that just hearing that man’s name wounds you,” he said. “Mere moments ago, you were happy and triumphant, and now you’re drooping like a melancholy ghost. Come, Monsieur, don’t you believe in your lucky star?”
“No,” replied Fouquet sadly.
“Why not?”
“Precisely because I was too full of happiness,” he said in a shaky voice. “You, my dear d’Herblay, who are so learned, you must have heard of Polycrates, the tyrant of Samos, who was brought down for being too fortunate.53 What treasure can I throw into the sea to turn away the evil fate to come? No, I say again, I’m too happy for my own good, so happy that I have no more ambition. You know my motto, Quo non ascendam?54 I’ve ascended so high that there’s no direction for me but down. It’s impossible for me to believe in a lucky star that could rise any higher than it already has.”
Aramis smiled, fixing his warm and persuasive gaze upon Fouquet. “If I knew the source of your happiness,” he said, “I might stave off the ruin you fear. But you can consider me a reliable friend regardless, at your side through fortune or misfortune. That you allow me such a privilege is already an immense boon, but it does give me the right to ask you to confide your happiness to me so I can be part of it, which would mean more to me than happiness of my own.”
“My dear Prelate,” said Fouquet, laughing, “my secret happiness is too profane for me to entrust it to a bishop, no matter how worldly he may be.”
“Hmf. How about in confession?”
“Oh, I’d blush red with shame if you were my confessor!” Fouquet sighed and looked away to hide his slight smile.
Aramis regarded him sideways with a smile of his own. “Discretion,” he said, “is indeed a great virtue.”
“Hush!” said Fouquet. “That venomous snake has recognized me and is approaching.”
“Colbert?”
“Yes. Withdraw, my dear d’Herblay; I don’t want this prig to see you with me, he’ll hold it against you.”
“Why should I care if he doesn’t like me?” said Aramis, shaking Fouquet’s hand. “Don’t I have you for a friend?”
“You do—but maybe I won’t always be there,” said Fouquet sadly.
“On that day, if it ever comes, I’ll have to find a way to manage without your friendship and brave the dislike of Monsieur Colbert,” said Aramis calmly. “But tell me, dear Monsieur Fouquet, instead of wasting time with this prig, as you call him, in pointless argument, why not go seek out the king, or at least Madame?”
“Madame?” said the superintendent, distracted from dwelling on his recent happiness. “Ah, yes, Madame. Of course.”
“Remember the reports we’ve received about Madame being in the height of favor for the last few days,” said Aramis. “It’s critical to your policy, and our plans, that you diligently pay court to His Majesty’s favorites. That’s how we’ll counter the rising authority of Monsieur Colbert. Make Madame your ally as soon as you can.”
“But can you really be sure that it’s on her that the king is fixated now?” said Fouquet.
“If that’s changed, it would have to have been since this morning. You know I have my network of informers.”
“Then pay court to her I shall, and I have the perfect introduction: a magnificent pair of antique cameos set with diamonds.”
“I’ve seen them; nothing could be richer or more royal.”
They were interrupted at that moment by a lackey escorting a courier. “For Monsieur le Surintendant,” said the courier loudly, presenting a letter to Fouquet. “And for Monseigneur the Bishop of Vannes,” he said more quietly, delivering a letter to Aramis.
The lackey, who carried a torch, placed himself between the superintendent and the bishop so that both could read at the same time.
When he saw the fine, elegant handwriting of the address on his envelope, Fouquet started with joy. Only those who have loved will understand his worry at first and his joy that followed. He eagerly opened the envelope, which contained a letter with only these words: It has been an hour since I left you, and thus a century since I told you, ‘I love you.’ That was all.
Madame de Bellière had, in fact, left Fouquet only an hour before after having spent the previous two days with him, and to make sure her memory didn’t fade from the heart she already missed, she had sent this urgent letter. Fouquet kissed the letter and paid the lackey for it with a handful of gold.
As for Aramis, it was with more cool consideration that he read his letter, which informed him of the following: The king was struck this evening with strange news: a lady loves him. He discovered this by accident when eavesdropping on a conversation between this lady and her companions. The king has been swept away by this new fancy. The lady’s name is Mademoiselle de La Vallière, and she is just pretty enough that this caprice could become a grand passion. Beware of Mademoiselle de La Vallière.
Not a word about Madame.
Aramis slowly folded the note and slipped it into a pocket. As for Fouquet, he was still savoring his letter’s delicate scent. “Monseigneur!” said Aramis, touching Fouquet’s arm.
“Eh?” replied the latter.
“I have a thought. Do you know a young woman named La Vallière?”
“My faith, no!”
“Think carefully.”
“Hmm. Yes! I think she’s one of Madame’s maids of honor.”
“That must be her.”
“Well?”
“Well! Monseigneur, it’s that young woman to whom you must pay your respects this evening.”
“What? Why is that?”
“Moreover, it’s she who must receive your gift of those jeweled cameos.”
“Come, now!”
“You know, Monseigneur, that I always give you good advice.”
“But this is so unexpected….”
“It’s my business to know these things. Pay your court to this little La Vallière, Monseigneur. I’ll vouch for it to Madame de Bellière that it’s entirely a political courtship.”
“What are you saying, my friend?” said Fouquet in surprise. “And whose name did you just dare to mention?”
“A name that should convince you, Monsieur le Surintendant, that if I know so much about your affairs, I’m equally well informed about others. Pay your respectful court to this little La Vallière.”
“I’m happy to pay court to anyone you like,” said Fouquet, a smile on his lips and heaven in his heart.
“Come back down to earth, Traveler of the Seventh Heaven, and quickly,” said Aramis. “Here comes Monsieur Colbert. And he’s collected even more adherents while we were reading our letters—he’s surrounded by praise and congratulations, definitely a man on the way up.”
In fact, the courtiers still in the gardens were now gathered around Colbert, all vying to congratulate him on his arrangements for the festivities until he was about to burst from pride. Fouquet smiled and said, “If La Fontaine were here, what a golden opportunity this would be for him to recount the fable of the Frog who wanted to be as big as the Ox!”55
Colbert arrived in a dazzling circle of torchlight. Fouquet awaited him silently and with an attitude of mild derision.
Colbert was smiling as well; he’d been sizing up his enemy for a quarter of an hour and approached with slow deliberation. His smile bespoke hostile intentions. “Watch out!” whispered Aramis to the superintendent. “This scoundrel is going to ask you for yet more millions to pay for his fireworks and colored lights.”
Colbert bowed to the minister with feigned respect. Fouquet tilted his head slightly in response. “Well, Monseigneur!” asked Colbert. “What do you think? Is our homage to royalty tasteful and proper?”
“In perfect taste,” replied Fouquet, the mockery that edged his words barely perceptible.
“It’s good of you to say so,” replied Colbert nastily. “We do the best we can, we royal servants, but we know our efforts here at Fontainebleau can’t match the splendor of your Vaux-le-Vicomte.”56
“True,” replied Fouquet coolly, skillfully underplaying his role and thereby dominating all the other actors in the scene.
“What would you have, Monseigneur?” continued Colbert. “We can use only what resources are available.”
Fouquet made a gesture of agreement.
“But it would be worthy of your magnificence, Monseigneur,” continued Colbert, “if you were to offer His Majesty a fête in your gardens, those marvelous gardens that cost you sixty million.”
“Seventy-two,” said Fouquet.
“All the more reason,” said Colbert. “Then we would see real magnificence.”
“But do you think, Monsieur,” said Fouquet, “that His Majesty would deign to accept my invitation?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a moment,” said Colbert eagerly. “In fact, I think I can guarantee it.”
“How very kind of you,” said Fouquet. “You guarantee it, do you?”
“Yes, Monseigneur, absolutely.”
“Then I will consider it,” said Fouquet.
“Accept, accept,” whispered Aramis urgently.
“You must consider it?” repeated Colbert.
“Yes,” Fouquet replied, “only so long as it takes to decide when it would be best to offer the king my invitation.”
“Why, tonight, Monseigneur. Tonight!”
“Very well,” said the superintendent. “Messieurs, I would like to extend my invitations to you as well, but you know that wherever the king goes, the king is at home, so further invitations are up to His Majesty.”
There was a happy murmur in the crowd gathered round. Fouquet bowed and took his leave.
“Haughty wretch!” said Colbert under his breath. “You accept, though you know it will cost you ten million to do it.”
“You have ruined me,” said Fouquet to Aramis in a low voice.
“I have saved you,” replied the latter, as Fouquet climbed the stairs to the royal apartments and asked if the king was still receiving visitors.
Notes on the Text of Devil’s Dance
53. POLYCRATES, THE TYRANT OF SAMOS, WHO WAS BROUGHT DOWN FOR BEING TOO FORTUNATE: Herodotus told a fable about Polycrates, who was so successful he was advised to throw away the thing he valued most to avoid being struck down for hubris. The tyrant tossed a precious jeweled ring into the sea, where it was swallowed by a fish that was caught by a fisherman and served back to Polycrates by his cooks.
54. QUO NON ASCENDAM: Roughly, “How high might I climb?”
55. THE FABLE OF THE FROG WHO WANTED TO BE AS BIG AS THE OX: La Fontaine wrote a version of the cautionary fable about the folly of trying to be what one is not, a tale that goes back at least to Æsop.
56. VAUX-LE-VICOMTE: The Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte was the magnificent country estate Monsieur Fouquet built by helping himself to the public funds, employing the greatest French artists of the time. In many ways it was the inspiration for Louis XIV’s renovation and expansion of Versailles. The reader will see a lot of Vaux in the final two volumes of the Musketeers Cycle, Shadow of the Bastille and The Man in the Iron Mask.
ALEXANDRE DUMAS’ MUSKETEERS CYCLE
Devil’s Dance is part of a series. Everyone has heard of The Three Musketeers and its heroes d’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, but what’s less well known nowadays is that Dumas followed up his greatest novel with a series of sequels that are just as great. Your Cheerful Editor Lawrence Ellsworth has been compiling all-new contemporary translations of these novels, and the entire series, when complete, will fill nine volumes:
- The Three Musketeers, Book One
- The Red Sphinx, Book Two
- Twenty Years After, Book Three
- Blood Royal, Book Four
- Between Two Kings, Book Five
- Court of Daggers, Book Six
- Devil’s Dance, Book Seven
- Shadow of the Bastille, Book Eight
- The Man in the Iron Mask, Book Nine
The first six volumes are already in print, one to five from Pegasus Books, while Book Six, Court of Daggers, is available as an independent publication. Each week now brings a new episode in the serialization of Book Seven, Devil’s Dance. If you’re interested in more of my work, you can find out about it at swashbucklingadventure.net. So welcome, fellow cavaliers, and enjoy the ride!
—Lawrence Ellsworth
Copyright © 2023 Lawrence Schick. All rights reserved.