Margaret Horton Potter

“ Far beyond the garden, rising like two cloud-shadows through the luminous night, were the great tobacco barns. Slave-cabins, still-house, kitchen, well-sweep, all were changed, by the mysterious power of night, to things of natural beauty. And Deborah was changed. Her dreams had been of courts and palaces, of dimly resplendent royal figures, among which she, and Charles Fairfield, and Claude de Mailly moved in inexplicable near-relationship. She, Deborah Travis, had just been crowned Queen of all Europe by the hand of Majesty, with her cousin Virginia's pearls. ”

“ It was Boucher's portrait of Marie Anne de Mailly-Nesle, Marquise de la Tournelle, Duchesse de Châteauroux. She looked down upon him now in that calmly superb manner which she had used only this morning; the manner that the Court had raved over, that women vainly strove to imitate, that had conquered the indifference of a king. And as Claude de Mailly gazed, his own air, shamed perhaps by that of the woman, fell from him, as a sheet might fall from a statue. In one instant he was a different thing. He had become an individual; a man with a strong mentality of his own. ”

“ All about that room, for miles in the blackness, the great city lay sleeping through the hour before dawn. The lights of the Hôtel de Ville were out. King and valet alike rested. Mme. d'Etioles and Marie Leczinska had forgotten triumph and trouble. Richelieu, devil and monk, lay abed like an honest man. And Deborah de Mailly, under her canopy, dreamed, in the Versailles apartment, of the fresh quiet of her room at Trevor Manor, the golden dawn over the Chesapeake, and the lapping of the river against the banks that were lined with drooping willows and peach-trees. ”

“ Deborah, arrayed in her brocade, her rebellious hair fastened stiffly in place with a thousand pins, the enormous hoops of her overdress annoying her as much as possible, patches and powder upon her face and hair, with the customary rouge on her cheeks, stood beside Victorine de Coigny, the only new-comer with whom she did not feel ill at ease. Mesdames de Mirepoix, Rohan, and Châtelet stared at her unceasingly, found her dress in good style, and her face, on the whole, not bad. L'Abbé de Bernis, who, to Henri's fruitless rage, had accompanied Victorine hither, looked upon Deborah approvingly. ”

“ You and de Coigny should come to tell me all the news; I would invite Monsieur le Gouverneur, and, possibly, my turn-key to dine, and we should all be merry with feasting and fasting by turns. You see, Henri, my spirit will not be shaken till the final blow. This room is like a furnace. When, dear Lord Doleful, are you going to rise?"
"At once, Claude. My friend, your buoyancy is worth rubies. Even now I am mourning for you more than you for yourself. How are you able to move hand or foot?"
"Come, you are aping d'Epernon. You make a bad lover. ”

“ Deborah watched him in silence, her feeling of uneasiness growing.
"What is it?" he repeated, smiling.
"It is the Amanita muscaria—poison mushrooms, that we use sometimes in Maryland for fly-poison."
"And how do they kill?"
"Monsieur, will you not put them up? I think it is time to go."
"Instantly, madame; but—tell me first how they kill."
He was regarding her in such apparent amusement that, for the moment, she was nettled by the suspicion of mockery. "They are now five months old—what I have there. But two of them would kill a grown man to-day. ”

“ D'Argenson bowed.
Claude slowly drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his lips with it. "May God damn to hell the King of France! All the armies in his kingdom shall not drive me from it till I've got back my wife!"
"Claude! Claude! Come away!" said Henri, sharply.
"No. Not till I have Deborah to go with me."
"Monsieur—monsieur, that is not possible," whispered d'Argenson, anxiously. "Mme. de Mailly will be granted her choice. She will not be in any way forced. His Majesty will merely offer." ”

“ What are you dreaming of? We should die. No. Some time Henri—some time, soon, now, when Versailles has become unbearable to me, I shall sell my ancestral possessions in la belle France, and with the proceeds I will sail away, over seas, to King George's colonies, perhaps; and there take up my abode among the good colonials, in the honorable capacity of tobacco-planter; a king in my own right, my plantation the kingdom, and the serfs all of ebony hue; with an overseer for intimate, and—not a little apartment in all my red brick palace. ”

“ At home there was no longer any necessity for them to linger in an antechamber before retiring, for the sake of being alone together. After eleven at night they had their apartment to themselves. But, oddly enough, they now never saw each other alone. Deborah was occupied, was too tired, was not in the mood—any of a thousand things. Claude wondered, and was disappointed, but never pressed the point. Not once did it occur to him to connect her present impenetrability with the singular crying-spell on Monday evening, after her afternoon alone with Victorine de Coigny. ”

“ Mme. de Châteauroux, pelissed, hooded, and muffed in crimson velvet and sables, sat pensively at her window, awaiting the arrival of her sleigh. She rose in unfeigned agitation at the entrance of Claude and her brother.
"Ah, Monsieur le Comte! How rash you are! You compromise me; you—you make your own case infinitely worse. Henri, how could you have permitted him to come?"
"Madame!" cried Claude, beseechingly, but the Marquis interrupted.
"The King, Anne, has left Marly. You—"
"I know. I know. Whom did you see in the hallway as you came here? Any one?" ”

“ On the morning of Thursday, January 21st, when a feeble ray of sunlight first straggled into the window of Claude's room on the Avenue de St. Cloud, in the town of Versailles, it fell upon an early company of four men engaged in an unwonted occupation. Upon the canopied bed, half dressed, unwigged, powderless, sat Claude, directing, with some animation, the movements of two men, his own valet and Henri's, one of whom stood before an oaken wardrobe, while the other knelt upon the floor beside a travelling coffer of brown hide, studded with brass nails. ”

“ From the salon beyond came a subdued murmur of conversation; and Deborah, as soon as a servant had taken her cloak, passed into it. Claude, however, was detained by M. de Pont-de-Vesle, who seized him by the coat-lapel.
"My dear Count—what is the world here for? Why is his Majesty in the next room there? Why do we wait? What is the news?"
"You speak like a catechism, monsieur. How should I know the news?"
"Humph! You are—a de Mailly."
"Confessed! What does it betoken?" asked Claude, smiling.
"These rumors—that la Châteauroux is on her way back to Versailles—are they true?" ”

“ Stop, Claude! Why, would you finish our colloquy in a word? We have much time before us. To hurry is ungraceful."
He flushed and laughed at the same time. Happily at that moment Antoinette and Fouchelet, the valet, entered together, the man bearing their repast upon a silver tray. While the dishes were being set out madame moved leisurely over to her toilet-table for a fan, and Claude sat silent till they were alone again.
"And now, my Claude, you will pledge me in a glass of this wine of Champagne. See—to thee, and me, and our house, Claude! Come—drink!" ”

“ Do we look to Olympus or—Cythera?" demanded Maurepas, slyly.
The King did not at once reply. Finally, with a smile peculiar to himself, he glanced at his favorite. "You shall choose the toast, du Plessis. Jove or Venus?"
Richelieu, ignorant of a cause, was at a loss to read the subtlety. "Venus, Sire," he replied, raising a glass to the candle-light before he drank.
"Merely the goddess in abstract?" murmured de Sauvré. "Surely her present living counterpart were better worthy the wine."
"Sire, will you not christen the toast?"
"Is it necessary? There is but one." ”

“ I, de Mailly."
Richelieu laughed heartily. "Pretty—pretty, Claude! I must enter it in the unauthenticated register at Mme. Doublet's to-morrow! Why do you not lay the matter thus before Mme. de Châteauroux herself?"
"Ah, monsieur, I think you understand her even less than I. I do not dare address her as my position admits. My cousin cannot be more proud of our family than am I; and yet—and yet—"
In the darkness Louis Armand François du Plessis de Fronsac de Richelieu, from strong force of habit, snapped his fingers. "Afraid of a woman! Truly, we have schooled you well, Claude!" ”

“ Twilight mingled with the dark. From many windows glimmered forth the city lights, and madame finally swallowed a cup of chocolate and sought her rest. Richelieu was left to watch alone, in the darkness, by the King.
Louis XV. slept, now and then restless with fever, but for the most part quietly. The Duke sat in his chair by the window, the sultry night air stealing in to him, not asleep, but thinking of many things, of much history known to him alone of Court, of camp, of street, and of the lives of real men. All men, beneath their masks of manners, are very real! ”

“ The muscles of his body grew rigid with contraction beneath her grasp. Sambo clutched and opened his hands wildly in the air. New sweat poured out upon his cold flesh, his eyes started from their sockets, and Chloe, catching sight of him, screamed with despair. At this moment Madam Trevor, bearing those things which the doctor had commanded, re-entered the cabin. While Carroll worked over Sambo's body, Deborah suddenly left her place, turned blindly about and ran out of the cabin through the terror-stricken group at the door, and across the sunny yard to the still-room. ”

“ He accepted the invitation readily enough, seated himself at the little table, and began an attack on Mouthier's patties with such good-will that Mme. de Coigny held up her hands.
"Ciel, Monsieur le Comte! Do you protest that you are a lover, with such an appetite? 'Tis more worthy the Court of Miracles!"
Claude put down his tea. "Ah, madame—the Court of Miracles! Do you know that for the last days I have heard nothing on every side but conversations about the last experiment of the Marquise de Coigny? May I ask if it proved a really successful remedy for your deplorable ennui?" ”

“ This, as history would have it, was a person of somewhat humbler birth than Deborah herself, styled in the beginning Jeanne Poisson, later wedded to solid Lenormand d'Etioles, and at some day now neither dim nor distant to become that Marquise de Pompadour whom an Empress of Austria should salute as an equal. Deborah mused for some time on this unknown lady, ate her solitary dinner without appetite, and lay on her salon sofa for two hours more, thinking unhappily of Maryland, before Julie roused her to begin the momentous toilet. ”

“ But 'tis not worth what we give for it. I am growing older, Claude. I see many things differently from what I did in youth. I should deeply rejoice at peace, honesty, fidelity, truth; but, since those things are not, and cannot be, I am satisfied with what I have—money, life, clothes, wines, dinners, a good bed, and a man who really knows how to prepare perfect snuff. I let women alone. I am wiser than you."
Claude looked sharply at his cousin. Certainly, if this were his creed, he was changed. The words and tone, however, served for the moment to still his own growing disquietude. ”

“ Here were assembled all those gentlemen who, two days ago, had ridden into Paris with Louis; and a good many more who mysteriously reappeared out of the deeps of lower Paris, where they had been hidden from salon gossip and too many women. That morning Richelieu, d'Epernon, and de Gêvres left the Tuileries in despair. The King, clad in a stout leathern suit, was shut into an empty room with his friend the carpenter, making snuff-boxes with all his might, and admitting neither silk, velvet, his wife, nor the Dauphin into his presence. ”

“ As she entered the little salon with cordial haste, Victorine, cloaked and muffed, rose from her chair.
"You are very kind to come. Cl—M. de Mailly is out. I was quite alone."
"That is charming. We shall get to know each other better now—is it not so? May I take off my pelisse? Thank you. M. de Coigny and I have just come out—to Versailles, you know—for the winter. Later, we may be commanded to the palace. If so, I shall have to be under that atrocious Boufflers; and, in that case, life will be frightful." ”

“ Who—who—is the man you prefer to me?"
"My husband," was the demure reply.
"Oh! It is an insult! Already your husband has his commands. He leaves Versailles to-night, forever. Do not be afraid."
"Leaves to-night!" A dark flush spread over Deborah's face. "Leaves to-night! Mon Dieu! When—where—how? Oh, I will go now! You shall let me go to him, do you hear? At once! Why, I shall be left here alone! I—I—shall be like Mme. de Coigny. ”

“ Virginia stood in the doorway. Lucy made no answer, but Deborah said: "Lucy's here, Virginia. What has happened?"
The elder daughter of the Trevors came forward and stood looking down at the two figures on the ground. "The Reverend George Rockwell has asked for Lucy's hand. She should be most proud. Come, Lucy, supper is standing, and the wedding's not till to-morrow. Why do you bear yourself like a child? Good God, Lucy, do you fancy a woman ever gets the man she loves?" ”

“ Claude de Mailly belonged, heart and soul, to another life. Here was Sir Charles, who could give one to her. Lady Fairfield—Deborah Fairfield—the name pleased her.
"Debby, will you not answer?" came a tremulous whisper from beside her. Sir Charles was becoming anxious.
All at once she flung debate, prudence, the conventions, and—the other man, alike away from her in a jumbled heap, and made reply, clear, firm, unhesitating, to his question:
"Yes, Sir Charles. I grant your wish. Shall we walk a little?" ”

“ The Baltimore was a considerate ship, and her captain the favorite of all sea-going men in Annapolis. Neither lost a reputation this time, for, on the 20th of August, at ten o'clock in the morning, the Baltimore cast anchor in the lower piers, and Annapolis womanhood sighed with relief. It was but seven o'clock on the evening of the same day, and the Trevor family sat at supper in the glass room, watching the twilight deepen over the scented garden, when Pompey hastily entered to announce the unexpected arrival of young Charles Carroll. ”

“ Maurepas bowed courteously. "When shall we at Versailles have the opportunity of welcoming you and Mme. de Lauraguais back again?"
The Duchess looked quickly up with a flicker of amusement in her eyes at his elaborate tone. "I do not know. I am, at present, as you may perceive, scarcely able to be moved so far or to enter upon my week of duties as lady of the Queen, even should I reach Versailles safely. I must wait here till I am stronger. Till that time—M. de Richelieu may relieve the King's ennui. Must you retire so soon?" ”

“ Thus Deborah, like every other witness of the evening's sensation, had retired, to lie wide awake, and go, over and over again, through the little chain of incidents which had passed before her eyes. Her meditations were more involuntary, less purposive, than most, however. The sight of a human being in great suffering had roused in her that keen instinct which had lain nearly dormant now for so many months. After the fall, she had been one of the first to reach the side of Claude's cousin. She recalled the press of fluttering women and excited men. ”

“ What could a little colonial, what could any woman—the poor, pale Queen herself—do against Claude's cousin, the reinstated favorite, the great Duchesse de Châteauroux, and that gently spoken, inflexible, indomitable "Je le veux" which Louis of France had used? True, Deborah had become a de Mailly, had been much noticed by the King, and was talked of in peculiar whispers by all the Court. Nevertheless, what so precarious as her position? What favors might she ask? None. ”

“ Youth is light o' heart. Come now, fair Lucy, and make this man happy," put in Mr. King, detaining her still.
Little Lucy raised her head, and caught Vincent's eyes upon her. His glance was not unkind. "I shall not grant Mr. Rockwell any dance to-night, and—and I am engaged, indeed, but not to him."
"What!"
"I am. I am engaged to Will Paca for the next dances." Lucy Lucy was stumbling now, fear at her daring sweeping suddenly over her.
Mr. King, in the midst of his laughter, found breath to say: "Will Paca for the dances, but who for the wedding, little Lucy—who's for that?" ”

“ The Chief of Police, bowing courteously, turned aside and was lost in the crowd before Claude could say anything further. To tell the truth, the last words had nonplussed de Mailly not a little. Presently, however, he flung up his head, and, passing his hand over his forehead, muttered to himself: "You may be right—God knows you may be right. But no honest man gives up the woman he loves because his rival is a king. And, from my soul, I believe that in time Marie must love me in spite of all!" And so the lights grew a little brighter as Claude passed on again through the Gallery of Mirrors. ”

“ Imagine me as a mere bourgeoise—of the people. Well, then? What woman but will become selfish, forgetful of all, for the man she loves? What are those others, who stand in her way, to her? And I, Monsieur le Duc, am a woman who loves. I love—I have the courage to love—the King."
A flicker passed through the eyes of the Duke as he bent over his embroidery. Was it amusement, or was it revelation? Could it be but a recollection of certain common Court memories that appertained to the "love" of Marie Anne de Mailly? ”

“ Richelieu fell gradually into a drowsy state. Strange whispers poured from his lips. Such a night he had not spent before, such would never spend again.
Morning came, finally. The Duke rose, with relief, at a little past six, and dressed by candle-light. Grachet wondered in sleepy silence as he prepared the chocolate at such an unheard-of hour, but came near to the unpardonable false step of an exclamation, when his master, toying idly with an egg, said, suddenly: "Grachet, go and ask Mouthier—his Majesty's chef—to come to me at once if he can. Rouse him, if he is not yet up." ”

“ Suddenly Charles Fairfield rushed forward and, seizing both her hands, fell upon his knees. "Deborah! Deborah! Deborah! I love you! In the name of God Almighty, give me some hope! I meant everything honestly—honorably—do you hear? The marriage would have been legal. Rockwell will swear that to you. What right have you—Debby! Debby, you promised! Is it true that you don't care?"
Deborah drew away from him as far as she could. Her face was drawn and weary, and no light in her eyes answered his entreaties. Claude, who had watched her narrowly, now interposed. ”

“ The look on your face one sees only once a lifetime. It is youth, and—innocence, I think. How old are you? Oh, pardon! I am absurdly thoughtless! But you look so young!"
"I am eighteen," responded Deborah at once.
"And I—nineteen. Beside you I appear thirty. It is because I have lived here for three years. Ah! How I have been bored!"
"It must have been very lonely all the summer. But now, with Monsieur the Marshal returned, it will be better." ”

“ Is the château on fire? Is the King ill—or Anne in a temper? Wait—wait—wait! I open!"
The Marquis, shivering with cold, crept out of bed and unlocked his door.
"Oh! You, Claude! I might have guessed it. One's family is so inconsiderate. Will you come in? I'm going to bed again to keep myself warm. For the love of Heaven, get Chaumelle to bring a tripod of charcoal or to light my grate here!"
Claude obligingly sounded the gong, whereupon the Marquis' man appeared with admirable promptness. ”