The Princess de Montpensier


by

Mme. de Lafayette




Introduction


By

Oliver C. Colt


This story was written by Madame de Lafayette and published anonymously
in 1662. It is set in a period almost 100 years previously during the
sanguinary wars of the counter-reformation, when the Catholic rulers of
Europe, with the encouragement of the Papacy, were bent on extirpating
the followers of the creeds of Luther and Calvin. I am not qualified to
embark on a historical analysis, and shall do no more than say that
many of the persons who are involved in the tale actually existed, and
the events referred to actually took place. The weak and vicious King
and his malign and unscrupulous mother are real enough, as is a Duc de
Montpensier, a Prince of the Blood, who achieved some notoriety for the
cruelty with which he treated any Huguenots who fell into his hands,
and for the leadership he gave to the assassins during the atrocious
massacre of St. Bartholomew's day.

He was married and had progeny, but the woman to whom he was married
was not the heroine of this romance, who is a fictional character, as
is the Comte de Chabannes.

The Duc de Guise of the period whose father had been killed fighting
against the Protestants, did marry the Princess de Portein, but this
was for political reasons and not to satisfy the wishes of a Princess
de Montpensier.

It will be noticed, I think, that women were traded in marriage with
little or no regard to their personal emotions, and no doubt, as has
been remarked by others, marriages without love encouraged love outside
marriage. Whatever the reality, the literary conventions of the time
seem to have dictated that we should be treated only to ardent glances,
fervent declarations, swoonings and courtly gestures; we are not led
even to the bedroom door, let alone the amorous couch. I wonder,
however, if the reader might not think that this little tale written
more than three hundred years ago contains the elements of many of the
romantic novels and soap operas which have followed it.

At one level it is a cautionary tale about the consequences of marital
infidelity; at another it is a story of a woman betrayed, treated as a
pretty bauble for the gratification of men, and cast aside when she has
served her purpose, or a butterfly trapped in a net woven by uncaring
fate. Her end is rather too contrived for modern taste, but, even
today, characters who are about to be written out of the plot in soap
operas are sometimes smitten by mysterious and fatal disorders of the
brain.

The unfortunate Comte de Chabannes is the archetypical "decent chap,"
the faithful but rejected swain who sacrifices himself for the welfare
of his beloved without expectation of reward. In the hands of another
writer, with some modification, he could have provided a happy ending
in the "Mills and Boon" tradition.

This translation is not a schoolroom exercise, for although I have not
altered the story, I have altered the exact way in which it is told in
the original, with the aim of making it more acceptable to the modern
reader. All translation must involve paraphrase, for what sounds well
in one language may sound ridiculous if translated literally into
another, and it is for the translator to decide how far this process
may be carried. Whether I have succeeded in my task, only the reader
can say.





The Princess de Montpensier


By

Madame de Lafayette




Translated by Oliver C. Colt


Mézières

It was while the civil war of religion was tearing France apart that
the only daughter of the Marquis of Mézières, a very considerable
heiress, both because of her wealth and the illustrious house of Anjou
from which she was descended, was promised in marriage to the Duc de
Maine, the younger brother of the Duc de Guise.

The marriage was delayed because of the youth of this heiress, but the
elder of the brothers, the Duc de Guise, who saw much of her, and who
saw also the burgeoning of what was to become a great beauty, fell in
love with her and was loved in return. They concealed their feelings
with great care; the Duc de Guise, who had not yet become as ambitious
as he was to become later, wanted desperately to marry her, but fear of
angering his uncle, the Cardinal de Lorraine, who had taken the place
of his dead father, prevented him from making any declaration.

This was how the matter stood when the ruling house of Bourbon, who
could not bear to see any benefit accruing to that of de Guise, decided
to step in and reap the profit themselves by marrying this heiress to
the Prince de Montpensier.

This project was pursued with such vigour that the parents of Mlle. de
Mézières, despite the promises given to the Cardinal de Lorraine,
resolved to give her in marriage to the young Prince. The house of de
Guise was much displeased at this, but the Duc himself was overcome by
grief, and regarded this as an insupportable affront. In spite of
warnings from his uncles, the Cardinal and the Duc de Aumale--who did
not wish to stand in the way of something which they could not
prevent--he expressed himself with so much violence, even in the
presence of the Prince de Montpensier, that a mutual enmity arose
between them which lasted all their lives.

Mlle. de Mézières, urged by her parents to marry the Prince, realised
that it was impossible for her to marry the Duc de Guise, and that if
she married his brother, the Duc de Maine, she would be in the
dangerous position of having as a brother-in-law a man whom she wished
was her husband; so she agreed finally to marry the Prince and begged
the Duc de Guise not to continue to place any obstacle in the way.

The marriage having taken place, the Prince de Montpensier took her off
to his estate of Champigny, which was where Princes of his family
usually lived, in order to remove her from Paris, where it seemed that
an outbreak of fighting was imminent: this great city being under
threat of siege by a Huguenot army led by the Prince de Condé, who had
once more declared war on the King.

The Prince de Montpensier had, when a very young man, formed a close
friendship with the Comte de Chabannes, a man considerably older than
himself and of exemplary character. The Comte in turn had been so much
influenced by the esteem and friendship of the Prince that he had
broken off influential connections which he had with the Prince de
Condé, and had declared for the Catholics; a change of sides which,
having no other foundation, was regarded with suspicion: so much so
that the Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici, on the declaration of war
by the Huguenots, proposed to have him imprisoned. The Prince de
Montpensier prevented this and carried him away to Champigny when he
went there with his wife. The Comte being a very pleasant, amiable man
soon gained the approbation of the Princess and before long she
regarded him with as much friendship and confidence as did her husband.
Chabannes, for his part, observed with admiration the beauty, sense and
modesty of the young Princess, and used what influence he had to
instill in her thoughts and behaviour suited to her elevated position;
so that under his guidance she became one of the most accomplished
women of her time.

The Prince having gone back to the Court, where he was needed owing to
the continuation of the war, the Comte lived alone with the Princess
and continued to treat her with the respect due to her rank and
position. The Princess took him so far into her confidence as to tell
him of the feelings she had once had for the Duc de Guise, but she
intimated that there remained only enough of this emotion to prevent
her heart from straying elsewhere and that this remnant, together with
her wifely virtue made it impossible for her to respond, except with a
rebuff, to any possible suitor.

The Comte who recognised her sincerity and who saw in her a character
wholly opposed to flirtation and gallantry, did not doubt the truth of
her words; but nevertheless he was unable to resist all the charms
which he saw daily so close to him. He fell deeply in love with the
Princess, in spite of the shame he felt at allowing himself to be
overcome by this illicit passion. However although not master of his
heart, he was master of his actions; the change in his emotions did not
show at all in his behaviour, and no one suspected him. He took, for a
whole year, scrupulous care to hide his feelings from the Princess and
believed that he would always be able to do so.

Love, however, had the same effect on him as it does on everyone, he
longed to speak of it, and after all the struggles which are usually
made on such occasions, he dared to tell her of his devotion. He had
been prepared to weather the storm of reproach which this might arouse,
but he was greeted with a calm and a coolness which was a thousand
times worse than the outburst which he had expected. She did not take
the trouble to be angry. She pointed out in a few words the difference
in their rank and ages, she reminded him of what she had previously
said about her attitude to suitors and above all to the duty he owed to
the confidence and friendship of the Prince her husband. The Comte was
overwhelmed by shame and distress. She tried to console him by assuring
him that she would forget entirely what he had just said to her and
would always look on him as her best friend; assurances which were
small consolation to the Comte as one might imagine. He felt the
disdain which was implicit in all that the Princess had said, and
seeing her the next day with her customary untroubled looks redoubled
his misery.

The Princess continued to show him the same goodwill as before and even
discussed her former attachment to the Duc de Guise, saying that she
was pleased that his increasing fame showed that he was worthy of the
affection she had once had for him. These demonstrations of confidence,
which were once so dear to the Comte, he now found insupportable, but
he did not dare say as much to the Princess, though he did sometimes
remind her of what he had so rashly confessed to her.

After an absence of two years, peace having been declared, the Prince
de Montpensier returned to his wife, his renown enhanced by his
behaviour at the siege of Paris and the battle of St. Denis. He was
surprised to find the beauty of the Princess blooming in such
perfection, and being of a naturally jealous disposition he was a
little put out of humour by the realisation that this beauty would be
evident to others beside himself. He was delighted to see once more the
Comte, for whom his affection was in no way diminished. He asked him
for confidential details about his wife's character and temperament,
for she was almost a stranger to him because of the little time during
which they had lived together. The Comte, with the utmost sincerity, as
if he himself were not enamoured, told the Prince everything he knew
about the Princess which would encourage her husband's love of her, and
he also suggested to Madame de Montpensier all the measures she might
take to win the heart and respect of her spouse. The Comte's devotion
led him to think of nothing but what would increase the happiness and
well-being of the Princess and to forget without difficulty the interest
which lovers usually have in stirring up trouble between the objects of
their affection and their marital partners.

The peace was only short-lived. War soon broke out again by reason of a
plot by the King to arrest the Prince de Condé and Admiral Chatillon at
Noyers. As a result of the military preparations the Prince de
Montpensier was forced to leave his wife and report for duty.
Chabannes, who had been restored to the Queen's favour, went with him.
It was not without much sorrow that he left the Princess, while she,
for her part, was distressed to think of the perils to which the war
might expose her husband.

The leaders of the Huguenots retired to La Rochelle. They held
Poitou and Saintongne; the war flared up again and the King assembled
all his troops. His brother, the Duc d'Anjou, who later became Henri
III, distinguished himself by his deeds in various actions, amongst
others the battle of Jarnac, in which the Prince de Condé was killed.
It was during this fighting that the Duc de Guise began to play a more
important part and to display some of the great qualities which had
been expected of him. The Prince de Montpensier, who hated him, not
only as a personal enemy but as an enemy of his family, the Bourbons,
took no pleasure in his successes nor in the friendliness shown toward
him by the Duc d'Anjou.

After the two armies had tired themselves out in a series of minor
actions, by common consent they were stood down for a time. The Duc
d'Anjou stayed at Loches to restore to order all the places which had
been attacked. The Duc de Guise stayed with him and the Prince de
Montpensier, accompanied by the Comte de Chabannes, went back to
Champigny, which was not far away.

The Duc d'Anjou frequently went to inspect places where fortifications
were being constructed. One day when he was returning to Loches by a
route which his staff did not know well, the Duc de Guise, who claimed
to know the way, went to the head of the party to act as guide, but
after a time he became lost and arrived at the bank of a small river
which he did not recognise. The Duc d'Anjou had a few words to say to
him for leading them astray, but while they were held up there they saw
a little boat floating on the river, in which--the river not being very
wide--they could see the figures of three or four women, one of whom,
very pretty and sumptuously dressed, was watching with interest the
activities of two men who were fishing nearby.

This spectacle created something of a sensation amongst the Princes and
their suite. It seemed to them like an episode from a romance. Some
declared that it was fate that had led the Duc de Guise to bring them
there to see this lovely lady, and that they should now pay court to
her. The Duc d'Anjou maintained that it was he who should be her suitor.

To push the matter a bit further, they made one of the horsemen go into
the river as far as he could and shout to the lady that it was the Duc
d'Anjou who wished to cross to the other bank and who begged the lady
to take him in her boat. The lady, who was of course the Princess de
Montpensier, hearing that it was the Duc d'Anjou, and having no doubt
when she saw the size of his suite that it was indeed him, took her
boat over to the bank where he was. His fine figure made him easily
distinguishable from the others; she, however, distinguished even more
easily the figure of the Duc de Guise. This sight disturbed her and
caused her to blush a little which made her seem to the Princes to have
an almost supernatural beauty.

The Duc de Guise recognised her immediately in spite of the changes
which had taken place in her appearance in the three years since he had
last seen her. He told the Duc d'Anjou who she was and the Duc was at
first embarrassed at the liberty he had taken, but then, struck by the
Princess's beauty, he decided to venture a little further, and after a
thousand excuses and a thousand compliments he invented a serious
matter which required his presence on the opposite bank, and accepted
the offer which she made of a passage in her boat. He got in,
accompanied only by the Duc de Guise, giving orders to his suite to
cross the river elsewhere and to join him at Champigny, which Madame de
Montpensier told him was not more than two leagues from there.

As soon as they were in the boat the Duc d'Anjou asked to what they
owed this so pleasant encounter. Madame de Montpensier replied that
having left Champigny with the Prince her husband with the intention of
following the hunt, she had become tired and having reached the river
bank she had gone out in the boat to watch the landing of a salmon
which had been caught in a net. The Duc de Guise did not take part in
this conversation, but he was conscious of the re-awakening of all the
emotions which the Princess had once aroused in him, and thought to
himself that he would have difficulty in escaping from this meeting
without falling once more under her spell.

They arrived shortly at the bank where they found the Princess's horses
and her attendants who had been waiting for her. The two noblemen
helped her onto her horse where she sat with the greatest elegance.
During their journey back to Champigny they talked agreeably about a
number of subjects and her companions were no less charmed by her
conversation than they had been by her beauty. They offered her a
number of compliments to which she replied with becoming modesty, but a
little more coolly to those from M. de Guise, for she wished to
maintain a distance which would prevent him from founding any
expectations on the feelings she had once had towards him.

When they arrived at the outer courtyard of Champigny they encountered
the Prince de Montpensier, who had just returned from the hunt. He was
greatly astonished to see two men in the company of his wife, and he
was even more astonished when, on coming closer, he saw that these were
the Duc d'Anjou and the Duc de Guise. The hatred which he bore for the
latter, combined with his naturally jealous disposition made him find
the sight of these two Princes with his wife, without knowing how they
came to be there or why they had come to his house, so disagreeable
that he was unable to conceal his annoyance. He, however, adroitly put
this down to a fear that he could not receive so mighty a Prince as the
King's brother in a style befitting his rank. The Comte de Chabannes
was even more upset at seeing the Duc de Guise and Madame de
Montpensier together than was her husband, it seemed to him a most evil
chance which had brought the two of them together again, an augury
which foretold disturbing sequels to follow this new beginning.

In the evening Madame de Montpensier acted as hostess with the same
grace with which she did everything. In fact she pleased her guests a
little too much. The Duc d'Anjou who was very handsome and very much a
ladies man, could not see a prize so much worth winning without wishing
ardently to make it his own. He had a touch of the same sickness as the
Duc de Guise, and continuing to invent important reasons, he stayed for
two days at Champigny, without being obliged to do so by anything but
the charms of Madame de Montpensier, for her husband did not make any
noticeable effort to detain him. The Duc de Guise did not leave without
making it clear to Madame de Momtpensier that he felt towards her as he
had done in the past. As nobody knew of this former relationship he
said to her several times, in front of everybody, that his affections
were in no way changed. A remark which only she understood.

Both he and the Duc d'Anjou left Champigny with regret. For a long time
they went along in silence; but at last it occurred to the Duc d'Anjou
that the reflections which occupied his thoughts might be echoed in the
mind of the Duc de Guise, and he asked him brusquely if he was thinking
about the beauties of Madame de Montpensier. This blunt question
combined with what he had already observed of the Prince's behaviour
made the Duc realise that he had a rival from whom it was essential
that his own love for the Princess should be concealed. In order to
allay all suspicion he answered with a laugh that the Prince himself
had seemed so preoccupied with the thoughts which he was accused of
having that he had deemed it inadvisable to interrupt him; the beauty
of Madame de Montpensier was, he said, nothing new to him, he had been
used to discounting its effect since the days when she was destined to
be his sister-in-law, but he saw that not everyone was so little
dazzled. The Duc d'Anjou admitted that he had never seen anyone to
compare with this young Princess and that he was well aware that the
vision might be dangerous if he was exposed to it too often. He tried
to get the Duc de Guise to confess that he felt the same, but the Duc
would admit to nothing.

On their return to Loches they often recalled with pleasure the events
which had led to their meeting with the Princess de Montpensier, a
subject which did not give rise to the same pleasure at Champigny. The
Prince de Montpensier was dissatisfied with all that had happened
without being able to say precisely why. He found fault with his wife
for being in the boat. He considered that she had welcomed the Princes
too readily; and what displeased him most was that he had noticed the
attention paid to her by the Duc de Guise. This had provoked in him a
furious bout of jealousy in which he recalled the anger displayed by
the Duc at the prospect of his marriage, which caused him to suspect
that even at that time the Duc was in love with his wife. The Comte de
Chabannes as usual made every effort to act as peacemaker, hoping in
this way to show the Princess that his devotion to her was sincere and
disinterested. He could not resist asking her what effect the sight of
the Duc de Guise had produced. She replied that she had been somewhat
upset and embarrassed at the memory of the feelings she had once
displayed to him; she found him more handsome than he had been then and
it had seemed to her that he wished to persuade her that he still loved
her, but she assured the Comte that nothing would shake her
determination not to become involved in any intrigue. The Comte was
happy to hear of this resolve, but he was far from being sure about the
Duc de Guise. He earnestly warned the Princess of the danger of a
return to the previous situation should she have any change of heart,
though when he spoke of his devotion she adopted her invariable
attitude of looking on him as her closest friend but in no way a
possible suitor.

The armies were once more called up; all the Princes returned to their
posts and the Prince de Montpensier decided that his wife should come
with him to Paris so as to be further from the area where it was
expected that fighting would take place. The Huguenots besieged
Poitiers. The Duc de Guise went there to organise the defence and,
while there, enhanced his reputation by his conduct. The Duc d'Anjou
suffered from some illness, and left the army either on account of the
severity of this or because he wanted to return to the comfort and
security of Paris, where the presence of the Princess de Montpensier
was not the least of the attractions. The command of the army was taken
over by the Prince de Montpensier, and shortly after this, a peace
having been arranged, the Court assembled in Paris. Here the beauty of
the Princess eclipsed that of all her rivals. She charmed everyone by
her looks and personality. The Duc d'Anjou did not abandon the
sentiments she had inspired in him at Champigny, he took great care to
make her aware of this by all sorts of delicate considerations, being
careful at the same time not to make his attentions too obvious for
fear of arousing the jealousy of her husband. The Duc de Guise was now
fervently in love with her, but wishing, for a variety of reasons, to
keep this secret, he resolved to tell her so privately and avoid any
preliminaries which, as always, would give rise to talk and exposure.
One day when he was in the Queen's apartments where there were very few
people, the Queen having left to discuss affairs of state with Cardinal
de Lorraine, the Princess de Montpensier arrived. He decided to take
this opportunity to speak to her, and going up to her he said,
"Although it may surprise and displease you, I want you to know that I
have always felt for you that emotion which you once knew so well, and
that its power has been so greatly increased by seeing you again that
neither your disapproval, the hatred of your husband, nor the rivalry
of the first Prince in the kingdom can in the least diminish it. It
would perhaps have been more tactful to have let you become aware of
this by my behaviour rather than by my words, but my behaviour would
have been evident to others as well as to yourself and I wanted you
alone to know of my love for you."

The Princess was so surprised and thrown into confusion by this speech
that she could not think of an answer, then, just when she had
collected her wits and begun to reply, the Prince de Montpensier
entered the room. The Princess's face displayed her agitation, and her
embarrassment was compounded by the sight of her husband, to such an
extent that he was left in no doubt about what the Duc de Guise had
been saying to her. Fortunately at that moment the Queen re-entered the
room and the Duc de Guise moved away to avoid the jealous Prince.

That evening the Princess found her husband in the worst temper
imaginable. He berated her with the utmost violence and forbade her
ever to speak to the Duc de Guise again. She retired to her room very
sad and much preoccupied with the events of the day. She saw the Duc
the next day amid the company around the Queen, but he did not come
near her and left soon after she did, indicating that he had no
interest in remaining if she was not there. Not a day passed without
her receiving a thousand covert marks of the Duc's passion though he
did not attempt to speak to her unless he was sure that they could be
seen by nobody.

Convinced of the Duc's sincerity, the Princess, in spite of the
resolution she had made at Champigny, began to feel in the depths of
her heart something of what she had felt in the past.

The Duc d'Anjou for his part, omitted nothing which could demonstrate
his devotion in all the places where he could meet her. In the Queen
his mother's apartments he followed her about continually, completely
ignoring his sister who was very fond of him. It was at around this
time that it became evident that this sister, who later became the
Queen of Navarre, had a liking for the Duc de Guise, and another thing
that became evident was a cooling of the friendship between that Duc
and the Duc d'Anjou. The rumour linking the name of the Royal Princess
with that of the Duc de Guise disturbed the Princess de Montpensier to
a degree which surprised her, and made her realise that she was more
interested in the Duc than she had supposed.

Now it so happened that her father-in-law, M. de Montpensier, married a
sister of the Duc de Guise, and the princess was bound to meet the Duc
frequently in the various places where the marriage celebrations
required their presence. She was greatly offended that a man who was
widely believed to be in love with "Madame", the King's sister, should
dare to make advances to her; she was not only offended but distressed
at having deceived herself.

One day, when they met at his sister's house, being a little separated
from the rest, the Duc was tempted to speak to her, but she interrupted
him sharply saying angrily "I do not understand how, on the basis of a
weakness which one had at the age of thirteen, you have the audacity to
make amorous proposals to a person like me, particularly when, in the
view of the whole Court, you are interested in someone else." The Duc
who was intelligent as well as being much in love, understood the
emotion which underlay the Princess's words. He answered her most
respectfully, "I confess, Madame, that it was wrong of me not to reject
the possible honour of becoming the King's brother-in-law, rather than
allow you to suspect for a moment that I could desire any heart but
yours; but if you will be patient enough to hear me I am sure I can
fully justify my behaviour." The Princess made no reply, but she did
not go away and the Duc, seeing that she was prepared to listen to him,
told her that although he had made no effort to attract the attention
of Madame, she had nevertheless honoured him with her interest: as he
was not enamoured of her he had responded very coolly to this honour
until she gave him to believe that she might marry him. The realisation
of the grandeur to which such a marriage would raise him had obliged
him to take a little more trouble. This situation had aroused the
suspicions of the King and the Duc d'Anjou, but the opposition of
neither of them would have any effect on his course of action, however,
if this displeased her he would abandon all such notions and never
think of them again.

This sacrifice which the Duc was prepared to make caused the Princess
to forget all the anger she had shown. She changed the subject and
began to speak of the indiscretion displayed by Madame in making the
first advances and of the considerable advantages which he would gain
if he married her. In the end, without saying anything kind to the Duc
de Guise, she made him recall a thousand things he had found so
pleasing in Mlle. de Mézières. Although they had not had private
conversation for a long time, they found themselves attuned to one
another, and their thoughts went along a track which they both had
travelled in the past. At the end of this agreeable meeting the Duc was
left in a state of considerable happiness, and the Princess was not a
little moved to think that he truly loved her. However, in the privacy
of her room she became ashamed of the ease with which she had accepted
the Duc's excuses and reflected on the trouble into which she might be
plunged if she engaged in something she had always regarded with
distaste and on the frightening misery which a jealous husband might
inflict on her. These thoughts made her adopt new resolves, but they
disappeared the next day on the sight of the Duc de Guise.

The new alliance between their families gave the Duc many opportunities
to speak to her. He gave her an exact account of all that passed
between Madame and himself. He had difficulty in allaying the jealousy
to which the beauty of Madame gave rise and any number of promises
failed to reassure her. This jealousy enabled the Princess to defend
the remains of her heart against the advances of the Duc, who already
had won the greater part of it.

The marriage of the King to the daughter of the Emperor Maximilian
filled the Court with fêtes and celebrations. The King put on a ballet
in which Madame and all the princesses were to dance; among them only
the Princess de Montpensier could rival Madame in beauty. The Duc
d'Anjou and four others were to make an appearance as Moors; their
costumes would all be identical, as was usual in this sort of
performance. On the first occasion on which the ballet was presented,
the Duc de Guise, before the dance began and before he had donned his
mask, said a few words to the Princess as he went past her. She saw
clearly that the Prince her husband had noticed this, which made her
feel uneasy. A little later, seeing the Duc d'Anjou in his mask and
Moorish costume, who was coming to speak to her, she mistook him for
the Duc de Guise and said to him "Do not have eyes for anyone but
Madame this evening: I shall not be in the least jealous. I am ordering
you. I am being watched. Do not come near me again." As soon as she had
said this she moved away.

The Duc d'Anjou stood there thunderstruck. He saw that he had a
successful rival: the reference to Madame made it obvious that this was
the Duc de Guise, and left him in no doubt that his sister was to play
second fiddle to the Princess de Montpensier. Jealousy, frustration and
rage joining to the dislike which he already had for the Duc roused him
to a violent fury; and he would have given there and then some bloody
mark of his temper had not that dissimulation which came naturally to
him prevented him from attacking the Duc de Guise in the present
circumstances. He did not, however, refrain from the pleasure of
disclosing his knowledge of this secret affair. He approached the Duc
de Guise as they left the salon where they had been dancing and said to
him "To presume to raise your eyes towards my sister, as well as
stealing the affection of the woman I love is altogether too much. The
presence of the King prevents me from taking any action just now, but
remember that the loss of your life may be, one day, the least thing
with which I shall punish your impertinence."

The pride of the Duc de Guise was not accustomed to submit tamely to
such threats, but he was unable to reply because at that moment the
King called both of them to his side. He did not forget, however, and
tried all his life to exact revenge.

From that evening the Duc d'Anjou endeavoured in all sorts of ways to
turn the King against the Duc de Guise. He persuaded the King that
Madame would never agree to her proposed marriage to the King of
Navarre as long as the Duc de Guise was allowed to have any contact
with her; and that it was unacceptable that a subject, for his own vain
purposes, should place an obstacle in the way of what could bring peace
to France. The King already disliked the Duc de Guise and this speech
inflamed his dislike so much that the next day when the Duc presented
himself to join the ball at the Queen's apartments, he stood in the
doorway and asked him brusquely where he was going. The Duc, without
showing any surprise answered that he had come to offer his most humble
services, to which the King replied that he had no need of any services
which the Duc might provide, and turned away without any other
acknowledgement. The Duc was not deterred from entering the room, his
feelings incensed both against the King and the Duc d'Anjou. His
natural pride led him, as an act of defiance, to pay more attention to
Madame than usual, and what the Duc d'Anjou had told him prevented him
from looking in the direction of the Princess de Montpensier.

The Duc d'Anjou watched both of them with close attention. The
Princess's expression, in spite of herself, showed some chagrin when
the Duc de Guise spoke with Madame. The Duc d'Anjou who realised from
what she had said to him, when she mistook him for the Duc de Guise,
that she was jealous, hoped to cause trouble. He drew close to her and
said, "It is in your interest and not in mine that I must tell you that
the Duc de Guise does not deserve the choice you have made of him in
preference to me, a choice which you cannot deny and of which I am well
aware. He is deceiving you, Madame, and betraying you for my sister as
he betrayed her for you. He is a man moved only by ambition, but since
he has the good fortune to please you, that is enough; I shall not
attempt to stand in the way of a felicity which without doubt I merit
more than he. It would be undignified for me to persist in trying to
gain the heart which is already possessed by another. It is bad enough
to have attracted only your indifference and I would not like to have
this replaced by dislike by wearying you with endless protestations of
unwelcome devotion."

The Duc d'Anjou who was genuinely touched by love and sadness, was
hardly able to complete this speech, and although he had begun in a
spirit of spite and vengeance, he was so overcome when he thought of
the Princess's beauty and of what he was losing by giving up all hope
of being her lover, that without waiting for her reply he left the
ball, saying that he felt unwell, and went home to nurse his grief.

The Princess de Montpensier stayed there, upset and worried as one
might imagine. To see her reputation and her secret in the hands of a
suitor whom she had rejected and to learn from him that she was being
deceived by her lover were not things which would put her in the right
frame of mind for a place dedicated to enjoyment; she had, however, to
remain where she was and later go to supper in the company of the
Duchess de Montpensier, her mother-in-law.

The Duc de Guise who had followed them to his sister's house, was dying
to tell her what the Duc d'Anjou had said the day before, but to his
astonishment when he did have the opportunity to speak to her, he was
overwhelmed by reproaches which were tumbled out in such angry
profusion that all he could gather was that he was accused of
infidelity and treachery. Dismayed at finding himself in this unhappy
situation when he had hoped for consolation, and being so much in love
with the Princess that he could not bear to be unsure if he was loved
in return, he took a sudden decision. "I shall lay your doubts at
rest." He said. "I am going to do what all the royal power could not
make me do. It will cost me my fortune but that is of little account if
it makes you happy."

He went straight from his sister's house to that of his uncle, the
cardinal. He convinced him that having fallen into the King's
disfavour, it was essential that it should be made quite clear that he
would not marry Madame, so he asked for his marriage to be arranged
with the Princess de Portien, a matter which had previously been
discussed. The news of this was soon all over Paris and gave rise to
much surprise. The princess de Montpensier was both happy and sad. Glad
to see the power she had over the Duc, and sorry that she had caused
him to abandon something so advantageous as marriage to Madame. The Duc
who hoped that love would compensate him for his material loss, pressed
the Princess to give him a private audience so that he could clear up
the unjust accusations which she had made. He obtained this when she
found herself at his sister's house at a time when his sister was not
there and she was able to speak to him alone. The Duc took the
opportunity to throw himself at her feet and describe all that he had
suffered because of her suspicions, and though the Princess was unable
to forget what the Duc d'Anjou had said to her, the behaviour of the
Duc de Guise did much to reassure her. She told him exactly why she
believed he had betrayed her which was because the Duc d'Anjou knew
what he could only have learned from him. The Duc did not know how to defend
himself and was as puzzled as she to guess what could have given away
their secret: at last, while the Princess was remonstrating with him
for giving up the idea of the advantageous marriage with Madame and
rushing into that with the Princess de Portien, she said to him that he
could have been certain that she would not be jealous since on the day
of the ball she herself had told him to have eyes only for Madame. The
Duc said that she might have intended to do so but that she certainly
had not. She maintained that she had, and in the end they reached the
correct conclusion that she herself, deceived by the resemblance of the
costumes, had told the Duc d'Anjou what she accused the Duc de Guise of
telling him. The Duc de Guise who had almost entirely returned to
favour, did so completely as a result of this conversation. The
Princess could not refuse her heart to a man who had possessed it in
the past and had just made such a sacrifice to please her. She
consented to accept his declaration and permitted him to believe that
she was not unmoved by his passion. The arrival of the Duchess, her
mother-in-law, put an end to this tête-à-tête, and prevented the Duc
from demonstrating his transports of joy.

Some time later, the Court having gone to Blois, the marriage between
the King of Navarre and Madame was celebrated. The Duc de Guise who
wanted nothing more than the love of the Princess de Montpensier,
enjoyed a ceremony which in other circumstances would have overwhelmed
him with disappointment.

The Duc was not able to conceal his love so well that the Prince de
Montpensier did not suspect that something was going on, and being
consumed by jealousy he ordered his wife to go to Champigny. This order
was a great shock to her, but she had to obey: she found a way to say
goodbye to the Duc de Guise privately but she found herself in great
difficulty when it came to a means of providing a method whereby he
could write to her. After much thought she decided to make use of the
Comte de Chabannes, whom she always looked on as a friend without
considering that he was in love with her. The Duc de Guise, who knew of
the close friendship between the Comte and the Prince de Montpensier,
was at first amazed at her choice of the Comte as a go-between, but she
assured him of the Comte's fidelity with such conviction that he was
eventually satisfied. He parted from her with all the unhappiness which
such a separation can cause.

The Comte de Chabannes, who had been ill in Paris while the Princess
was at Blois, learning that she was going to Champigny arranged to meet
her on the road and go with her. She greeted him with a thousand
expressions of friendship and displayed an extraordinary impatience to
talk to him in private, which at first delighted him. Judge his dismay
when he found that this impatience was only to tell him that she was
loved passionately by the Duc de Guise, a love which she returned. He
was so distressed that he was unable to reply. The Princess, who was
engrossed by her infatuation, took no notice of his silence. She began
to tell him all the least details of the events, and how she and the
Duc had agreed that he should be the means by which they could exchange
letters. The thought that the woman he loved expected him to be of
assistance to his rival, and made the proposal as if it was a thing he
would find agreeable was bitterly hurtful, but he was so much in
control of himself that he hid all his feelings from her and expressed
only surprise at the change in her attitude. He hoped that this change
which removed even the faintest hope from him would at the same time
change his feelings, but he found the Princess so charming, her natural
beauty having been enhanced by a certain grace which she had acquired
at Court that he felt that he loved her more than ever. This remarkable
devotion produced a remarkable effect. He agreed to carry his rival's
letters to his beloved.

The Princess was very despondent at the absence of the Duc de Guise,
and could hope for solace only from his letters. She continually
tormented the Comte de Chabannes to know if he had received any and
almost blamed him for not having delivered one sooner. At last some
arrived, brought by a gentleman in the Duc's service, which he took to
her immediately so as not to delay her pleasure for a moment longer
than necessary. The Princess was delighted to have them and tortured
the poor Comte by reading them to him, as well as her tender and loving
reply. He took this reply to the waiting courier even more sadly than
he had made the delivery. He consoled himself a little by the
reflection that the Princess would realise what he was doing for her
and would show some recognition. Finding, however, that she daily
treated him with less consideration, owing to the anxieties which
preoccupied her, he took the liberty of begging her to think a little
of the suffering she was causing him. The Princess who had nothing in
her head but the Duc de Guise, was so irritated by this approach that
she treated the Comte much worse than she had done on the first
occasion when he had declared his love for her. Although his devotion
and patience had stood so many trials, this was too much. He left the
Princess and went to live with a friend who had a house in the
neighbourhood, from where he wrote to her with all the bitterness that
her behaviour had provoked and bid her an eternal adieu.

The Princess began to repent having dealt so harshly with a man over
whom she had so much influence, and being unwilling to lose him, not
only on account of their past friendship, but also because of his vital
role in the conduct of her affair, she sent a message to him to say
that she wished to speak to him one more time and that afterwards she
would leave him free to do as he pleased. One is very vulnerable when
one is in love. The Comte came back, and in less than an hour the
beauty of the Princess, her charm and a few kind words made him more
submissive than ever, and he even gave her some letters from the Duc de
Guise which he had just received.

At this time there was a scheme afoot in the Court to attract there all
the leaders of the Huguenots, with the secret aim of including them in
the horrible massacre of St. Bartholomew's day. As part of this attempt
to lull them into a false sense of security, the King dismissed from
his presence all the princes of the houses of Bourbon and de Guise. The
Prince de Montpensier returned to Champigny, to the utter dismay of his
wife, the Duc de Guise went to the home of his uncle, the Cardinal de
Lorraine.

Love and idleness induced in him such a violent desire to see the
Princess de Montpensier that without considering the risks to her and
to himself he made some excuse to travel and leaving his suite in a
small town he took with him only the gentleman who had already made
several trips to Champigny, and went there by post-chaise. As he knew
no one whom he could approach but the Comte de Chabannes, he had the
gentleman write a note requesting a meeting at a certain spot. The
Comte, believing that this was solely for the purpose of receiving
letters from the Duc de Guise went there, but was most surprised to see
the Duc himself and equally dismayed. The Duc, full of his own plans,
took no more notice of the Comte's dismay than had the Princess of his
silence when she told him of her amour. He described his passion in
florid terms and claimed that he would infallibly die if the Princess
could not be persuaded to see him. The Comte replied coldly that he
would tell the Princess all that the Duc wanted to convey and would
return with her response. He then went back to Champigny with his own
emotions in such a turmoil that he hardly knew what he was doing. He
thought of sending the Duc away without saying anything to the
Princess, but the faithfulness with which he had promised to serve her
soon put an end to that idea. He arrived without knowing what he should
do, and finding that the Prince was out hunting, he went straight to
the Princess's apartment. She saw that he was distressed and dismissed
her women in order to find out what troubled him. He told her, as
calmly as he could, that the Duc de Guise was a league distant and that
he wanted passionately to see her. The Princess gave a cry at this news
and her confusion was almost as great as that of the Comte. At first
she was full of joy at the thought of seeing the man she loved so
tenderly, but when she considered how much this was against her
principles, and that she could not see her lover without introducing
him into her home during the night and without her husband's knowledge,
she found herself in the utmost difficulty. The Comte awaited her reply
as if it were a matter of life or death. Realising that her silence
indicated her uncertainty, he took the liberty of presenting to her all
the perils to which she would be exposed by such a meeting, and wishing
to make it clear that he was not doing this in his own interest, he
said that if, in spite of all that he had said she was determined to
see the Duc, rather than see her seek for aid from helpers less
faithful than himself, he would bring the Duc to her. "Yes Madame," he
said, "I shall go and find the Duc and bring him to your apartment, for
it is too dangerous to leave him for long where he is."

"But how can this be done?" interrupted the Princess.

"Ha! Madame," cried the Comte, "It is then decided, since you speak
only of the method. I shall lead him through the park; only order one
of your maids whom you can trust to lower, exactly at midnight, the
little drawbridge which leads from your antechamber to the flower
garden and leave the rest to me." Having said this he rose and without
waiting for any further comment from the Princess, he left, remounted
his horse and went to look for the Duc de Guise, who was waiting for
him with the greatest impatience.

The Princess remained in such a state of confusion that it was some
time before she came to her senses. Her first thought was to send
someone after the Comte to tell him not to bring the Duc, but she could
not bring herself to do so. She then thought that failing this she had
only not to have the drawbridge lowered, and she believed that she
would continue with this resolve, but when the hour of the assignation
drew near she was no longer able to resist the desire to see the lover
whom she longed for, and she gave instructions to one of her women on
the method by which the Duc was to be introduced into her apartment.

Meanwhile the Duc and the Comte were approaching Champigny, but in very
differing frames of mind. The Duc was full of joy and all the happiness
of expectation. The Comte was in a mood of despair and anger, which
tempted him at times to run his sword through his rival. They at last
reached the park, where they left their horses in the care of the Duc's
squire, and passing through a gap in the wall they came to the flower
garden. The Comte had always retained some hope that the Princess would
come to her senses and resolve not to see the Duc, but when he saw that
the drawbridge was lowered he realised that his hope was in vain. He
was tempted to take some desperate measure, but he was aware that any
noise would be heard by the Prince de Montpensier whose rooms looked
out onto the same flower-garden, and that all the subsequent disorder
would fall on the head of the one he loved most. He calmed himself and
led the Duc to the presence of the Princess. Although the Princess
signaled that she would like him to stay in the room during the
interview, he was unwilling to do so, and retired to a little passage
which ran alongside the Princess's apartment, a prey to the saddest
thoughts which could afflict a disappointed lover.

Now, although they had made very little noise while crossing the
bridge, the Prince de Montpensier was awake and heard it. He made one
of his servants get up and go to see what it was. The servant put his
head out of the window and in the darkness he could make out that the
drawbridge was lowered. He told his master who then ordered him to go
into the park and find out what was going on. A moment later he got up
himself, being disturbed by what he thought he had heard, that is,
footsteps on the bridge leading to his wife's quarters.

As he was going towards the little passage where the Comte was waiting,
the Princess who was somewhat embarrassed at being alone with the Duc
de Guise, asked the latter several times to come into the room. He
refused to do so and as she continued to press him and as he was
furiously angry he answered her so loudly that he was heard by the
Prince de Montpensier, but so indistinctly that the Prince heard only a
man's voice without being able to recognise it as that of the Comte.

These events would have infuriated a character more placid and less
jealous than the Prince de Montpensier. He hurled himself against the
door, calling for it to be opened, and cruelly surprising the Princess,
the Duc de Guise and the Comte de Chabannes. This last, hearing the
Prince's voice, saw immediately that it was impossible to prevent him
from believing that there was someone in his wife's room, and that he
was in such a state that if he found that it was the Duc de Guise he
might kill him before the eyes of the Princess and that even her life
might be at risk. He decided, in an act of extraordinary generosity, to
sacrifice himself to save a successful rival and an ungrateful mistress.

While the Prince was battering on the door, he went to the Duc, who had
no idea what to do, put him in the care of the woman who had arranged
his entry by the bridge and told her to show him the way out. Scarcely
had he left when the Prince having broken down the door entered the
room like a man possessed. However when he saw only the Comte de
Chabannes, motionless, leaning on a table with a look of infinite
sadness on his face, he stopped short. The astonishment of finding his
best friend alone at night in his wife's room deprived him of speech.
The Princess had collapsed onto some cushions and never perhaps has
fate put three people in a more unhappy position. At last the Prince
made an attempt to make sense of the chaos before his eyes. He
addressed the Comte in a tone of voice which still had some
friendliness, "What is this I see?" he said, "Is it possible that a man
I love so dearly has chosen among all other women to seduce my wife?
And you, Madame," he said, turning to his wife, "Was it not enough to
deprive me of your love and my honour without depriving me of the one
man who could have consoled me in such circumstances? Answer me, one of
you," he said to them, "And explain this affair, which I cannot believe
is what it seems." The Princess was incapable of replying and the Comte
opened his mouth once or twice but was unable to speak.

"You see me as a criminal," he said at last. "And unworthy of the
friendship you have shown me; but the situation is not what you may
think it is. I am more unhappy than you and more despairing. I do not
know how to tell you more than that. My death would avenge you, and if
you were to kill me now you would be doing me a favour." These words,
spoken with an air of the deepest sorrow, and in a manner which
declared his innocence instead of enlightening the Prince confirmed him
in the view that something mysterious was going on which he did not
understand. His unhappiness was increased by this uncertainty. "Kill me
yourself," he said. "Or give me some explanation of your words for I
can understand nothing. You owe it to my friendship, you owe it to my
restraint, for anyone but me would have already taken your life to
avenge such an affront."

"The appearances are wholly misleading," interrupted the Comte.

"Ah! It is too much. I must be avenged and clear things up later," said
the Prince, advancing towards the Comte like a man carried away by
rage. The Princess, fearing bloodshed, (which was not possible as her
husband did not have a sword) placed herself between the two of them
and fell fainting at her husband's feet. The Prince was even more
affected by this than he was by the calmness of the Comte when he
confronted him, and as if he could no longer bear the sight of those
two people who had caused him such distress, he turned away and fell on
his wife's bed, overcome by grief. The Comte de Chabannes, filled with
remorse at having abused the friendship of which he had had so many
marks, and believing that he could never atone for what he had done,
left the room abruptly and passing through the Princess's apartment
where he found all the doors open, he went down to the courtyard. He
had a horse brought to him and rode off into the country led only by
his feelings of hopelessness. The Prince de Montpensier, seeing that
his wife did not recover from her faint, left her to her women and
retired to his own quarters greatly disturbed.

The Duc de Guise having got out of the park, hardly knowing what he was
doing being in such a state of turmoil, put several leagues between
himself and Champigny, but could go no further without news of the
Princess. He stopped in the forest and sent his squire to find out from
the Comte de Chabannes what had happened. The squire found no trace of
Chabannes but was told by others that the Princess was seriously ill.
The Duc's inquietude was increased by what the squire had told him, but
as he could do nothing he was constrained to go back to his uncle's in
order not to raise suspicions by too long an absence.

The Duc's squire had been correct when he said that the Princess was
seriously ill, for as soon as her women had put her to bed she was
seized by a violent fever with horrible phantasies, so that by the
second day her life was despaired of. The Prince pretended that he
himself was ill so that no one should be surprised that he did not
visit his wife's room. The order which he received to return to the
Court, to which all the Catholic princes were being recalled in
preparation for the massacre of the Huguenots, relieved him of his
embarrassment. He went off to Paris without knowing what he had to hope
or fear about his wife's illness. He had hardly arrived there when the
assault on the Huguenots was signalised by the attack on admiral de
Chatillon. Two days later came the disgraceful massacre, now so well
known throughout Europe.

The poor Comte de Chabannes who had gone to hide himself away in one of
the outer suburbs of Paris to abandon himself to his misery was caught
up in the ruin of the Huguenots. The people to whose house he had
retired, having recognised him, and having recalled that he had once
been suspected of being of that persuasion, murdered him on the same
night which was fatal to so many people. The next day the Prince de
Montpensier, who was in that area on duty, passed along the street
where the body of the Comte lay. He was at first shocked by this
pitiful sight and, recalling his past friendship, was grieved; but then
the memory of the offence, which he believed the Comte had committed,
made him feel pleased that he had been avenged by the hand of chance.

The Duc de Guise who had used the opportunity of the massacre to take
ample revenge for the death of his father, gradually took less and less
interest in the condition of the Princess of Montpensier; and having
met the Marquise de Noirmoutier, a woman of wit and beauty, and one who
promised more than the Princess de Montpensier, he attached himself to
her, an attachment which lasted a lifetime.

The Princess's illness reached a crisis and then began to remit. She
recovered her senses and was somewhat relieved by the absence of her
husband. She was expected to live, but her health recovered very slowly
because of her low spirits, which were further depressed by the
realisation that she had received no news of the Duc de Guise during
all her illness. She asked her women if they had not seen anyone, if
they had not had any letters, and finding that there had been nothing,
she saw herself as the most wretched of women, one who had risked all
for a man who had abandoned her. A fresh blow was the news of the death
of the Comte de Chabannes, which her husband made sure she heard about
as soon as possible. The ingratitude of the Duc de Guise made her feel
even more deeply the loss of a man whose fidelity she knew so well.
These disappointments weighed heavily upon her and reduced her to a
state as serious as that from which she had recently recovered. Madame
de Noirmoutier was a woman who took as much care to publicise her
affairs as others do to conceal them. Her relations with the Duc de
Guise were so open that, even though far away and ill, the Princess
heard so much about it that she was left in no doubt. This was the
final straw. She had lost the regard of her husband, the heart of her
lover, and the most loyal of her friends. She took to her bed, and died
not long after in the flower of her youth. She was one of the loveliest
of women and could have been one of the happiest if she had not strayed
so far from the path of prudence and virtue.