"It is," said Cellamare.

"And to whom is it addressed?" asked Madame de Maine, taking it from the prince's hands.

"To the king, Louis XV., madame," said the latter.

"Good!" said the d.u.c.h.ess; "we will get it presented by the Marshal de Villeroy. Let us see what it says." And she read as rapidly as the writing permitted:

"'The Escurial, 16th March, 1718.

"'Since Providence has placed me on the throne of Spain, I have never for an instant lost sight of the obligations of my birth. Louis XIV., of eternal memory, is always present to my mind. I seem always to hear that great prince, at the moment of our separation, saying to me, 'The Pyrenees exist no longer.' Your majesty is the only descendant of my elder brother, whose loss I feel daily. G.o.d has called you to the succession of this great monarchy, whose glory and interests will be precious to me till my death. I can never forget what I owe to your majesty, to my country, and to the memory of my ancestor.

"'My dear Spaniards (who love me tenderly, and who are well a.s.sured of my love for them, and not jealous of the sentiments which I hold for you) are well a.s.sured that our union is the base of public tranquillity. I flatter myself that my personal interests are still dear to a nation which has nourished me in its bosom, and that a n.o.bility who has shed so much blood to support them will always look with love on a king who feels it an honor to be obliged to them, and to have been born among them.'

"This is addressed to you, gentlemen," said the d.u.c.h.ess, interrupting herself; and, looking round her, she continued, impatient to know the rest of the letter:

"'What, then, can your faithful subjects think of a treaty signed against me, or rather against yourself?

"'Since your exhausted finances can no longer support the current expenses of peace, it is desired that you should unite with my most mortal enemy, and should make war on me, if I do not consent to give up Sicily to the archduke. I will never subscribe to these conditions: they are insupportable to me.

"'I do not enter into the fatal, consequences of this alliance. I only beg your majesty to convoke the States-General directly, to deliberate on an affair of such great consequence.'"

"The States-General!" murmured the Cardinal de Polignac.

"Well, what does your eminence say to the States-General?" interrupted Madame de Maine, impatiently. "Has this measure the misfortune not to meet with your approbation?"

"I neither blame nor approve, madame," replied the cardinal; "I only remember that this convocation was made during the league, and that Philip came off badly."

"Men and times are changed, cardinal," replied the d.u.c.h.ess; "we are not in 1594, but in 1718. Philip II. was Flemish, and Philip V. is French.

The same results cannot take place, since the causes are different." And she went on with the letter:

"'I ask this in the name of the blood which unites us--in the name of the great king from whom we have our origin--in the name of your people and mine. If ever there was a necessity to listen to the voice of the French nation, it is now. It is indispensable to learn what they think: whether they wish to declare war on us. As I am ready to expose my life to maintain its glory and interests, I hope you will reply quickly to the propositions I make to you. The a.s.sembly will prevent the unfortunate results which threaten us, and the forces of Spain will only be employed to sustain the greatness of France, and to fight her enemies, as I shall never employ them but to show your majesty my sincere regard and affection.'

"What do you think of that, gentlemen? Can his majesty say more?"

"He might have joined to this an epistle addressed directly to the States-General," answered the Cardinal de Polignac. "This letter, if the king had deigned to send it, would have had a great influence on their deliberations."

"Here it is," said the Prince de Cellamare, taking a paper from his pocket.

"What, prince!" cried the cardinal.

"I say that his majesty is of the same opinion as your eminence, and has sent me this letter, which is the complement of the letter which the Baron de Valef has."

"Then nothing is wanting," cried Madame de Maine.

"We want Bayonne," said the Prince de Cellamare;--"Bayonne, the door of France."

At this moment D'Avranches entered, announcing the Duc de Richelieu.

"And now, prince, there is nothing wanting," said the Marquis de Pompadour, laughing: "for here is he who holds the key."

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE DUC DE RICHELIEU.

"At last!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, seeing Richelieu enter. "Are you, then, always the same? Your friends cannot count on you any more than your mistresses."

"On the contrary, madame," said Richelieu, approaching the d.u.c.h.ess, "for to-day, more than ever, I prove to your highness that I can reconcile everything."

"Then you have made a sacrifice for us, duke," said Madame de Maine, laughing.

"Ten thousand times greater than you can imagine. Who do you think I have left?"

"Madame de Villars?" asked the d.u.c.h.ess.

"Oh no! better than that."

"Madame de Duras?"

"No."

"Madame de Nesle?"

"Bah!"

"Madame de Polignac? Ah! pardon, cardinal."

"Go on. It does not concern his eminence."

"Madame de Soubise, Madame de Gabriant, Madame de Gace?"

"No, no, no."

"Mademoiselle de Charolais?"

"I have not seen her since my last trip to the Bastille."

"Mademoiselle de Valois?"

"Oh! I intend her for my wife, when we have succeeded, and I am a Spanish prince. No, madame; I have left, for your highness, the two most charming grisettes."

"Grisettes! Ah! fie!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, with a movement of contempt, "I did not think that you descended to such creatures."

"Creatures! two charming women! Madame Michelin and Madame Renaud. Do you not know them? Madame Michelin, a beautiful blonde; her husband is a carpet manufacturer; I recommend him to you, d.u.c.h.esse. Madame Renaud, an adorable brunette, with blue eyes and black lashes, and whose husband is--. Ma foi! I do not remember exactly--"

"What M. Michelin is, probably," said Pompadour, laughing.