Pulp Fiction, 1882 · page 17 of 72
Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 17: what you’re looking at
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i et ee . —— rs - - ae ge oe — —~——e - many times, and to make her THE THREE GUARDSMEN, Ww epened a door, and pushed her companion into a{ lov: me; and indeed to say so, would be a proof of rig en on = only by a night-lamp, saying to him, * Re n here, my lord duke; some one will come immed . Then she went out by the same door which she locked after her, so that the duke found himself literally a prisoner. Yet, though thus, as it were, deserted, the duke, it must be conf , did not feel the slightest fear. the greatest ingratitude on the part of your majesty. For tell me, where would you find a love like mine—a love which neither time, nor absence, nor despair can overcome, and which is recompensed by a ribbon, by a glance, a word! Itis now three years since I saw you for the first time, and for three years have I ador- ed you thus. Will you allow me to describe to you One of the prominent features of his character was your dress on that occasion, and to tell the detail of the love of adventure and romance. mined, and enterprising, it was not the first time he had risked his life in like adventures. He had learned thatthis pretended message of Anne of Austria, on the faith of which he had come to Paris, was asnare; and, instead of returning to England, he had taken | e of his position, and assured the queen that | dress, and adorned with a heron’s plume, upon your head. Oh! thus—thus, with closed eyes do I behold at first positively refused an inter- | yon as you then were, and I open my eyes again, only nt fearing lest the duke might be guilty of | to see you now, a hundred times more lovely than advan he would not de The queen h view; rt without seeing her. Brave, deter- | the ornaments you wore? Yes! | seem to see you now, seated in the Spanish manner, upon cushions, wearing a dress of green satin, embroiderod in silver and in gold, with falling sleeves fastened around your beautiful arm by large diamords; you wore also, a close ruff, and a small hat, of the same color as your some folly in his rage, she had resolved to see him, | ever!” and to entreat him to set out directly; when, on the very evening on which Madame Bonancieux was charged to conduct him to the Louvre, the lady was herself carried off. During two days it was not known what had become of her, and everything continued in suspense. But once free, and in communication with la Porte, affairs had resumed their course; and she had now accomplished the perilous enterprise, which, but for her abduction, she would have exe- cuted three days before. Buckingham, being left alone, approached a looking-glass. The dress of a musketeer became him wonderfully. At thirty-five he was justly considered the handsomest man, and the most elegant cavalier of France or England. The favorite of two kings, rich as Croesus, all powerful in -realm which he disturbed and tranquilized as he vgleased, George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, had engaged in one of those fabulous existencies which remain, throughout the course of ages, an astonish- iment to posterity. Confident in himself, convinced of his power, and satisfied that the laws which re- strain other people could not reach him, he went straight to the object he had fixed upon, even when that object was so elevated and so dazzling that it would have been madness in another to have even glanced towardsit. It was thus that he ma to approach the beautiful and my mm Anne of Austria ove him for his bril- liant qualities. Placing himself before the giass, the duke arrayed his beautiful fair hair, of which the pressure of his hat had disarranged the curls, and put his mustache in order; and then, his heart swelling with Joy’ happy and elated at having reached the moment he had so long desired, he smiled to himself with pride and hope. At that moment a door concealed in the tapestry opened, anda woman appeared. Buckingham saw she reflection in the glass; he uttered acry; it was the queen! Anne of Austria was at that time twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age; that is, she was in all the glory of her beauty. Her deportment was that of a uueen, or a goddess. Her eyes, which shone like emeralds, were perfectly beautiful, but at the same time full of gentleness and mons mm Her mouth was small and rosy; though her under lip, like that of the princess of the house of Austria, protruded slightly beyond that of the other, her smile was eminently gracious, but at the same time could be profoundly haughty in its scorn. Her skin was celebrated for its softness as of velvet, and her hand and arm were of such s ng beauty as to be commemorated as incomparable by all the tsof the time. Adrmira- bly, too, did her hair, which in her youth had been fair, but had now become chesnuty, and which she ' wore —— dressed, and with a great deal of pow- der, shade a face, on which the most rigid critic could have desired only a little less rouge, and the most fastidious sculptor only a little more delicacy in the formation of the nose. , ; nee remained an instant perfectly daz- zled. Anne of Austria had never appeared to him so beautiful even in the midst of balls, and festivals, and entertainments, as now she seemed,in her simple robe of white satin, and accompanied by Donna Este- tana, the only one of her Spanish ladies who had not been driven fron: her by the jealousy of the king, and the persecutions of the cardinal. Aune of Austria advanced two steps, the duke threw himself at her feet, and before the queen could prevent him, had kissed the hem of her robe. My lord, you already know that it was not | who sent for you from England.” ‘Oh, yes, madame—yes, your majesty!"’ exclaim ed Buckingham. “I know that I have been a fool, a niuuwiman, to believe that the snow could have been auimated,that the marble could grow warm; but what would you expect? The lover easily believes in love; nor has my journey been entirely in vain, since [ be- ioild you now.” * Yes,’’ replied Anne, ‘“‘but you know why, and how, Deee you, my lord. I see you out of compassion wo yourself; I see you, because insensible to all my “ISCPess, you persist in ae in a city where, by ‘emaining, you risk your own life, and my honor; I ive you, to teal you that everything separates us—the i»pths of the sea, the enmity of nations, the oe of oaths. It is sacrilege to struggle against su ungs, my lord. And, lastly, 1 see you to tell you .1at L must never see you more."’ “Speak, madame—speak, queen,’ said Bucking- nam: “the softness of your voice repays the stern- ness of your words, You speak of auntiege: but the sacrilege isin the tion of hearts which God had formed for one another, ‘My lord," said the queen, * you forget that I never have said [ loved you, * But neither have you ever said that you did not * What folly!” murmured Anne of Austria, who dared not to be offended with the duke for preserving her portrait so faithfully in his heart; ** what folly to nourish so uselessa passion on such memories as these!" ‘Alas, what would your majesty exact? I have nothing but these memories; they are my ha — my treasure, and my ae Each time that hold you, is anew jewel that I enshrine within the casket of my heart. This is the fourth of them that you have let fall, and that 1 have eagerly secured. Yes, in three years, madame,I have ne pe only four times; the first | have already recalled to you; the second was at Madame de Chevreuse’s; the third was in the gardens of Amiens.” “My lord!’ exclaimed the queen, blushing, “do not refer to that evening!" ** Oh, rather let us dwell upon it, madame, for it is the one beaming, blissful evening of my existence. Does your majesty remember how lovely a night it was’ The air was laden with odoriferous sweetness, and the blue sky was studded with innumerable stars. Ah, madame, I was alone with you for an instant then, and you were about to make me the confidante of your griefs, of the isolation of your life, and the deep sorrows of your heart, You were Jeaning on my arm—on this one, me—and when I leaned my head towards — I felt my face gently touched by our beautifu r; and every time that I so felt it, trembled through every vein. Oh, queen—queen! you know not the meg eee the joys of paradise,, which I experienced in that moment, Goods, for- tune, glory, life, gladly would I give them all for an- other interview like that on such a night; for, mad- ame, I willswear that then, at least on that night, you loved me.” **My lord, itis possible that the influence of the place, the charm of that enchanting evening, the fas- cination of your looks, and the thousand circum- stances which sometimes occur.in Jeading a woman onwards to her fall, may have grouped themselves around me on that fatal night; but you are not ig- norant, my lord, that the queen gave succor to the weakness of the woman; and that at the first word that you presumed to say—at the first freedom that you dared to take, | summoned others to my pres- ence there!" ** Alas, it is but too true, and any feebler love than mine would never have survived the test: but love, madame, came out from it more ardent, and more immortal. You thought to escape from me by re- turning to Paris; you believed that | should never dare to quit the treasure which my master had com- manded meto guard; but what cared I for all the treasures and all the kings upon the earth! week, madame, | was on my return. “On that occasion, madame, you had nothing to complain of; I had risked favor, and life, to see you for a single second; I did not even touch your hand; and you forgave me when you found I was submis- sive and repentant.” * Yes, my lord, but you are well aware that ealum- ny fastened even upon those follies in which I had so small a share. Prompted by the cardinal, the king’s resentment was extreme. Madame de Vernot was dismissed; Putange was banished; and Madame de Chevreuse was disgraced. And do you not remem- ber my, lord, that when you wished to return as an ambassador to France, it was his majesty himself by whom you were opposed.”’ “ Yes! and France is about to pay with a war for that opposition. I cannot see vou again, madame; well! L will take care that you shall continually hear of me. What do you suppose to have been the true design of that expepition to Rhe, and that 1 e which,l am projecting with the Protestants ? he delight of seeing you! Iam well enough aware that Ihave no chance of reaching Paris at the head of an army; but then, this war must bring about a peace; peace will require negotiations; and those otia- tions shall be made by none but me. They will no longer dare to reject me then; and I shall return to Paris, and behold you once again, and be, for an instant, happy. It is but too true that my enjoyment will have been bought by the blood of thousands of mankind; but what will their lives be to me, provided that my eyes are blest once more by seeing you! This may be folly, madame—perhaps madness; but tell me, pray, had ever woman more impassioned lover, had ever queen a more enthusiastic servant?” “My lord—my lord! the witnesses you call for your defence accuse me. These very proofs,that you would give me of your love, are themselves almost crimes!’ But on y Dosmues ‘ou donot love me, madame. pe te Bhp ot — re ~ ree wane these cir- cu “68 Seem; but the joy would be too great,and I should be distracted by x bliss. You spoke but now, madame, of Madame de Chevreuse; but, oh! how much less cruel was that lady than you are! Hol- land loved her, and she smiled upon his love.” in one ‘*‘Madame de Chevreuse was not a queen!”’ mur- mured Anne of Austria, subdued, in spite of herself, by the expression of a passion so profound. “‘And would you then love me if you were not? Oh, tell me, madame, say that you would love me! Let me believe that it is but the dignity of ba 57 rank that has made you thus merciless to me! Let me believe that if you had been but Madame de Chev- reuse, there might have been hope for the unhappy Buckingham. Oh, charming queen, thanks for these sweet words—a thousand—thousand thanks!’’ “Alas, my lord, have you misunderstood me? I did not mean to say——”’ * Hush—hush!"’ exclaimed the duke. “ Be not so cruel as to correct an error that is so full of happi- ness tome. You have yourself told me that I have been drawn into a snare; it may be that my life will. be the forfeit, for, strangely enough, for some time J have had presentiments of an approaching death.”’ And the duke smiled, with a sad yet winning smile. **Oh, God!” exclaimed the queen, in a tone of ter- ror, which manifested more fully than she might have» wished, her interest in the duke. ** But I did not tell you this to alarm you, madame, No, it is even ridiculous to speak of it; and, believe me, I do not give importance to such silly dreams.. But the words which you have just utte the hope: which you almost gave me, would be a pense: for vine Somers even for my life!’ * Ah!’ Anne of Austria, “ and I, also, have had my presentiments. I dreamed that you stretched upon the earth, all bloody from a wound.” ‘**On the left side, and inflicted by a knife, was it not?’’ said the duke. “Yes, my lord! it was in the left side,and by a knife. But who could have told you of my dream? I have never spoken of it but in my prayers to “T would not covet more; and you love me, mad — ame! yes, you love me!”’ “T love you?” “Yes, you! Would God send to you the same dreams as to me, if you did not love me? Should we be visited by the same presentiments, if our two ex- istences were not united by the heart? Yes, queen, you love me and you weep for me!” *Oh, my God—my God!’ exclaimed the queen, “this is more than I can bear. In the name of hea- ven, my lord, withdraw! I know not whether I love you or not; but this 1 know, that I will never break my vow. Have pity on me, then, and leave rade 2 dom. Oh! if you should be wounded in Fran rc you should die in France—if I could imagine that your love for me had beer the cause of your death, I should never be consoled. The thought would mad- den me! De , then, depart, I you.”**~ ‘Oh! how beautiful you are now? How devotedly 2 love you!”’ exclaimed Buckin 4 ‘Depart, I implore you, and return hereafter:” | continued the queen; **come back as an ambassaao as a minister; come back, surrounded by your guards who will defend you, and your servants who will watch over you, and then I shall have no fear for your life, and shall have some happiness in seeing rou.”’ zs oss but is it really true, what you now tell me?” + es.”’ “Give me, then, some pledge of your regard—some object which has been yours—to satisfy me that I have not been indulging in a dream: something that you have once worn, and that I may wear now—a ring, a bracelet, or a chain!” “And will you go if I give you what you ask?” ““ es 99. “Immediately ?”’ “Yes,” “You wil) quit France, land?’ * Yes, I swear I will.” ‘Wait a moment then; wait, sir.”’ and will return to Eng And the queen returned to her chamber, and came back almost in an instant, holdi small casket of rosewood, inlaid wit her own initials were engraved. * Here, my lord, here! keep this as a memorial of me! Buckingham took the casket, and again sunk upom his knee, * You pees me to go,” said the queen. ‘And I will keep my word! Your hand, madame, and | jeave you.” Closing her eyes, and leaning on Donna Estefana— for she felt her strength was failing her—Anne of Austria extended her hand Buckingham pressed his lips passionately on that a hand, and cat ones “et " ore six mon ve passed,”’ said he, *' be not dead, I will see you again, if I must disturb the world to accomplish it.”’ And, true to his promise, he rushed out of the room, In the corridor he found Madame Bonancieux. awaiting him; anc, with the same and ~_ same good fortune, she led him forth out of the uvre. CHAPTER XIll. MONSIEUR BONANCIEUX, =aee was pas in = _ see a be re mar , coneern whom, recarious situation, no one appouted Bache sp disquist himself. ee person Be, : —- 6 respectable mar- o the tical and amorous intrigues 80 hotolertaty entangled themselves soguttier fn toes chivalrous and Lore air at readers may or member, we have prom- ised not to ieee sight of him. (GO )(0)(0) Geom in her hand a gold, on which | \