# Francesca Carrara/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV.
"Nous avons changé tout cela."
"I must be early in my attendance on the Queen to-day, and you shall accompany me," said Madame de Mercœur to Francesca. "Mademoiselle de Montpensier, so long an exile from the court, has at last obtained permission to return; she will arrive this morning. Have you any curiosity to see this heroine of the Fronde?"
"Indeed I have," answered Francesca; "my only fear is, in seeing so many new faces, that I shall forget from remembering too much. The whole of my former life would not fill one week of my present existence."
"I, too, recall," replied the Duchesse, "How bewildered I felt at first. I really lost half of what I wanted to observe, through fear of losing any. But we must be quick. I myself long to see if our Princess return with her former unbroken spirit. There is a saying of hers when a child, ​which is the key to her whole character. Some one was talking to her of her grandmother, Madame do Guise, when she exclaimed, 'She is my grandmother at a distance—she is not Queen.'"
On Madame de Mercœur's arrival at the palace she found the carriage and guards in waiting, the Queen having decided that she would do her niece the honour of going to meet her.
"As we have deemed a reconciliation expedient," said Anne to Madame de Mercœur, as they passed down the steps, "we must do it with a good grace; a flourish of trumpets, and a few extra guards, are a ready way to Mademoiselle's heart."
The cortège proceeded about a mile, when a courier announced the Princess's approach, who arrived almost as soon. The carriage, which was at full gallop, stopped suddenly; the guards deployed round, and Mademoiselle alighted. She advanced with the step of an empress, till she came beside the Queen, when, dropping on her knee, she kissed the hem of her robe, and then the royal hand. This, however, Anne would scarcely permit, and, raising the penitent, embraced her with seeming cordiality, exclaiming, "I am very glad to see you; you know I was ​always fond of you." The Princess again kissed her hands. "Not but what I have sometimes been very, very angry with you. I did not mind the Orleans business; but as to la porte Saint Antoine, well for you I was not near—I could have strangled you!"
"Ah, Madame!" was the reply, "I deserve it, since I displeased you; but it has been my misfortune to be connected with people who induced me to act contrary to my duty."
"I have said all I meant to say—it is as well to have it over at once. But henceforth it is a forbidden subject—one, indeed, quite forgotten; and I shall love you as well as ever." And again they embraced. "Though it is six years since I have seen you," exclaimed Anne, "you are not the least altered; instead of that, you are handsomer than ever; your being rather more embonpoint suits you, and your complexion is brilliant to a degree."
"Has your Majesty," rejoined Mademoiselle, "Heard that I have actually some gray hairs?"
"I am surprised," said Anne, "to see so many at your age."
"I was resolved," observed her companion, "that you should see me as I am, so have not worn powder." Then, as if unwilling to admit ​them as a defect, she added, "But my mother had them before she was twenty; and gray hairs are quite an heirloom on my father's side."
When they reached the gates, the Queen desired her to notice the guard. "It is doubled to-day on your account; we have not so many usually."
"Nay," exclaimed the guest, "this is treating me like a foreign princess."
"Only in honour, not in affection," was the gracious answer.
On their arrival, Francesca could not resist an opportunity of expressing her astonishment to Madame de Mercœur. "I expected," whispered she, "the interview would be attended with such awkwardness, and made myself quite uncomfortable before with thinking how annoying it would be to both parties. Instead of that, nothing could be easier; and they seemed so glad to meet. But were they quite in earnest?"
"My dear Francesca," said the Duchesse, laughing, "there are some questions that were never meant to be asked, still less to be answered; and yours is one of the number."
They were all now assembled in the Queen's apartment, who, passing her fingers through Mademoiselle's hair, said, "It is very beautiful, ​but I must see it better dressed." The conversation then took the most familiar turn; and Francesca, from where she stood, could hear the Queen giving a laughing account of the Due de Domville's attachment to Mademoiselle Menneville, the prettiest of her maids of honour, all of whom were pretty.
"It is a passion of the good old time, and has already lasted some four years; but Madame la Duchesse de Vantadour, his mother, will not hear of it. Never before was a lover of fifty so put out, to think that he cannot yet have his own way. Not content with his own cares, when obliged to be absent he leaves his almoner to take charge of her. It is gallantry equally antediluvian and interminable; I suppose they will be married one day, and buried the next."
At this moment the King arrived. He had been riding, and was covered with dust; but that was, as his mother observed, the more flattering, for it marked his impatience to see their visitor. On his entrance the Queen presented Mademoiselle. "Here is a young lady who is very sorry that she has been so wicked, and promises to he very good in future." The King laughed. "But where is your brother?"
"He is coming in the carriage; he would not ​spoil his dress by riding. He is adorned to distraction."
And he began laughing again, while Mademoiselle betrayed the conviction that she was herself the object of this decoration; but instantly assuming an air of the utmost humility, she exclaimed, "I ought to kneel to implore your Majesty's pardon for my past offences."
"Nay," replied he, "it is I who must kneel to you, to entreat you not to speak in such a style."
"How like she is to your brother!" said Anne.
"My brother is much flattered by the discovery," said her son; while Mademoiselle wore a pleased and conscious smile.
"My life for it," whispered the Chevalier de Joinville, "that Mademoiselle is already calculating the probabilities of marrying Monsieur."
At last the Duke of Anjou arrived, dressed, as his brother said, to distraction. He wore a garb rather fanciful, of a silver-grey colour, trimmed with crimson, and a narrow edging of silver; the lace round his throat was of the finest point; and, some time before he was seen, his perfumes announced his approach. The youthful prince was just at the age when love of dress is a passion. The first appreciation of one's own face and figure ​is a very delightful feeling; and as the youth outgrows the boy, it seems as if so much lost time had to be made up. The Duke embraced his cousin with extreme cordiality, which was greatly in creased by her ready compliments on his growth and appearance.
A few minutes afterwards, the Cardinal was announced; and Francesca was not the only one who was curious to observe the meeting. They had been such declared, such personal enemies, that, even in a court, it seemed wonderful how a decent external could be given to their reconciliation. The difficulty was, however, only imaginary. Mademoiselle was the first to salute the Cardinal, who returned it with an air of great empressement; then addressing the Queen, she said, "Really, I do think, your Majesty, after all that has passed, should bid us embrace; I am sure, on my part, it will be with all my heart."
The Cardinal immediately approached, and knelt. This was, however, not suffered by the Princess, who, extending both hands, raised him, and they embraced with great apparent goodwill.
"The times are changed," said De Joinville, in a low tone to Francesca, "since Mademoiselle promenaded the terraces of the Louvre, with her ​fan ornamented with bunches of straw tied with blue riband, and half Paris shouting at the sight."
Francesca made no reply; Mademoiselle was so overflowing with happiness at her return to the court, that it was absolute cruelty to make an allusion to the dangerous past. Refinement and amusement, like knowledge, are so diffused now-a-days, that an exile from the royal circle would be a nominal punishment; but it then included every species of privation. The theatre—at that era such a resource—balls, fêtes, &c., to say nothing of worldly influence, were all forfeited by a banishment from court, the centre of all the pleasures, variety, and ambition of society.
"I look upon to-day, Mademoiselle," said the Cardinal, "As the reward of my anxiety for your return. I have, indeed, not been master of the obstacles which opposed it."
"I can assure you," replied the Princess, "you are but little aware how I used to take your part, when my father was most enraged against you. I always said things would be exactly as they are."
Memory has many conveniences, and, among others, that of foreseeing things as they have afterwards happened.
The dinner-hour being near, Mademoiselle ​departed, Louis handing her to her carriage. Francesca could not but admire her noble demeanour, her easy yet stately walk, and the finely turned head, placed so gracefully on her shoulders; certainly no one ever more completely looked her high descent.
"The comedy has gone off to perfection," exclaimed Madame de Mercœur. "I am glad she is allowed to return; she is no longer dangerous, and her exile has been sufficient punishment."
"Alas," replied Francesca, "I look upon the self-possession, the readiness of reply, the ease, I daily witness, with such hopelessness——"
"All in good time," answered her friend, laughing; "you are quite young enough to blush a little longer. Wait till you have a motive for dissimulation. I am afraid it is intuitive with us all."
Truly, society is like a large piece of frozen water; there are the rough places to be shunned, the very slippery ones all ready for a fall, and the holes which seem made expressly to drown you. All that can be done is to glide lightly over them. Skaiting well is the great art of social life.