On the Canal.
Upon the green waters of the canal bordered with marble, upon which time had already scattered black spots and tufts of mossy grass, there glided majestically a long, flat bark adorned with the arms of England, surmounted by a dais, and carpeted with long damasked stuffs, which trailed their fringes in the water. Eight rowers, leaning lazily to their oars, made it move upon the canal with the graceful slowness of the swans, which, disturbed in their ancient possessions by the approach of the bark, looked from a distance at this splendid and noisy pageant. We say noisy - for the bark contained four guitar and lute players, two singers, and several courtiers, all sparkling with gold and precious stones, and showing their white teeth in emulation of each other, to please the Lady Henrietta Stuart, grand-daughter of Henry IV., daughter of Charles I., and sister of Charles II., who occupied the seat of honor under the dais of the bark. We know this young princess, we have seen her at the Louvre with her mother, wanting wood, wanting bread, and fed by the _coadjuteur_ and the parliament. She had, therefore, like her brothers, passed through an uneasy youth; then, all at once, she had just awakened from a long and horrible dream, seated on the steps of a throne, surrounded by courtiers and flatterers. Like Mary Stuart on leaving prison, she aspired not only to life and liberty, but to power and wealth.
The Lady Henrietta, in growing, had attained remarkable beauty, which the recent restoration had rendered celebrated. Misfortune had taken from her the luster of pride, but prosperity had restored it to her. She was resplendent, then, in her joy and her happiness, - like those hot-house flowers which, forgotten during a frosty autumn night, have hung their heads, but which on the morrow, warmed once more by the atmosphere in which they were born, rise again with greater splendor than ever.
Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, son of him who played so conspicuous a part in the early chapters of this history, - Villiers of Buckingham, a handsome cavalier, melancholy with women, a jester with men, - and Wilmot, Lord Rochester, a jester with both sexes, were standing at this moment before the Lady Henrietta, disputing the privilege of making her smile. As to that young and beautiful princess, reclining upon a cushion of velvet bordered with gold, her hands hanging listlessly so as to dip in the water, she listened carelessly to the musicians without hearing them, and heard the two courtiers without appearing to listen to them.
This Lady Henrietta - this charming creature - this woman who joined the graces of France to the beauties of England, not having yet loved, was cruel in her coquetry. The smile, then, - that innocent favor of young girls, - did not even lighten her countenance; and if, at times, she did raise her eyes, it was to fasten them upon one or other of the cavaliers with such a fixity, that their gallantry, bold as it generally was, took the alarm, and became timid.
In the meanwhile the boat continued its course, the musicians made a great noise, and the courtiers began, like them, to be out of breath.
Besides, the excursion became doubtless monotonous to the princess, for all at once, shaking her head with an air of impatience, - "Come gentlemen, - enough of this; - let us land."
"Ah, madam," said Buckingham, "we are very unfortunate! We have not succeeded in making the excursion agreeable to your royal highness."
"My mother expects me," replied the princess; "and I must frankly admit, gentlemen, I am bored." And whilst uttering this cruel word, Henrietta endeavored to console by a look each of the two young men, who appeared terrified at such frankness. The look produced its effect - the two faces brightened; but immediately, as if the royal coquette thought she had done too much for simple mortals, she made a movement, turned her back on both her adorers, and appeared plunged in a reverie in which it was evident they had no part.
Buckingham bit his lips with anger, for he was truly in love with the Lady Henrietta, and, in that case, took everything in a serious light.
Rochester bit his lips likewise; but his wit always dominated over his heart, it was purely and simply to repress a malicious smile. The princess was then allowing the eyes she turned from the young nobles to wander over the green and flowery turf of the park, when she perceived Parry and D'Artagnan at a distance.
"Who is coming yonder?" said she.
The two young men turned round with the rapidity of lightning.
"Parry," replied Buckingham; "nobody but Parry."
"I beg your pardon," said Rochester, "but I think he has a companion."
"Yes," said the princess, at first with languor, but then, - "What mean those words, 'Nobody but Parry;' say, my lord?"
"Because, madam," replied Buckingham, piqued, "because the faithful Parry, the wandering Parry, the eternal Parry, is not, I believe, of much consequence."
"You are mistaken, duke. Parry - the wandering Parry, as you call him – has always wandered in the service of my family, and the sight of that old man always gives me satisfaction."
The Lady Henrietta followed the usual progress of pretty women, particularly coquettish women; she passed from caprice to contradiction; - the gallant had undergone the caprice, the courtier must bend beneath the contradictory humor. Buckingham bowed, but made no reply.
"It is true, madam," said Rochester, bowing in his turn, "that Parry is the model of servants; but, madam, he is no longer young, and we laugh only when we see cheerful objects. Is an old man a gay object?"
"Enough, my lord," said the princess, coolly; "the subject of conversation is unpleasant to me."
Then, as if speaking to herself, "It is really unaccountable," said she, "how little regard my brother's friends have for his servants."
"Ah, madam," cried Buckingham, "your royal highness pierces my heart with a dagger forged by your own hands."