She had often been thinking how he came to know, that the Duke de
Nemours had been at Colomiers; she could not suspect that the Duke
himself had told it; though it was indifferent to her whether he had or
no, she thought herself so perfectly cured of the passion she had had
for him; and yet she was grieved at the heart to think that he was the
cause of her husband's death; and she remembered with pain the fear
Monsieur de Cleves expressed, when dying, lest she should marry the
Duke; but all these griefs were swallowed up in that for the loss of
her husband, and she thought she had no other but that one.
After several months the violence of her grief abated, and she fell
into a languishing kind of melancholy. Madam de Martigues made a
journey to Paris, and constantly visited her during the time she stayed
there: she entertained her with an account of the Court, and what
passed there; and though Madam de Cleves appeared unconcerned, yet
still she continued talking on that subject in hopes to divert her.
She talked to her of the Viscount, of Monsieur de Guise, and of all
others that were distinguished either in person or merit. "As for the
Duke de Nemours," says she, "I don't know if State affairs have not
taken possession of his heart in the room of gallantry; he is
abundantly less gay than he used to be, and seems wholly to decline the
company of women; he often makes journeys to Paris, and I believe he is
there now." The Duke de Nemours's name surprised Madam de Cleves, and
made her blush; she changed the discourse, nor did Madam de Martigues
take notice of her concern.
The next day Madam de Cleves, who employed herself in things suitable
to the condition she was in, went to a man's house in her
neighbourhood, that was famous for working silk after a particular
manner, and she designed to bespeak some pieces for herself; having
seen several kinds of his work, she spied a chamber door, where she
thought there were more, and desired it might be opened: the master
answered, he had not the key, and that the room was taken by a man, who
came there sometimes in the daytime to draw the plans and prospects of
the fine houses and gardens that were to be seen from his windows; "he
is one of the handsomest men I ever saw," added he, "and does not look
much like one that works for his living; whenever he comes here, I
observe he always looks towards the gardens and houses, but I never see
him work."