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."




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