Madam de Cleves listened to this story very attentively, and what Madam

de Martigues had told her of Monsieur de Nemours's coming now and then

to Paris, she applied in her fancy to that handsome man, who came to a

place so near her house; and this gave her an idea of Monsieur de

Nemours endeavouring to see her; which raised a disorder in her, of

which she did not know the cause: she went towards the windows to see

where they looked into, and she found they overlooked all her gardens,

and directly faced her apartment: and when she was in her own room, she

could easily see that very window where she was told the man came to

take his prospects. The thought that it was the Duke de Nemours,

entirely changed the situation of her mind; she no longer found herself

in that pensive tranquillity which she had begun to enjoy, her spirits

were ruffled again as with a tempest: at last, not being able to stay

at home, she went abroad to take the air in a garden without the

suburbs, where she hoped to be alone; she walked about a great while,

and found no likelihood of anyone's being there.

Having crossed a little wilderness she perceived at the end of the

walk, in the most remote part of the garden, a kind of a bower, open on

all sides, and went towards it; when she was near, she saw a man lying

on the benches, who seemed sunk into a deep contemplation, and she

discovered it was the Duke de Nemours. Upon this she stopped short: but

her attendants made some noise, which roused the Duke out of his

musing: he took no notice who the persons were that disturbed him, but

got up in order to avoid the company that was coming towards him, and

making a low bow, which hindered him from seeing those he saluted, he

turned into another walk.

If he had known whom he avoided, with what eagerness would he have

returned? But he walked down the alley, and Madam de Cleves saw him go

out at a back door, where his coach waited for him. What an effect did

this transient view produce in the heart of Madam de Cleves? What a

flame rekindled out of the embers of her love, and with what violence

did it burn? She went and sat down in the same place from which

Monsieur de Nemours was newly risen, and seemed perfectly overwhelmed;

his image immediately possessed her fancy, and she considered him as

the most amiable person in the world, as one who had long loved her

with a passion full of veneration and sincerity, slighting all for her,

paying respect even to her grief, to his own torture, labouring to see

her without a thought of being seen by her, quitting the Court (though

the Court's delight) to come and look on the walls where she was shut

up, and to pass his melancholy hours in places where he could not hope

to meet her; in a word, a man whose attachment to her alone merited

returns of love, and for whom she had so strong an inclination, that

she should have loved him, though she had not been beloved by him; and

besides, one whose quality was suitable to hers: all the obstacles that

could rise from duty and virtue were now removed, and all the trace

that remained on her mind of their former condition was the passion the

Duke de Nemours had for her, and that which she had for him.




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