Madam de Mercoeur received them with a great deal of joy, and thought
of nothing but giving them all the pleasures and diversions of the
country; one day, as they were hunting a stag, the Duke de Nemours lost
himself in the forest, and upon enquiring his way was told he was near
Colomiers; at that word, Colomiers, without further reflection, or so
much as knowing what design he was upon, he galloped on full speed the
way that had been showed him; as he rode along he came by chance to the
made-ways and walks, which he judged led to the castle: at the end of
these walks he found a pavilion, at the lower end of which was a large
room with two closets, the one opening into a flower-garden, and the
other looking into a spacious walk in the park; he entered the
pavilion, and would have stopped to observe the beauty of it, if he had
not seen in the walk the Prince and Princess of Cleves, attended with a
numerous train of their domestics. As he did not expect to meet
Monsieur de Cleves there, whom he had left with the King, he thought at
first of hiding himself; he entered the closet which looked into the
flower-garden, with design to go out that way by a door which opened to
the forest; but observing Madam de Cleves and her husband were sat down
under the pavilion, and that their attendants stayed in the park, and
could not come to him without passing by the place where Monsieur and
Madam de Cleves were, he could not deny himself the pleasure of seeing
this Princess, nor resist the curiosity he had to hear her conversation
with a husband, who gave him more jealousy than any of his rivals. He
heard Monsieur de Cleves say to his wife, "But why will you not return
to Paris? What can keep you here in the country? You have of late
taken a fancy for solitude, at which I am both surprised and concerned,
because it deprives me of your company: I find too, you are more
melancholy than usual, and I am afraid you have some cause of grief."
"I have nothing to trouble my mind," answered she with an air of
confusion, "but there is such a bustle at Court, and such a multitude
of people always at your house, that it is impossible but both body and
mind should be fatigued, and one cannot but desire repose." "Repose,"
answered he, "is not very proper for one of your age; you are at home,
and at Court, in such a manner as cannot occasion weariness, and I am
rather afraid you desire to live apart from me." "You would do me
great wrong to think so," replied she with yet more confusion, "but I
beg you to leave me here; if you could stay here, and without company,
I should be very glad of it; nothing would be more agreeable to me than
your conversation in this retirement, provided you would approve not to
have about you that infinite number of people, who in a manner never
leave you."