S4- MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN. lived at that period, would have esteemed themselves ! own domicile until twelve o'clock, unless the dauphin- _.._...-----i ess should command her attendance for some morning reading or some early walk. Thus free, in fine weather she set out every morning with a book ill ber hand, and traversed alone the extensive woods which lie be- tween Versailles and Trianon; then after a walk of two hours, during which she gave full play to meditation and reverie, she returned to breakfast, often without having seen either nobleman or servant, man or livery. When the heat began to pierce through the thick foliage, Andrée had her little chamber so fresh and cool with the double current of air from the door and tlie window. A small sofa covered with Indian silk, four chairs to match, a simple yet elegant bed with a circular top, from which the curtains of the same ma- terial as the covering of the furniture fell in deep folds, two china vases placed upon the cliimneypiece, and a square table with brass feet, composed her little world, whose narrow confines bounded all her hopes and limited all her wishes. Andrée was seated in her apartment, therefore, as we have said, and busily engaged in writing to her father, when a little modest knock at the door of the corridor attracted her attention. She raised her head on seeing the door open, and uttered a slight cry of astonishment when the radiant face of Nicole appeared, entering from the little ante- chamber. ^ Chapter XCIII.—How Pleasure to Some is Despair to Others fortunate could they have perused the pamphlets on fortifications and manoeuvring, of which Rafte wrote one every week. M. afte was busy revising the plan of a - against the English in tlie Mediterranean When the marshal entered, and said: " Rafte, look at this child, will you?" Rafte looked. "Very pretty," said he, with a most significant movement of the lips. r " Yes, but the likeness, Rafte? It is of the likeness I speak." "Oh! true. What the deuce!" "You see it, do you not?" "It is extraordinary; it will either make or mar her fortune." " It will ruin her iu the first place; but we shall ar- range all that. You observe she has fair hair, Rafte; but that will not signify much, will it?" "It wili only be necessary to make it black, my Lord," replied Rafte, who had acquired the habit of completing his master's thoughts, and sometimes even of thinking entirely for him. " Come to my dressing-table, child," said the marshal; '" this gentleman, who is a very clever man, will make you tlie handsomest aud the least easily recognized waiting-maid in France." In fact, ten minutes afterwards, with the assistance -of a composition wliich the marshal used every week to dye the white hairs beneath his wig black, a piece of ¦coquetry which lie often affected to confess by tlie bed- side of some of his acquaintance, Rafte had dyed the beautiful auburn hair of Nicole a splendid jet black. Then lie passed the end of a pin, blackened in the flame of a candle, over her thick fair eyebrows, and by this means gave such a fantastic look to her joyous - countenance, such an ardent and even sombre fire to her bright clear eyes, that one would have said she was some fairy bursting by the power of an incanta- tion from the magic prison in which her enchanter had held her confined. " Now, my sweet child," said Richelieu, after having handed a mirror to the astonished Nicole, " look how «harming you are, and how little like the Nicole you were just now. You have no longer a queen to fear, ¦but a fortune to make." " Oh, my Lord!" exclaimed the young girl. " Yes, and for that purpose it is only necessary that We understand each other." Nicole blushed and looked down; the cunning one expected, no doubt, some of those flattering words Which Richelieu knew so well how to say. The duke perceived this, and to cut short all mis- understanding, said: " Sit down in this arm-chair beside M. Rafte, my dear child. Open your ears wide, and listen to me. Oh ! do not let M. Rafte's presence embarrass you; do not be afraid; he will, on the contrary, give us his advice. You are listening, are you not?" "Yes, my Lord," stammered Nicole, ashamed at having thus been led away by her vanity. The conversation between M. de Richelieu, M. Rafte, and Nicole, lasted more than an hour, after which the marshal sent the iittle femme-de-chambre to sleep with the other waiting-women in the hotel. Rafte returned to his military pamphlet, and Riche- lieu retired to bed, after having looked over the differ- ent letters which conveyed to him intelligence of all the acts of the provincial parliaments against M. •d'Aiguillon and the Dubarry clique. Early the next day, one of his carnages without his «oat of arms, conducted Nicole to Trianon, set her down at the gate with her little packet, and immediately dis- . appeared. Nicole, with head erect, mind at ease, and hope dancing in her eyes, after having made the neces- sary inquiries, knocked at the door of the offices. It was ten o'clock in the morning. Andrée, already lip and dressed, was writing to her father to inform him of the happy event of the preceding day, of which M de Richelieu, as we have already seen, had made himself the messenger. Our readers wiil not have for- gotten that a flight of stone steps led from the garden tothe little chapel of Trianon; that on the landmg- filace of this chapel a staircase branched off towards he right to the first story, which contained the apart- ments of the ladies-in-waiting, which apartments opened off a long corridor, like an alley, looking upon the gar- Andree's apartment was the first upon the left hand in this corridor. It was tolerably large, well lighted by windows looking upon the stable court, and pre- ceded by a little bed-room with a closet on either side. This apartment, however insufficient, if one considers the ordinary household of the officers of a brilliant court, was yet a charming retreat, very habitable, and very cheerful as an asylum from the noise and bustle ot the palace. There an ambitious soul could fly to de- vour the affronts or the mistakes of the day, and there, too. an humble and melancholy spirit could repose in - silence and in solitude, apart from the grandeur of tbe gay world around. In fact, the stone steps once ascended and the chapel passed there no longer existed either superiority, duty, contained in this will have more power or display. There reigned the calm of a convent, and the personal liberty of prison life. The slave of the Ïialace was a monarch when she had crossed the hreshold of her modest dwelling. A gentle yet lofty «oui such as Andree's found consolation in this reflec- tion; not that she flew hereto repose after the fatigues of a disappointed ambition, or of unsatisfied longings, but she felt that she could think more at her ease in the narrow bounds of her chamber than in the rich saloons of Trianon, or those marble halls which her feet trod with a timidity amounting almost to terror. From this sequestered nook, where the young girl felt herself so well and so appropriately placed, she " Good-day, Mademoiselle, it is I," said Nicole with a joyous curtsy which nevertheless, from the young girl's knowledge of her mistress' character, was not unmixed with anxiety. "You! And how do you happen to be here?' re- plied Andrée, putting down her pen, the better to fol- low the conversation which was thus commenced. " Mademoiselle had forgotten ine, so I came-----" "But if I forgot you, Mademoiselle, it was because I had my reasons for so doing. Who gave you permis- sion to come?" ,, ,, ., " Monsienr the baron, of course, Mademoiselle," said Nicole, smoothing the handsome Mack eyebrows which she owed to the generosity of M. Rafte, with a very dissatisfied air. . _ " My father requires your services m Pans, and 1 do not require you here at all. You may return, child. " Oh, then, Mademoiselle does not care—I thought Mademoiselle had been more pleased with me—It is well worth while loving, added Nicole, philosophically, " to meet with such a return at last." And she did her utmost to bring a tear to her beauti- ful eves. ,. . ... There was enough of heart and feeling m this re- proach to excite Andree's compassion." "My child, " said she, "I have attended here already, and ï cannot permit myself unnecessarily to increase the household of the dauphiness by another mouth. "Ohl as if this mouth was so large!" said Nicole, with a charming smile. . . "No matter, NicBle, your presence here is impossi- ble." ., ., "On account of (his resemblance?" said the young girl. "Then you have not looked at my face, Made- moiselle?" " In fact, you seem changed.." " I think so 1 A fine gentleman, he who got the pro- motion for M. Philip, came to us yesterday, and as he saw the baron quite melancholy at your being here without a waiting-maid, he told him that nothing w-as easier than to change me from fair to dark He brought me with him, dressed me as you see, and here lam." Andrée smiled ., , ... "You must love me very much," said she, since you are determined at all risks to shut yourself up in Trianon, where I am almost a prisoner." Nicole cast a rapid but intelligent glance round the "The chamber is not very gay," said she, "but you are not always in it?" ' "I? Of course not," replied Andrée; "butyou? "Well I!" "You'who will never enter the saloons of madame the dauphiness; you, who will have neither the re- sources of the theatre, nor the walk, nor the evening circle, but will always remain here, you will die of weariness." , ,..,, "Oh!" said Nicole, "there is always some little win- dow or other, one can surely see some little glimpse ot the gay world without, were it only through the chinks of the door. If a person can see they can also be seen —that is all I require; so do not be uneasy on my account." . ... . "I repeat, Nicole, that I cannot receive you without express orders from my father." "Is that your settled determination?' " It is " Nicole drew the Baron de Taverney's letter from her bosom. . , " There," said she, " since my entreaties and my oe- votion to you have had no effect, let us see if the order mtained in this will have more power." Andrée read the letter which was in the following terms: " I am aware, and indeed it is already remarked, my dear àndree, that you do not occupy the position at Trianon which your rank imperatively requires. You ought to have two femme-de-chambre and a valet, as I ought to have clear twenty thousand pounds per an- num- but as I am satisfied with one thousand pounds, itate my example, and content yourself with Nicole, whp in her own person is worth all the servants you ought to have. , "Nicole is quick, intelligent, and devoted to you, ana v.- „ i will readilv adopt the tone and manners of her new «ould look without emotion on all the splendor which ! , ljt„ Your chief care indeed will be not to stimu- during the dav. had met her dazzled eye. Surrounded ]ate ^ but t0 repress her anxiety. Keep her, then; by her flowers, her harpsichord and her German , ^ ^ h il)e that T am making any sacrifice in books—such sweet companions to those who read with i dpt)rjvin,j myself of her services. In case you should the heart—Andrée defied fate to inflict on her a single tw^k go* Member that his majesty, who had the grjef, or to deprive her of a single joy. , goodness to think of us, remarked on seeing you (this "Here," said she. when in the evening, after her « conficied to me by a good friend), that you re- duties were over, she returned to throw around her d a Iittie m0re attention to your toilet and gen- shoulders her dressing-goivn with its wide folds, and to : ij ap„uarance. Think of this: it is of great im- breathe with all her soul, as with all her lungs; here : „ rtaI1';j Your Affectionate Father." I possess nearly everything I can hope to possess till vy™""^" , my death I may one day perhaps be richer, but I can , Th s letter threw Andrée into a state of grief^and never be poorer than I now am. There will always be perplexity. She was then to be haunted everi in her «owers,.imisic, and a consohng page to cheer the poor j new prospe^ty, b^the^remembrance o^hat^overty .jrtttS-fSE* -ff-S? incdhieT^ M I ^^TS^^^SS _3W lo ¦preciouli boonto her; for she could thus remain in her to tear the letter she had commenced, and to reply to her father's epistle by some lofty tirade expressive ef philosophical self-denial-, which Philip would have ap- proved of with all his heart. But she imagined she saw the baron's satirical smile on reading this chef d'œuvre, and her resolution vanished. She merely re- plied to the baron's order, therefore, by a paragraph annexed to the news of Trianon which she had already written to him according to his request. "My father," she added, "Nicole has this moment arrived, and 1 receive her since you wish it; but what you have written on this subject has vexed me. Shall I be less ridiculous with this village girl as waiting- maid, than when I was alone amidst this wealthy court? Nicole will be unhappy at seeing me humbled; she will be discontented; for servants feel proud or humbled in proportion to the wealth or poverty of their masters. As to his majesty's remark, my father, per- mit me to tell you that the king has too much good sense to be displeased at my incapacity to play the grand lady, and, besides, his majesty has too much heart to have remarked or criticised my poverty with- out transforming it into; a wealth to which your name and services would have had a legitimate claim in the eyes of all." , ,. This was Andree's reply, and it must be con- fessed that her ingenuous innocence, her noble pride, had an easy triumph over the cunning and corruption of her tempters. __, , _,, , Andrée said no more respecting Nicole. She agreed to Lier remaining, so that the latter, joyous and ani- mated she well knew why, prepared on the spot a little bed in the cabinet on the right of the ante-chamber, and made herself as small, as serial, and as exquisite as possible in order not to inconvenience her mistress by her presence in this modest retreat. One would haye thought she wished to imitate the rose-leaf which the Persian sages let fall upon a vase filled with water to show that something could be added without spilling the contents. . , , . „. Andrée set out for Trianon about one o'clock. She had never been more quickly or more gracefully attired. Nicole had surpassed herself; politeness, attention, and zeal—nothing had been wanting in her services. When Mademoiselle de Taverney was gone, ÎMCole felt herself mistress of the. domicile, and instituted a thorough examination of it. Everything was scruti- nized from the letters to the smallest knick-knack on the toilet-table, from the mantelpiece to the most se- cret corners of the closets. Then she looked out oi the windows to take a survey of the neighborhood. Below her was a large court-yard, m which several ostlers were dressing and currying the splendid horses of the dauphiness. Ostlers !—pshaw? Nicole turned away her head. . -, ., On the right was a row of windows on the same stow as those of Andree's apartment. Several heads appeared at these windows, apparently those of cham- bermaids and flocr-scrubbers. Nicole disdainfully pro- ceeded in her examination. On the opposite side, in a large apartment, some music-teachers were drilling a class of choristers and instrumentalists for the mass ot St. Louis. Vv ithout ceasing her dusting operations, Nicole commenced to sing after her own fashion, thus distracting the atten- tion of the masters, and causing the choristers to sing &But this pastime could not long satisfy Mademoiselle Nicole's ambition. When the masters and the singers had quarrelled, and been mystified sufficiently, the little waiting-maid preceded to the inspection of the higher story. All the windows were closed, and more- over they were only attics, so Nicole continued her dusting. But a moment afterwards, one of these attic windows was opened without her being able to dis- cover by what mechanism, for no one appeared. Some reison however, must have opened this window: this some person must have seen Nicole and yet not have remained to look at her, thereby proving himself a most impertinent some person. At least such was Nicole's opinion. But she who examined everything so conscientiously, could not avoid examining the feat ures of this impertinent; and she therefore returned every moment from her different avocations to the window to give a glance at this attic—that is, at this open eye from which the eyeball was so obstinately absent. Once she imagined that the person fled as she approached; but this was incredible, and she did not believe it. , . ¦ . .1__ On another occasion she was almost certain of the fact having seen the back of the fugitive, surprised, no doubt, by a prompter return than he had antici- pased Then Nicole had recourse to stratagem, bhe concealed herself behind the curtain, leaving the win- dow wide open to drown all suspicion. __, She waited a long time, but at last a head of black hair made its appearance; then came two timid hands, which supported, buttress-like, a body bending over cautiously; and finally, a face showed itself distinctly at the window. Nicole almost fell, and grasped the curtain so tightly, in her surprise, that it shook lrom top to bottom. ... , , . . It was Monsieur Gilbert's face which was looking at her from this lofty attic. But the moment Gilbert saw the curtain move, he comprehended the trick, and ap- peared no more. To mend the matter, the attic win- dow was closed. _,, , , y. . ,__„ „„ No doubt Gilbert had seen Nicole; he had been as- tonished, and had wished to convince himself of the presence of his enemy; and when he found himself Sscovered instead, he had fled in agitation and in anger At least Nicole interpreted the scene thus, and shewas right, for this was the exact state of the case. Tn fact Gilbert would rather have seen his Satanic ma^sty in person than Nicole. The arrival of this spy caused h ma thousand terrors. He felt an old leaven of Tealousy against her, for she knew his secret of the g GUbert haffi »>»* «ot. in agitation alone but also in anglr, and biting his nails with "SOf what use now is my polish discovery of which I was so proud?" said he to himself. Even l£ ^fole had a lover in Paris, the evil is done, and she will not be sent away from this on that account but if she tells what I did in the Rue Coq-Heron, I shal be dismissed from Trianon. It is not I who govern Nicole-it is she who governs me. Oh, fury!" .ti™,,. Anel Gilbert's inordinate self-love serving; as a stimu lanttohis hatred, made his blood boil with f"Kn7"i violence It seemed to him that Nicole m entering tnai apartment had chased from it with a diabolical smile all the happy dreams which Gilbert from his garret had wafted thither every night along with his vows, bis ardent love, and his flowers. Had Gilbert been too