The Princess of Cleves #04

"We must part, my dear daughter. I regret that I am leaving you in such great danger." Rosalind opened her mouth to speak, but her mother continued. "No, do not confess your passion for the Duke de Nemours to me. At first, I believed you did not understand your feelings for him, and I was afraid to give your emotions a name. You know too well now that your are balanced on a precipice, with a great distance to fall."

Rosalind began to weep, her mother's cold hand cradled between hers.

"You must do great violence to your heart. Reflect on what you owe to your husband, and to me. Remember the reputation you have gained with your modesty and virtue. Do all that is necessary to preserve yourself from the misfortunes that are the bitter lees of gallantry. Beg your husband to carry away from the court, forbid his friendship with the Duke, and do not be afraid of harsh resolutions."

The Mme. de Chartes felt her hand bathed in her daughter's hot tears. It made her next words even harder to speak. "Listen carefully now, if there is anything capable of disturbing my peace in the next world, it would be to witness you losing your virtue. Should that be your fate, I am glad I will die before my name is associated with such infamy."

Rosalind was shaking her head, and she threw herself across the bed and began weeping on her mother's bosom. Moved, the Mme. de Chartes began to cry as well, embracing her daughter.

After a minute, she pushed the girl away. "Adieu, my dear daughter, let us end a conversation which breaks us both. Remember my words, and you will never go astray."

Finished, the Mme. de Chartes turned away from her daughter, telling her to send in her women. After that, she refused admittance to Rosalind, and saw only her attendants, her confessor, and her doctor.

Two days later, she died in the afternoon, and far from being composed, she was in the utmost state of despair. None understood what had happened the previous night that so disturbed her once serene mind, none but Diana, the Duchess de Valentinois.

Diana sent away the King and her lovers, claiming to be indisposed, and bathed her pillow in tears. When she heard of Mme. de Chartes illness, she only smiled, thinking of Rosalind making a misstep while her mother was unable to offer her guidance. She practically squealed with delight upon hearing the Marechal was being sent to war, as Rosalind would now be without her silent guardian. As the news reached her that the Mme. de Chartes was at death's door, she decided to render the woman's afterlife miserable with a promise to lead Mme. de Chartes' daughter to the Duke de Nemours bed.

Traveling incognito in a large cloak, she only showed her face to open doors, and crept into the Mme. de Chartes bedroom a little before midnight. Feeling a shadow hovering over her, the Mme. de Chartes started from her slumber.

"So, you leave your daughter in a loveless marriage, while the greatest man in Europe burns with passion for her, a passion that she returns," Diana said.

What little strength the Mme. de Chartes had left flared up in anger. No longer fearing the consequences of her words, she spoke plainly to Diana. "When I was a young girl, you seduced me, then left me alone to weep. I loved you, though I knew it to be wrong, to be a sin against both God and my husband, but I loved you, and I gave myself to you, and when you took what you wanted, you left. It wasn't enough for you though, you tried to seduce me again, so you could again pierce my heart to the quick."

Diana was not expecting this. She expected Chartes to tell her she would burn in hell, or to tell her she had prepared her daughter's heart against temptation. Instead, the dying woman had ripped open an old wound, and accused her of callousness. "How dare you say you love me. You fainted," she replied, angrily.

"I was raised in the church, and I feared Hell. If you had not left, I would have explained myself to you. I had to dress myself, and then sneak from the Louvre. I wanted to love you, even after you tore out my heart, I still wanted to go to you. I still..." Overcome, Mme. de Chartes turned her face into her pillow and began to weep.

Diana sat on the bed, and began to stroke the woman's hair. She could still see the young maid in Mme. de Chartes features, and still felt the warmth of the love she'd had for her. "I was wrong, I see that now," she said.

Mme. de Chartes looked up into Diana's eyes and saw they glittered with tears. "Why did you leave?"

"I was angry, and stupid and vain. All the men, even the King, they meant little to me. You were different," Diana said, and she took her handkerchief to dab away Mme. de Chartes tears. "You, I truly loved, and when you fainted I took it as an insult, that you would lay back to let me please you, but did not wish to please me."

Mme. de Chartes took the Duchess' hand and held it against her cheek. "I did wish to please you, even as you touched me, thought how beautiful your skin must be beneath your skirts."

"Is it too late to ask for your forgiveness, to say I still love you?" Diana said.

"I love you as well, despite all the reasons not to. If you promise to help my daughter, should she become involved with the Duke de Nemours, then I will forgive you."

Diana leaned down to kiss Mme. de Chartes feverish brow. "Should she become involved in gallantries, I will teach that young woman everything I know. The Marechal de St. Andre also has your daughter's best interest at heart. It is possible that their friendship could keep her from the Duke. Do not despair, Madame, you have raised a virtuous woman."

"I have raised a cold woman, numb to all but the greatest gallant, and then I married her to a kind sensible man, who is as exciting as a house cat."

Diana could not help herself, despite the gloom she tittered at Mme. de Chartes description of the Prince de Cleves. "I think it is that snide wit that first captured my heart," Diana said.

Mme. de Chartes smiled. "I wish I had not been so stubborn. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like had I replied to one of your notes."

The Duchess shook her head. "No, you were right to ignore me. I would have used you cruelly, I was angry. I should have gone to you, and simply talked with you," Diana said, raising Mme. de Chartes hand to her lips. "And now, it is too late. You...you are the only one I have ever loved, and I was impetuous, and foolish." The Duchess threw herself into the arms of Mme. de Chartes, and they held one another and wept.

Though her breath was sour with illness and death, Diana kissed Mme. de Chartes, a tender kiss. She traced her fingers over Mme. de Chartes frail body. "All of my bitterness, all of my hate, I let the guide me when I raised my daughter. I have cursed her to life of misery," Mme. de Chartes murmured

"No, no my love, do not say that. Who knows, once her passion for the Duke has faded, she may come to love her husband." Even as she spoke the words, Diana did not believe them. She regretted meddling in the young woman's marriage, making the girl suffer for the misunderstanding she had with her mother.

Diana spent an hour laying in Mme. de Chartes bed, caressing her, and giving her little kisses. As the fire burned low, she placed more logs in it. When Mme. de Chartes fever vexed her, she put a cold cloth on her brow. She promised to send a doctor by with a draught of opium to soften her last moments on earth, but Mme. de Chartes refused. When she left, they were both weeping, and continued to weep the next day.

It was a day before Diana was ready to admit anyone to her apartments, and three days before she left them.