Gil Blas, Alain-René Lesage [best romance ebooks .txt] 📗

Madame d’Olivarez stayed behind her husband some few days, with the intention of trying what her tears and entreaties might do towards his recall; but in vain did she prostrate herself before their majesties; the king paid not the least attention to her pleadings and remonstrances, though artfully adapted for effect; and the queen, who hated her mortally, took a savage pleasure in her tears. The minister’s lady, however, was not easily discouraged: she stooped so low as to solicit their good offices from the ladies of the bedchamber; but the fruit of all this meanness was only the sad conviction that it excited more contempt than pity. Heartbroken at having degraded herself by supplications so humiliating, and yet so unavailing, she departed to her husband, and mourned with him the loss of a situation, which, under a reign like that of Philip the Fourth, was little short of sovereign power.

The accounts her ladyship brought from Madrid were wormwood to the duke. “Your enemies,” said she, sobbing, “with the Duke of Medina Celi at their head, are loud in the king’s praises for your removal; and the people triumph in your disgrace with an insolent joy, as if the cloud of adversity were to be dispelled by the breath which dissolved your administration.”

“Madam,” said my master, “follow my example; suppress your discontent; we must drive before the storm when we cannot weather it. I did think, indeed, that my favor would only be eclipsed with the lamp of life⁠—a common illusion of ministers and favorites, who forget that they breathe but at the good pleasure of their sovereign. Was not the Duke of Lerma as much mistaken as myself, though fondly relying on his purple, as a pledge for the lasting tenure of his authority?”

Thus did my lord duke preach patience to the partner of his cares, while his own bosom heaved under the direct pressure of anxiety. The frequent despatches from Don Henry, who was staying about the court to pick up information, kept him continually on the fret. Scipio was the messenger; for he was still about the person of that young nobleman, though I had relinquished my post on his marriage. Sometimes we heard of changes in the inferior departments of office, solely for the purpose of wreaking vengeance on his creatures, and filling up the vacancies with his enemies. Then Don Lewis de Haro was represented as advancing in favor, and likely to be made prime minister. But the most mortifying circumstance of all was the change in the viceroyalty of Naples, which was taken from his friend, the Duke de Medina de las Torres, and bestowed on the High Admiral of Castile, who was his bitterest enemy. For this there was no other motive but the pleasure of giving pain to a fallen favorite.

For the first three months, his lordship gave himself up in his solitude a prey to disappointment and regret; but his confessor, a holy and pious Dominican, supporting his religious zeal with manly eloquence, succeeded in pouring the balm of consolation into his soul. By continually representing to him, with apostolic energy, that his eternal salvation was now the only object worth his care, he weaned him gradually from the uses of this world. His excellency was no longer panting for news from Madrid, but learning a new and important lesson, how to die. Madame d’Olivarez too, making a virtue of necessity, sought refuge for herself in the maternal guardianship of her convent, where Providence had reared up, for her edification in faith and good works, a sisterhood of holy maidens, whose spiritual discourses fed her soul, as if with manna in the wilderness. My master’s peace within his own bosom advanced, as he withdrew more backward from sublunary things. The employment of his day was thus laid out: almost the whole morning was devoted to religious duties till dinnertime, and after dinner, for about two hours, he played at different games with me and some of his confidential domestics; he then generally retired alone into his closet till sunset, when he walked round his garden, or rode out into the neighborhood either with his confessor or me.

One day when I was alone with him, and was particularly struck with his apparent self-complacency, I took the liberty of congratulating his lordship on his complete reconciliation to retirement. “Use, however late acquired, is second nature,” answered he; “for though I have all my life been accustomed to the bustle of business, I assure you that I become every day more and more attached to this calm and peaceful mode of life.”

A change in his lordship for the worse⁠—The marvellous cause, and melancholy consequences, of his dejection.

His excellency sometimes amused himself with gardening, by way of variety. One day, as I was watching his progress, he said, jokingly, “You see, Santillane, a fallen minister can turn gardener at last.”

“Nature will prevail, my lord,” answered I. “You plant and water something useful at Loeches, while Dionysius of Syracuse whipped schoolboys at Corinth.” My master was not displeased either with the comparison or the compliment.

We were all delighted at the castle to see our protector, rising above the cloud of adversity, take pleasure in so novel a mode of life: but we soon perceived an alarming change. He became gloomy, thoughtful, and melancholy. Our parties at play were all given up, and no efforts could succeed to divert his mind. From dinnertime till evening he never left his closet. We thought the dreams of vanished greatness had returned to break his rest; and in this opinion the reverend Dominican gave the rein to his eloquence; but it could not outstrip the course of that hypochondriac malady, which triumphed over all opposition.

It seemed to me there was some deeper cause, which it behooved a sincere friend to fathom. Taking advantage of our being alone together, “My lord,” said I, in a tone