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.