The Prince was pacing the floor of his cabinet like a madman.
"Did anyone ever see such a woman?" he cried.
"She is wanting in respect for me!"
The Duchessa replied with inimitable grace:
"Never in my life have I had a thought of shewing want of respect for His Serene Highness; His Highness has had the extreme condescension to say that he was speaking as a friend to friends.
I have, moreover, no desire to remain at Parma," she added, looking at the Conte with the utmost contempt.
This look decided the Prince, hitherto highly uncertain, though his words had seemed to promise a pledge; he paid little attention to words.
There was still some further discussion; but at length Conte Mosca received the order to write the gracious note solicited by the Duchessa.
He omitted the phrase: these unjust proceedings shall have no consequences in the future.
"It is enough," the Conte said to himself, "that the Prince shall promise not to sign the sentence which will be laid before him."
The Prince thanked him with a quick glance as he signed.
The Conte was greatly mistaken; the Prince was tired and would have signed anything.
He thought that he was getting well out of the difficulty, and the whole affair was coloured in his eyes by the thought:
"If the Duchessa goes, I shall find my court become boring within a week."
The Conte noticed that his master altered the date to that of the following day.
He looked at the clock: it pointed almost to midnight.
The Minister saw nothing more in this correction of the date than a pedantic desire to show a proof of exactitude and good government.
As for the banishment of the Marchesa Raversi, he made no objection; the Prince took a particular delight in banishing people.
"General Fontana!" he cried, opening the door a little way.
The General appeared with a face shewing so much astonishment and curiosity, that a merry glance was exchanged by the Duchessa and Conte, and this glance made peace between them.
"General Fontana," said the Prince, "you will get into my carriage, which is waiting under the colonnade; you will go to the Marchesa Raversi's, you will send in your name; if she is in bed, you will add that you come from me, and, on entering her room, you will say these precise words and no others:
'Signora Marchesa Raversi, His Serene Highness requests you to leave to-morrow morning, before eight o'clock, for your castello at Velleja; His Highness will let you know when you may return to Parma.' "
The Prince's eyes sought those of the Duchessa, who, without giving him the thanks he expected, made him an extremely respectful curtsey, and swiftly left the room.
"What a woman!" said the Prince, turning to Conte Mosca.
The latter, delighted at the banishment of the Marchesa Raversi, which simplified all his ministerial activities, talked for a full half-hour like a consummate courtier; he sought to console his Sovereign's injured vanity, and did not take his leave until he saw him fully convinced that the historical anecdotes of Louis XIV included no fairer page than that with which he had just provided his own future historians.
On reaching home the Duchessa shut her doors, and gave orders that no one was to be admitted, not even the Conte.
She wished to be left alone with herself, and to consider for a little what idea she ought to form of the scene that had just occurred.
She had acted at random and for her own immediate pleasure; but to whatever course she might have let herself be induced to take she would have clung with tenacity.
She had not blamed herself in the least on recovering her coolness, still less had she repented; such was the character to which she owed the position of being still, in her thirty-seventh year, the best-looking woman at court.
She was thinking at this moment of what Parma might have to offer in the way of attractions, as she might have done on returning after a long journey, so fully, between nine o'clock and eleven, had she believed that she was leaving the place for ever.
"That poor Conte did cut a ludicrous figure when he learned of my departure in the Prince's presence… . After all, he is a pleasant man, and has a very rare warmth of heart.
He would have given up his Ministries to follow me… . But on the other hand, during five whole years, he has not had to find fault with me for a single aberration.
How many women married before the altar could say as much to their lords and masters?
It must be admitted that he is not self-important, he is no pedant; he gives one no desire to be unfaithful to him; when he is with me, he seems always to be ashamed of his power… . He cut a funny figure in the presence of his lord and master; if he was in the room now, I should kiss him… . But not for anything in the world would I undertake to amuse a Minister who had lost his portfolio; that is a malady which only death can cure, and … one which kills.
What a misfortune it would be to become Minister when one was young!
I must write to him; it is one of the things that he ought to know officially before he quarrels with his Prince… .
But I am forgetting my good servants."
The Duchessa rang.
Her women were still at work packing trunks; the carriage had drawn up under the portico, and was being loaded; all the servants who had nothing else to do were gathered round this carriage, with tears in their eyes.
Cecchina, who on great occasions had the sole right to enter the Duchessa's room, told her all these details.
"Call them upstairs," said the Duchessa.
A moment later she passed into the waiting-room.
"I have been promised," she told them, "that the sentence passed on my nephew will not be signed by the Sovereign" (such is the term used in Italy), "and I am postponing my departure.
We shall see whether my enemies have enough influence to alter this decision."
After a brief silence, the servants began to shout:
"Evviva la Signora Duchessa!" and to applaud furiously.
The Duchessa, who had gone into the next room, reappeared like an actress taking a call, made a little curtsey, full of grace, to her people, and said to them:
"My friends, I thank you."
Had she said the word, all of them at that moment would have marched on the Palace to attack it.
She beckoned to a postilion, an old smuggler and a devoted servant, who followed her.