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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..32b4eaf --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50689 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50689) diff --git a/old/50689-8.txt b/old/50689-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c270fd7..0000000 --- a/old/50689-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16881 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's One in a Thousand, by George Payne Rainsford James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: One in a Thousand - or, The Days of Henri Quatre - -Author: George Payne Rainsford James - -Commentator: Laurie Magnus - -Release Date: December 14, 2015 [EBook #50689] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE IN A THOUSAND *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the University of Virginia) - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: - https://books.google.com/books?id=3LFEAAAAYAAJ - 2. Chapters misnumbered going from III. to V. - 3. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - -One in a Thousand -or -The Days of Henri Quatre - - - - - - -One _in a_ THOUSAND -_By_ -G. P. R. JAMES - - - -LONDON: -GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS LIMITED -MDCCCCIII - - - - - - -_The Introduction is written by_ LAURIE MAGNUS, M.A.; _the Title-page -is designed by_ IVOR I. J. SYMES. - - - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -George Payne Rainsford James, Historiographer Royal to King William -IV., was born in London in the first year of the nineteenth century, -and died at Venice in 1860. His comparatively short life was -exceptionally full and active. He was historian, politician and -traveller, the reputed author of upwards of a hundred novels, the -compiler and editor of nearly half as many volumes of letters, -memoirs, and biographies, a poet and a pamphleteer, and, during the -last ten years of his life, British Consul successively in -Massachusetts, Norfolk (Virginia), and Venice. He was on terms of -friendship with most of the eminent men of his day. Scott, on whose -style he founded his own, encouraged him to persevere in his career as -a novelist; Washington Irving admired him, and Walter Savage Landor -composed an epitaph to his memory. He achieved the distinction of -being twice burlesqued by Thackeray, and two columns are devoted to an -account of him in the new "Dictionary of National Biography." Each -generation follows its own gods, and G. P. R. James was, perhaps, too -prolific an author to maintain the popularity which made him "in some -ways the most successful novelist of his time." But his work bears -selection and revival. It possesses the qualities of seriousness and -interest; his best historical novels are faithful in setting and free -in movement. His narrative is clear, his history conscientious, and -his plots are well-conceived. English learning and literature are -enriched by the work of this writer, who made vivid every epoch in the -world's history by the charm of his romance. - -"The Man at Arms" tells the story of Jarnac and Moncontour, and ends -with the fatal day of St. Bartholomew. "Henry of Guise" takes up the -history of the Religious Wars, with sympathy chiefly for the -Catholics, and closes with the assassination of that great soldier; -then "One in a Thousand" resumes the tale just before the murder of -Henry III. and the battle of Ivry. The two former are rather short and -remarkably brisk in movement, this one is somewhat longer and much -more elaborate. It has a complex plot, a large crowd of characters -from both factious, and has evidently been worked out with, perhaps, -less vivacity but more pains. "Willingly" says the novelist, "we turn -once more from the dull, dry page of history ... to the more -entertaining and instructive accidents and adventures of the -individual characters which, with somewhat less skill than that of a -Philidore, we have been moving about on the little chess-board before -us." There is an ironical undermeaning here; but so far as James -suggests that his flagrant romanticism, mysterious dwarfs, princesses -disguised as pages, and battles prefigured in the thunder-clouds are -more interesting than his retelling of historical events and careful -portraiture of historical people, we must venture to dissent from him. -The fiction is simply his favourite story of a wealthy heiress held -out as a bait by the heads of rival factions to attract the allegiance -of two powerful nobles. We feel not the slightest anxiety as to the -ultimate happiness of the fair lady and the blameless lover, or the -appropriate fate of their enemies. On the other hand, the intimate -picture of the Leaguers at Paris, of the headquarters of Henry Quatre, -and more particularly the speaking likeness of the Duke de Mayenne, -the head of the Guises, are keenly interesting and real contributions -to the history of those times. Though the stage effects are well done, -this shows far more talent. With all his fierce ambition, his lack of -scruple, and his froward temper, the Duke stands out as a man, and is -infinitely more alive than the purely romantic characters; -furthermore, the family likeness between the various members of that -powerful house, the Guises, is admirably brought out in this series of -romances, and the figure of Henry of Navarre is not less well done, -though he is a personage that we meet with less rarely either in -James's novels or in those of other historical raconteurs. - - - - - - -ONE IN A THOUSAND; -OR, -THE DAYS OF HENRI QUATRE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Oh the confines of the two beautiful provinces of Maine and Touraine, -lies one of the sweetest valleys that the foot of man ever trod. The -hills by which it is formed are covered on one hand by a wood of -venerable oaks, while the other side offers a green slope only broken -occasionally by rocky banks; and on the summit of every eminence -stands out, in bold relief, a group of two or three young trees, -casting their deep, soft shadows on the velvet turf below. - -The eye of a traveller, placed at the northern extremity of the -valley, may trace its course winding on in varied beauty for nearly a -league to the southward; till at length the hills between the -acclivities of which it lies, seem to end abruptly in that direction, -but still without meeting; the one side terminating in a high rugged -rock, cutting clear and distinct upon the sky, and the other fringed -by the branches and foliage of the trees. Far away beyond--enframed, -as it were, by the opening of the valley--lies a rich, splendid -landscape, showing bright Touraine, with its plains, and woods, and -dells fading off in long misty lines of light and shade, till earth -and heaven blend in the blue obscurity of distance. - -Washing the roots of the trees on one side, and edged with a bank of -soft green moss on the other, a small limpid stream runs swiftly along -over a shallow bed of rocks and pebbles, and, like some spoiled child -of fortune, winds rapidly on amidst a thousand sweets and beauties, -still hurrying forward, careless of all the bright things that -surround its path. Such is the picture of that valley as I have seen -it within the last twenty years; but the tale I have to tell refers to -a period more remote. - -Down the steep, rugged bridle-road, which, descending sharply from the -brow of the more exposed hill, crossed the course of the valley and -the stream at nearly a right angle, and then, mounting the opposite -slope, made its way through the forest;--down that road, somewhere -near the end of April, 1589, a very handsome boy, seemingly about -sixteen years of age, took his path on foot. He was just at the time -of life when childhood and manhood meet--when sports, and pastimes, -and sweet innocence are cast away like faded flowers, and when we -first set the naked foot of inexperience on that burning and arid path -through the fiery desert of desire and disappointment, which each man -must tread, ere he reach the night's resting-place of the tomb. Not a -shade of down yet tinged his upper lip with the budding of the -long-coveted mustachio, and his face was smooth and soft; but there -was a flash and a fire in his splendid dark eye, which told that the -strong and busy passions that beset man's prime had already taken -possession of his heart. - -He was dressed in a vest of dark murrey-coloured cloth, bound with a -light edging of gold, and in large trunk breeches descending to his -knee, made of the same stuff, and ornamented in the same manner. His -cloak, which was more ample than was usual in those days, or than the -time of year required, was fastened by a buckle to the right shoulder, -and, being brought round under his left arm in the Italian mode, was -wrapped across his chest, without opposing any obstacle to the free -passage of his hand towards the hilt of his dagger or his sword. He -was, if anything, below the middle height, and slightly made; but in -his countenance there were all those signs and features from which we -are accustomed to argue the presence of high and daring courage: and, -perhaps, it might have been a safer task to attack many a man of -greater personal strength, and much more warlike appearance, than that -slight boy, with his light active limbs, and quick remarking eye. - -On the summit of the hill he paused for a moment, and gazed over the -country which he had left behind, as if looking anxiously for some -expected sight; and then, muttering the words, "Negligent varlets!" he -resumed his path down the side of the hill. After wandering for a -short space along the margin of the shallow stream, seeking for a -place where he might cross its fretful waters, without wetting the -light buskins that covered his feet, he sat down upon the mossy bank -under the shade of a clump of oaks, seemingly wearied with his walk, -and, pulling off his boots and stockings, dipped his feet in the -rivulet to cool and refresh them. Laying his broad-plumed hat by his -side, he leaned back against the broken bank, from which sprang the -oaks that shaded him; and, with the water still rippling over his -feet, and the chequered light and shade of the green leaves above -playing on his broad fair brow, he seemed to give himself up to one of -those fanciful dreams ever so busy with the brain of youth. - -It was certainly a spot and an hour to dream in. It was the noon of a -bright spring day. Every bird of the season was singing its sweetest -song in the forest opposite or in the trees above his head; and his -seat was carpeted with the meek-eyed wood anemone, the soft blue -periwinkle, the daisy, the primrose, and the violet, together with a -thousand other flowers, the sweetest children of the early year, whose -very birth and being are one of the brightest themes that nature -offers to imagination. And yet the youth's meditations did not appear -to be pleasant ones. Whatever was the chain of thought that bound his -mind, there was upon his countenance an expression of sad and painful -gloom, which gradually changed, like the hues of a red and stormy -sunset, to the deeper signs of wrath and indignation. Sometimes he -gazed heavily upon the stream, with an eye all unconscious of the -flashing waters before it; and then again, as some sterner feeling -seemed to take possession of his heart, his brow would knit, his lip -would quiver, and his eye would flash like a young tiger in its -spring. Soon, however, the thoughts--whatever they were--which gave -rise to such emotions, passed away; and, hanging down his head, sadder -sensations seemed, in turn, to occupy his breast. A bright drop rose -and glittered in his eye, and the quick blood mounted hastily into his -cheek, as if ashamed of the passion he had shown, though he knew not -that any one was near to witness its expression. - -Whether the passing emotions by which he had been agitated were marked -or not, his progress from the top of the hill to the spot where he sat -had not been unobserved; and the next moment a rustling sound, -proceeding from the bushes on the opposite side of the stream, -startled him from his reverie. Bounding up like a frightened fawn, he -fixed his eyes upon the trees in the direction from which the noise -had proceeded; but the thick foliage concealed for the time the object -which alarmed him; though, by the continuance of the sound, and the -waving of the boughs, it was evident that some large body was making -its way towards the side of the river. The next instant the figure of -a man emerged from the wood, and then that of a horse, whose bridle, -cast over the stranger's arm, afforded the means of leading it forward -along the narrow footpath which they had been treading. The leisurely -pace at which both man and horse proceeded gave no signs of intentions -actively hostile towards any one; and although those were days in -which dangers were to be found in every field and in every road, yet a -moment's thought seemed to have made the youth ashamed of the timid -start which the stranger's approach had occasioned. Colouring highly, -he sat down again upon the bank, and applied himself busily to replace -his boots and stockings, without vouchsafing a look towards the other -side of the stream. - -"When you have done, my fair youth," said the stranger, after gazing -at him for a minute from the opposite bank, "will you answer me a -question?" - -"If it suit me, and if I can," replied the youth, looking up into the -stranger's face for the first time. - -That face was not one to be seen without exciting in those who beheld -it, more and more agreeable sensations than are usually called up by -the blank countenances of the great mass of mankind--too often -unlettered books, where mind and feeling have scarcely written a -trace. The features on which the lad now gazed were strongly marked, -but handsome; the broad expanse of the high, clear forehead, the open -unbent brow, the bright speaking eye, and the full arching lips, -conveyed at once to the untaught physiognomist which watches and -reasons at the bottom of every man's heart, the idea of a candid -and generous mind. There was much intelligence, too, in that -countenance--intelligence without the least touch of cunning--all -bright, and clear, and bold. - -The stranger was about the middle height, and, apparently, had seen -four or five and thirty summers: they might be less or more; for -circumstances, so much more than time, stamp the trace of age upon the -external form, as well as upon the heart and feelings, that it is -often difficult to judge whether the wrinkles and furrows, which seem -to have been the slow work of years, are not, in reality, the marks of -rapid cares or withering passions. In his face were several lines -which might well have borne either interpretation; but still, neither -his dark brown hair, nor his thick glossy beard, offered the least -evidence of time's whitening hand. His dress was a simple riding suit, -the green hue of which appeared to bespeak, either for profit or -amusement, a devotion to the chase. The same calling seemed denoted by -a small hunting-horn, which hung by his side; and his offensive arms -were no more than such sport required. He wore, however, a hat and -high white plume, instead of the close unadorned bonnet generally used -in the chase; and his horse, too, a deep bay barb, had less the air of -a hunter than of a battle charger. - -"My question is a very simple one, good youth," he said, while a -slight smile curled his lip, excited by a certain degree of -pettish flippancy which the boy displayed in replying to his first -address:--"Did you meet a troop of reitters just now, as you came over -the hill? and which way did they take?" - -"I did meet a troop of Dutch vagabonds," replied the boy, boldly: -"villains that foolish Frenchmen hire to cut foolish Frenchmen's -throats! and as to the way they took, God 'a mercy! I watched them -not." - -"But from yon hill you must have seen which road they went," replied -the stranger. "I am one of those foolish Frenchmen whom you mention, -and an inoffensive person to boot, whose throat would have but small -security under the gripe of these worthy foreigners. One of them I -might deal with--ay, two--or three, perchance; but when they ride by -scores, and I alone, I see not why the green wood should not cover me, -as well as many a brave boar or a stout stag. I pray thee, therefore, -good youth, if thou sawest the way they took, let me know it, for -courtesy's sake; and if thou sawest it not, why, fare thee well! I -must take my chance." - -For a moment or two the boy made no reply, but measured the stranger -from head to foot with his eye; somewhat knitting his brow, as he did -so, with a look of some abstraction, as if his mind were too busy with -what he saw to heed the incivility of his long-protracted stare. -"Yes," said he, at length, speaking apparently to himself, "yes;" and -then, addressing the stranger, he demanded abruptly, "whither go you?" - -"Nay, good youth! nay!" replied his companion; "these are not -times--nor France the country--nor this the spot of all France--in -which a man would choose to trust the first person he meets, with -where he goes or what he goes for. I ask you not your road--ask me not -mine. If you can answer my question, whether the band of reitters took -the path to Tours, or wound under the hill towards La Fleche, do so, -and I will thank you; if not, once more farewell!"--and, without -putting foot in stirrup, he sprang upon his horse's back. - -"Answer your question I cannot," replied the boy, with a degree of -calm earnestness that seemed to speak greater interest in the stranger -than he had at first evinced; "but I can do more for you," he -proceeded. "Where the reitters went I did not see, for I hid myself -behind the rocks till they were past; but I can show you paths where -no reitters will ever come. Often have I flown my hawk across those -plains," he added in an explanatory tone, as if he wished to recommend -his guidance to the stranger by showing how his acquaintance with the -country had been acquired;--"often have I followed my hound through -these valleys, in other days long gone; and I know their every turning -better than my father's house." - -"In other days!" said the stranger; "why thou art now but a boy!" - -"True," replied the youth; "yet I may have known other days, and -happier ones--but to my purpose. What I offer you, I offer knowing -what I am doing:" and he fixed Ins eyes upon the stranger's face with -a meaning, but not a disrespectful, glance, and then proceeded: "Tell -me whither you would go. I will conduct you thither in safety, and -will not betray you, upon my honour!" - -"In faith, I believe I must even trust you," replied the stranger. -"There are many who, with wise saws and cautious counsels, would -fain persuade me to be as prudent, and as careful of my life, as a -great-grandmother of eighty years and upwards. But life, at best, is -but as gold, a precious thing given to be spent. Whip me all misers, -whether of their purse or of their safety, say I; and, therefore, boy, -you shall be my guide, though you should give me over to all the -reitters that ever the factious house of Lorraine brought to back the -treason which they call piety." - -"I will give you over to no reitters," replied the boy; "so be your -mind at ease." - -"Odds life! it is seldom otherwise than at ease," rejoined the other: -"my heart is a light one, and will not be heavy now, as I ride on -beside thee; though I may have caught thy tongue tripping, my fair -boy. Thou art no Frenchman, or thine accent sorely belies thee." - -"Now do you think me both a German and a reitter, I warrant!" replied -the youth, with a playful smile, and a toss back of his dark hair. -"But cannot your ear distinguish between the hoggish twang of the -Teutonic gutturals, and the soft music of the Italian liquids?" - -"Methinks it can," replied the stranger; "but, whether German or -Italian, Switzer, or even Spaniard, thou shalt be my guide. Knowest -thou the chateau of the Marquis of St. Real?" - -The youth started. "Do I know it!" said he, "do I know it!" then -suddenly seeming to check, in full career, some powerful feelings that -were in the very act of bursting from his heart to his lips, he added, -more calmly, "I know it well! I know it well! Willingly will I show -you your road thither, and, perhaps, may name my guerdon by the way; -but it is too far a journey for me on foot in one day." - -"We will buy thee a horse, my fair boy," replied the stranger: "I must -be at St. Real this night, and at Tours ere noon to-morrow; so we will -buy thee a horse at the first village where we can find one." - -"An ass will serve my turn as well as the best Barbary steed," said -the youth; "and the one will be more easily found than the other; for, -what between the League and the Huguenots, there are more asses in -France than any other kind of beast--so now let us on our way." - -Returning into the road from which he had strayed to wash his feet, -the boy stepped lightly, from stone to stone, across the stream, and -soon stood on the same side with the traveller. He, on his part, as if -unwilling to save himself fatigue by continuing to ride while the -youth walked by his side on foot, once more dismounted; and they then -turned their steps up the broad way which led through the forest to -the top of the hill, descanting, as they went, on the fineness of the -day, the beauty of the scene, and all the ordinary topics which -furnish conversation to those who have few subjects in common; but -each avoiding, as if by mutual consent, any allusion to the purpose or -station of his companion. - -It was, as we have said, as fair and sunshiny an April day as ever -woke since first the beautifying will of the Almighty robed the hills -with verdure, and spread out loveliness as a garment over earth. The -trees that, springing from the high broken banks on either side, -canopied the road with their green boughs, were living and tuneful -with all the birds of spring. There is not a cheerful feeling in the -heart of man that might not there have found some sweet note to wake -it into harmony. The air was balm itself--soft, yet inspiring like the -breath of hope; and the dancing light and shade, that chequered the -long perspective up the hill, had something in it gay and sportive, -which--joined with the song of the birds, and the sparkling glee of a -small fountain that, bursting from the midst of the road, rushed in a -little diamond rivulet down to the stream below--addressed itself to -all the purer sources of happiness in the human breast, and spoke of -peace and joy. Both the journeyers, however, were grave; although the -one was in the early spring of youth--that bright season of man's life -where every pulse is light; and although each line in the countenance -of his companion spoke that constitutional cheerfulness which is the -most blessed auxiliary that this world can afford to aid man in -maintaining his eternal warfare against time and circumstance. - -At the top of the ascent, a wide and magnificent scene lay stretched -beneath their eyes. The hill was not sufficiently high, indeed, to -afford one of those map-like views, in which we see all the objects -spread out over a vast extent in harsh and unshadowed distinctness, -like the prospect of life and of the world which we take, when in -mature age, after having passed through the illusions of youth and the -passions of manhood, we gaze upon the past and the present, and see -the hard, cold, naked realities of existence without a softening shade -or an enlivening hue. Still the elevation was sufficient to let the -eye roam wide over scenes where line after line, in sweet variety, -presented a continual change of beautiful forms, softening in tint, in -depth of colour, and in distinctness of outline as the objects became -more remote, and forming a view such as that which is offered to the -eye of youth, when after having climbed over the light ascent of -boyhood, the joys of existence, grouped together without its cares, -are first presented to the sight, one beyond another, to the very -verge of being, all lighted up by hope, and coloured by imagination. - -"Run your eye," said the youth, "over that ocean of green boughs which -lies waving below us, to that tree-covered mound which starts high -above the rest. In a straight line beyond you catch the spire of -Beaumont en Maine, at the distance of nearly four leagues; and a -little farther to the right, upon a woody hill, you may see the dark -towers of the chateau of St. Real." - -His companion gazed on in the direction which he pointed out, and then -replied, "I once knew this land well, and could have marked out in it -many a fair field either for the chase or the battle; but other scenes -have made me forget it. Our memory is but like a French crown-piece, -since so many kings have been called, one after another, to rule this -unhappy land. First, one figure is strong upon it; then it goes to the -mint, and a new king's head drives out the other, and keeps its place, -till something fresh is stamped upon it again; while, all the time, -traces of former impression may be seen below, but indistinct and -meaningless. Ay! there is Beaumont en Maine, and there the chateau of -St. Real; I remember them now: but what is that massive building, with -that large square keep, still farther to the right?" - -The youth fixed his eyes upon it, and remained silent for more than a -minute: he then replied, abruptly, "That chateau belongs to the Count -d'Aubin. Let us on!" - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Memory is like moonlight, the reflection of brighter rays emanating -originally from an object no longer seen; and all our retrospects -towards the past times, as well as our individual remembrances, -partake in some degree of the softening splendour which covers small -faults and imperfections by grand masses of shade, and brings out -picturesque beauties and points of interest with apparently brighter -effulgence than even when the full sunshine of the present beaming -upon them, suffers at the same time the eye to be distracted, and the -mind otherwise engaged by a thousand minor particulars. Nothing gains -more, perhaps, from the impossibility of close inspection than the -manners, the customs, and the things of the past; and, in some -instances, even Nature herself, and Time, that enemy of man's works, -in general so remorseless, seem to take a fanciful pleasure in -assisting the illusion. That which was in itself harsh and rude in -form, acquires as it decays, a picturesque beauty which it never knew -in its prime; and the rough hold of the feudal robber, which afforded -but small pleasure to behold, and little convenience to its inmates, -is now seen and painted with delight, fringed with wild flowers -scattered from Nature's bountiful hand and softened with the green -covering of the ivy. - -The old chateau of St. Real, to which the two travellers we have just -left were bending their steps, and to which, for a moment, we must now -shift the scene, was one of those antique buildings, few of which have -outlasted the first French revolution--buildings which, however we may -love to look upon any that do remain, from the magical illusion -regarding former days to which I have just alluded, were, -nevertheless, much better suited to the times in which they were -built, than to the more luxurious present. - -Tumults, feuds, insurrections, civil wars, rendered every man's house -his castle in no metaphorical sense; and thus the old chateau of St. -Real, which had been originally built more than 400 years before the -opening of this history, and had been repaired and improved at least a -hundred times during the intervening ages of strife and bloodshed, was -naturally, in almost all respects, much better calculated for defence -against assault than for comfortable habitation. The woody chase, -which swept for many a mile round the base of the little hill on which -it stood, was cleared and opened in the immediate vicinity of the -chateau; and the various avenues were defended with all the accuracy -to which the art of war had arrived in those times. The very garden -was a regular fortification; the chateau itself a citadel. From the -reign of Louis VI., in which its walls had first been raised from the -ground, to the reign of Henry III. with which this tale begins, -although repairs and improvements had, as we have said, been often -made, they were solely military, and nothing had in the slightest -degree been permitted which could change the antique aspect of the -place. Indeed, its proprietors, the Marquises of St. Real, springing -from the most ancient race of French nobility, clung to the antiquity -of their dwelling as if it formed a part and parcel of the antiquity -of their family. Their habits, their manners, their characters, -smacked all of the ancient day; and it was ever with pain that they -suffered any of their old customs to be wrenched from them by the -innovating hand of improvement. - -At their gate, even in the times I speak of, hung, for the purpose of -summoning the warder to the wicket, the last horn which, perhaps, was -ever used on such occasions in France; and, though the mouthpiece had -been renewed, and the chain frequently mended, the horn itself was -averred to be the very same which had been hung there in the days of -Philip Augustus. But if the lords of St. Real still maintained some -tinge of the rudeness of their ancestors, it must by no means be -forgotten that it was to the nobler and brighter qualities of former -times that they adhered most strongly. They were a proud but a -chivalrous race, bold, hospitable, courteous, generous, unswerving in -faith and in honour. Their talents, which were by no means -inconsiderable, had been principally displayed in the field; and some -of the sneerers of the court had not scrupled to call them the _Simple -St. Reals_: but, notwithstanding a degree of simplicity, which -certainly did characterise them, they had ever been distinguished, -from father to son, by that discriminating discernment of right and -wrong which is worth all the wit in the world. Never had their word -been pledged without being redeemed; never had their voice sanctioned -a bad action; never had their sword supported an evil cause. - -The present Marquis of St. Real, who was an old man who had borne arms -under Francis I. had during the whole of the wars of the League -remained obstinately neuter. He had declared, at the commencement of -these unhappy wars, that he would not unsheathe his sword against his -lawful sovereign, though friendly to the King of Navarre, and allied -remotely to the house of Bourbon; but at the same time he added, that -nothing should ever induce him to join in an unjust and cruel war -against a portion of his countrymen, who were but defending one of the -dearest and most unalienable rights of mankind--their religious -liberty. - -Too powerful for either party to entertain the hope of forcing him -from his neutrality by any violent measures, both the League and the -Huguenots spared no means of conciliation, which either wisdom or -cunning could suggest, to win him to their side; for vast domains, in -which the feudal customs of former times remained in full force, -rendered his alliance a thing to be coveted even by the strongest. He -remained unmoved, however; and neither a strong personal friendship -which existed between himself and the Duke of Mayenne, nor the -instigations and artifices of his confessor, could induce him to join -the League, any more than gratitude to the King of Navarre for several -personal favours, horror at the crimes of Saint Bartholomew, or even a -strong belief that the Protestants were right in their warfare, if not -in their religion, could bring him over to the party of the Huguenots. - -To avoid wearisome solicitation, he had entirely abandoned the -capital, and remained in the solitude of his paternal estates, wholly -occupied in the education of his son, into whose mind, as principles, -he endeavoured to instil, not knowledge of the world, or of courts, -but all the firm and noble feelings of his own heart. He succeeded; -the Chevalier de St. Real grew up to manhood everything that his -father's fondest hopes could have anticipated: bold as a lion, skilled -in all warlike exercises, and full of every sentiment that does honour -to human nature. But yet, in many things, he was as simple as a child. -Cut off from the general society of Paris, he wanted entirely that -knowledge of the world which was never more necessary than in the days -in which he lived. - -On one occasion, indeed, when the infamous Catherine de Medicis, and -her beautiful but licentious train, had visited the chateau of St. -Real for the purpose of winning its lord to the party she espoused, -more than one of her fair syrens had striven, by various arts, to -initiate the handsome Chevalier of St. Real into the libertine -mysteries of that debauched court; but he met them uniformly with that -perfect simplicity which, though joined with much natural good sense, -raised many a secret laugh at his expense, and yet guarded him -effectually from their worst artifices. - -The general current of his time flowed on in the various amusements of -the country, as they existed in that age. The chase of the boar, the -stag, and the wolf afforded active exercise for the body, while the -large and ancient library of the chateau--a rare treasure in those -days--yielded occupation to a quick imagination and an energetic mind, -in poring over many a printed tome and many an illuminated manuscript. -Besides these employments, however, both the old lord of St. Real and -his son felt a keen interest in pursuits seldom much attended to by -the feudal nobility of France. They not only lived in the country, and -amongst their peasantry, but they also loved the country and their -peasantry, and delighted in watching and superintending all those -agricultural operations which formed the daily relaxation of many of -the noblest Romans, but which were, in general, looked upon with -indifference, if not contempt, by the new class of chieftains who -sprung from the _élite_ of their barbarous conquerors. The lords of -St. Real delighted in all: they held to the full the opinion of the -old orator, when he exclaimed--"Nec vero segetibus solum et pratis, et -vineis, et arbustis res rusticę lętę sunt, sed etiam hortis et -pomariis, tum pecudum pastu, apium examinibus, florum omnium -varietate;" and, though they followed not precisely all the directions -of Liebaut in his _Maison Rustique_, the garden that lay within the -flanking walls of the castle, the orchard which extended from the -outer balium to the barbacan, and the trellised avenue of vines which -ran to what was called the lady's bower, showed taste as well as skill -in those who had designed and executed them. - -During several years previous to the precise epoch at which we have -commenced our tale, the old lord of St. Real had seldom, if ever, -slept a night without the walls of his own dwelling. His son, however, -when either business, or that innocent love of a temporary change, -which every man may well feel without meriting the charge of being -versatile, afforded a motive for his absence from home, would often -spend a day or two in the great city of Tours, or at the castles of -the neighbouring nobility. Some communication with the external world -was thus kept up; but the chief companionship of the Chevalier of St. -Real was with his cousin-german the Count d'Aubin, who, though -attached to the court, and very different in mind and character from -his relations, often retired for a while from the gay and busy scenes -in which he mingled, to enjoy the comparative solitude of his estates -in Maine, and the calm refreshing society of his more simple cousin. - -The character of Philip Count d'Aubin was one that we meet with every -day. Endowed with passions and talents naturally strong, his passions -had been pampered, and his talents misdirected, by an over-indulgent -parent. A doubt had been at one time entertained of the legitimacy of -his birth, but no one had contested his title; and the early -possession of wealth, power, and influence, with the unrestrained -disposal of himself and of the property which the death of his father -left in his hands, had certainly tended in no degree to curb his -desires or extinguish his vanity. His heart had, perhaps, been -originally too feeling; but the constant indulgence of every wish and -fancy had dulled the former brightness of its sensations; and it was -only at times that the yet unextinguished fight shone clearly up to -guide him through a maze of errors. His very talents and shrewdness -often led him onwards in the wrong: for, possessing from education few -fixed principles of action, the energies of his mind were generally -turned to the gratification of his passions; and it was only when -original rectitude of heart suggested what was good, that reason too -joined her voice to urge him on the road of virtue. He was, in fact, -the creature of impulse; but, as he had unfailing gaiety, and wit at -will, and as a sudden turn of feeling would often lead him to some -noble or brilliant action, a sort of false, but dazzling, lustre hung -about his whole conduct in the eyes of the world: his powers were -overrated, and his weaknesses forgotten. He was the idol and -admiration of the young and unthinking, and even the old and grave -often suffered the blaze of some few splendid traits to veil the many -spots and blemishes of his character. - -On the night following that particular day at which it has appeared -necessary to commence this history, the two cousins spent some time -together pacing up and down the great hall of the chateau of St. Real. -The Count d'Aubin had come hastily from Paris, on receiving tidings of -the severe illness of his uncle; and their conversation was of a -wandering and discursive nature, originating in the increasing -sickness of the old Marquis, who was then, for the first time during -many days, enjoying a few hours' repose. - -"Faith, Huon, thy father is ill," said D'Aubin, as they descended the -stairs to the hall, "far worse than I deemed him till I saw him." - -"He has, indeed, much fallen in strength during the day," replied the -Chevalier de St. Real; "yet I hope that this slumber which has come -upon him may bring a change for the better." - -The Count shook his head. "I know not," said he; "but yet I doubt it. -Your father, Huon, is an old man, and old men must die!" His cousin -bent his eyes upon the ground, and slightly contracted his brow; but -he did not slacken his pace, and the Count d'Aubin went on: "Yes, -Huon, however we may love them, however we may wish that they could -live to govern their own vassals and enjoy their own wealth, till -patriarchal longevity were no longer a wonder; and I know," he added, -pausing, and laying his hand upon his cousin's arm--"and I know, that -if the best blood in your noble heart could add to your father's life, -you would pour it forth like useless water;--still, whatever ties may -bind them to us, still they are, as the old men amongst the ancients -did not scruple to call themselves, _pabulum Acherontis_--but food for -the tomb: and none can tell when death may claim his own. I say this -because I would have you prepared in mind for an event which I see -approaching; and I would also have you prepared to take some quick and -immediate part in the great struggle which every day is bringing -towards its climax in this land. Your father's neutrality has -lasted long enough--nay, too long; for it is surely a shame that -you, as brave a youth as ever drew a sword, should have lived to -five-and-twenty years without ever having led his followers to any -nobler strife than the extermination of those miserable _Gaultiers_ -who came to ravage our fair plains. True, they were ten times your -number--true that you defeated them like a very Orlando; but that is -only another reason why your valour and your skill should not lie -rusting in inactivity. Should your father die, give sorrow its due; -then call your vassals to your standard, and boldly take one part or -another. Faith, I care not which it be--Harry of Navarre and his -Huguenots, Harry of France and his chevaliers, or Mayenne's brave Duke -and the factious League: but for Heaven's sake, Huon, should fate make -you Marquis of St. Real, cast off this idle, sluggardly neutrality." - -Huon de St. Real had listened attentively to his cousin, though every -now and then the flash of some painful emotion broke across his -countenance, as if what he heard contained in each word something -bitter and ungrateful to all his feelings. "Philip! Philip!" said he, -pausing in his quick progress through the hall, as soon as the other -had ceased speaking, "I know that you wish me well, and that all which -you say proceeds from that wish; but let us drop this subject -entirely. My father is ill--I feel too bitterly that he is in danger; -but the bare thought of what I would do with his vassals, in case of -his death, has something in it revolting to every feeling of my heart. -Let us change the topic. Whatever misfortune Heaven may send me, I -will endeavour to bear like a man, and whenever I am called to act, I -will endeavour to act rightly. When that time comes, I will most -willingly seek your advice; but I trust it will be long, very, very -long, before I shall need the counsel of any other than of him who has -heretofore guided and directed me." - -The lip of the Count d'Aubin slightly curled at this reply; and, -glancing his eye over the tall, graceful form of his cousin, while he -compared the simple mind and habits of St. Real, with his own worldly -wisdom, and wild erratic course, he mentally termed him an overgrown -baby. Nevertheless, although he was often thus tempted to a passing -scoff or an ill-concealed sneer, yet there was a sort of innate -dignity in the very simplicity of the Chevalier of St. Real, which had -its weight even with his world-read cousin; and, whenever temporary -disappointment, or disgust, or satiety weaned D'Aubin awhile from the -loose society in which he mingled, gave time for quiet thought, and -re-awakened better feelings, leading him to seek, in the advice of any -one, support against the treacherous warfare of his own passions, it -was to none of his gay companions of the capital, nor to monk, nor -priest, nor confessor, that he would apply for counsel; but rather to -his simple, frank-hearted, unsophisticated cousin, St. Real. - -"Well, well," said he, "let us change our theme;" and then, after -taking two or three more turns in the hall, he went on; though there -was mingled in his manner a certain natural hesitation with an -affected frankness, which might have shown to any very close observer -of human nature that the Count d'Aubin was touching upon matter in -regard to which, desire was in opposition to some better principle, -and that he feared to hear even the opinion which he courted. "I spoke -but now," he continued, "of Mayenne and the League; and you will think -it strange when I tell you, that I--I, who have ever been as staunch a -royalist as Epernon, or Longueville--would now give a chateau and a -pint of wine, as the vulgar have it, to change my party and go over to -the League, did not honour forbid it." - -He spoke slowly and meditatively, fixing his eyes upon the ground, -without once looking in his cousin's face; yet walking with a firm, -strong step, and with somewhat of a sneer upon his lip, as if he -scoffed at himself for the reprehension which--while he acknowledged -wishes that he felt to be wrong--his proud spirit suffered by -comparison with the calm, upright integrity of the Chevalier. - -"I do not see that anything could justify such a step," replied St. -Real, far more mildly than the other had expected. "However wrongly -the King may have acted, however unwarrantable the manner in which he -has put to death the Duke of Guise, yet--" - -"Pshaw!" interrupted his cousin: "Guise was a traitor--a great, brave, -noble, ambitious, unscrupulous traitor! And though the mode of his -death was somewhat unceremonious, it little matters whether it was an -axe or a dagger which did the work of justice: he was born for such a -fate. I thought not of him; it was of Eugenie de Menancourt I -thought." - -"Ha!" exclaimed St. Real, with a start; "no one has injured her?" - -"Injured her! No, i'faith!" replied the Count. "Why, my good cousin, -by your grim look, one would deem you her promised husband, and not -me. No, no; had she been injured, her injury had been well avenged by -this time. However, she is in the hands of the League. Her father, as -you know, was wounded on the day of the barricades, and died soon -after the flight of the court. His daughter, of course, would not -leave him while he lived, and, at his death, the Duchess of -Montpensier would fain have had her at the Hotel de Guise; and, though -Eugenie wisely stayed in her father's own house, they would not suffer -her to quit Paris, where she still remains--treated with all honour -and courtesy, mark you, but still a sort of honourable prisoner." - -His cousin paused in thought for a moment, and then replied, "But, -surely, if you were to demand her from the Duke of Mayenne, informing -him of the engagement between her father and yourself, she would be -given up to you at once." - -"I have done more," replied the Count; "whenever I heard of her -situation, I required, of course, that she should be placed in the -hands of the King, as her lawful guardian, till such time as her -marriage with myself could be celebrated. After many an evasion and -delay, the Duke replied to my application, that the throne of France -was vacant, by a decree both of the Sorbonne and the Parliament of -Paris; that, by the same authority, he himself was lieutenant-general -of the kingdom till such time as a meeting of the three estates should -regulate the government; and that, therefore, none other was for the -time the lawful guardian of Eugenie de Menancourt. In the same letter -he informed me, that the recent death of the young lady's father would -prevent her from thinking of marriage for some time." - -D'Aubin paused, shutting his teeth and drawing in his lips, evidently -unwilling to show the full mortification and anger which these -remembrances awoke; and, yet apparently leaving his tale unfinished. - -"In regard to the latter part of the Duke of Mayenne's reply, it seems -to me reasonable enough," answered the Chevalier de St. Real; "the -loss of such a father is not to be forgotten in a day." - -"Tut, man!" exclaimed his cousin, impatiently. "Wilt thou never -understand a little of this world's ways? Huon, Huon! shut up in these -old walls, thou art as ignorant of the present day as if thou hadst -been born in the times of the first crusade. Nothing modern dare blow -that rusty horn at thy gate--far less walk into the hall. Know, then, -my most excellent, simple cousin, that since the ninth century a great -quarrel has taken place between words and realities, and that they -have separated, never to meet again; that now-a-days promises are of -air, honour is a name, virtue a bubble, religion a mask; and while -falsehood, hypocrisy, and folly walk about in comely dresses, and make -bows to each other in every street, truth lies snug in the bottom of -her well, secure in the narrowness of her dwelling, and the depth that -covers her. The first thing that every one thinks of now is his own -interest; and, sure that if he secures that, the world will give him -credit for all high qualities, he works straight for that one object. -Interest, interest, interest, is his waking thought and his sleeping -dream. Mark me, Huon! Mademoiselle de Menancourt is an heiress--one of -the most wealthy in France; young, beautiful!--you know how beautiful, -Huon; for, by my faith, I could once have been almost jealous of you." - -"Of me!" exclaimed the other, stopping suddenly, and looking full in -his cousin's face, while a flush of surprise and indignation, all -unmixed with shame, spread scarlet over his cheek and brow. "Of me! -Philip, you do me great injustice! By my honour, if my hand or my word -could advance your marriage by a single day, you would find both ready -for your service. Tell me, when did I ever give you a moment's cause -for jealousy?" - -"Nay, nay! you are too quick!" replied the Count; "I said not that I -was jealous of you; I merely said I could have been so, had I not -known you better. I speak of the time when our late excellent and -easy-virtued queen was here with her ladies. Many a bright eye was -bent upon you, and many a sweet lip was ready to direct you through -the tangled but flowery ways of love, without seeking to plunge you -into the mire of matrimony; yet, in all our rides, there were you, -always at Eugenie's bridle rein." - -"Because she was the only pure thing present," interrupted St. Real, -quickly; "and because, Philip--if you will press me--I thought that -she might feel hurt that her promised husband should make love before -her face to one of an infamous queen's infamous followers. Ay, even -so, Philip! Frown not on me, good cousin; for such was the only -interpretation that even I, who am not apt to see actions in their -worst light, could place upon your conduct to Beatrice of Ferrara." - -"Beatrice of Ferrara," replied the Count d'Aubin, with a degree of -vehemence which might have made some of his loose companions smile to -hear him use it in the vindication of any woman's virtue under the -sun--"Beatrice of Ferrara was no infamous follower of an infamous -queen; she was, I believe from my soul, as pure as snow, -notwithstanding all the impurity that surrounded her. I knew not that -I had shown her any such marked attention as you tell me; but let all -that pass," he added, musing, "let all that pass: what were we -speaking of before? O! I remember. To return, then, to my tale: -Eugenie de Menancourt is an heiress, with a dowry of beauty and -sweetness far beyond even her wealth; and wily Mayenne well knows that -her hand is a prize for the first man in France. Now, think you, my -good Huon," he continued, growing more and more eager, while the -bright flashing of his eye told that he was moved by some stronger -passion than the mere scorn with which he attempted to clothe his -lips--"now, think you, my good Huon, though he talks so loudly about -religion and zeal, and the state's welfare, that Mayenne has one -other wish, one other object, than to vault into an empty throne, or -play _maire du palais_ to the old idiotic Cardinal de Bourbon! -Ambition--'tis all-snatching ambition, Huon! that is the idol he -worships; and whoever serves him in his schemes shall have the hand of -Eugenie de Menancourt, notwithstanding her father's plighted word to -me." - -"But Eugenie will never consent," replied St. Real, calmly. -"Doubt it not, Philip! I have known her from her childhood, as -well as you; and I have often remarked, that, notwithstanding her -gaiety--notwithstanding her seeming lightness of feeling, there was, -when she knew herself to be right, an unchangeable determination in -all her resolves, even in her childhood, that nothing could shake." - -"Fie! you know nothing of human nature," replied D'Aubin, with a -scoff; "or rather, I should say, of woman's nature. They are -light--light, Huon, as a dry leaf borne about upon the breath of every -wind that blows. The best of them, believe me, is firm in nothing but -her caprices. Mark me, Huon!" he added, laying his hand upon his -cousin's arm, and speaking with bitter emphasis, "within these ten -days I have seen Mademoiselle de Menancourt. I demanded a pass from -Mayenne; he granted it without a scruple, and free speech also of his -fair ward, as he called her. He was sure of the impression he had -made, and, therefore, kept up all fair seeming. I saw Eugenie; and she -calmly and coldly refused to ratify the promise that her father had -made me. Do you hear? She refused me! She rejected me! She told me she -did not, she could not love me!" And, giving way to a violent burst of -passion, totally opposed to the calm and contemptuous tone in which he -had before been speaking, he dashed his glove angrily down upon the -floor, as if it were the object that offended him. - -His cousin looked down in silence. He imagined, and not without -probability, that Mademoiselle de Menancourt must have seen the -licentious manner in which D'Aubin had trifled with the ladies of -Catherine's libertine court, and that she had resented it accordingly. -But, however culpably he might deem that his cousin had acted, he -would not have pressed it on him then for the world; and, besides, -there were sensations in his own bosom, at that moment, which forcibly -called upon his attention, and both surprised and alarmed him. - -It is a strange thing the human heart; and, amidst the multitude of -its inconsistencies and its weaknesses, there is none stranger than -that principle which, as a French wit has remarked, is always ready to -point out to us, in the sorrows and misfortunes of our friends, some -topic of consolation for ourselves. As a general rule the sneer is -unjust, though with many it holds good always, and with most at times, -even with the highest and the most conscientious. Good, noble, -generous, with chivalrous ideas of honour and virtue, the Chevalier of -St. Real would sooner have laid his head upon the block than -entertained a thought of doing anything to his cousin's detriment; and -yet there was a degree of vague, undefined satisfaction in his -feelings, when he heard the declaration made by Eugenie de Menancourt, -that she did not and could not love the Count d'Aubin--satisfaction of -which he himself felt ashamed. "Good God! was it for him," he thought, -"to rejoice in his cousin's mortification? What matter for pleasure -ought he to find in the pain of a person he loved? None, surely none. -What is it, then, I feel?" he asked himself; "is it the triumph of -having foreseen that Eugenie de Menancourt would resent the slight put -upon her? Oh, no! Such a vanity can surely afford no gratification to -any reasonable being." Such was the interrogation which St. Real -rapidly addressed to his heart; but an instinctive apprehension of -finding unknown and dangerous matter at the bottom of his own -sensations prevented him from going deep enough. - -Whatever it was that he felt, the blood rushed into his face as if he -were committing some evil action; and he remained silent. The keen, -suspicious eyes of the Count d'Aubin fixed upon him, in surprise at -emotions that he did not comprehend; but he said nothing; and just as -St. Real was struggling to speak, the whole place echoed with two such -blasts upon the old horn at the gate, as had not rung amongst those -halls for many a year. - -"By heavens! that must be some drunken huntsman, St. Real," exclaimed -the Count, "blowing the horn at the gate, as if he was sounding for -his dogs." - -"No, no! it is the ill-favoured dwarf you gave me," replied his -cousin. "He heeds no decencies, and, I verily believe, would blow a -flourish if we were all dying. Many a time have I thought to fell him -with my gauntlet for his insolence; but he is so small, that it would -seem a cruelty to crush such an insect." - -"Nay, nay; crush him not, I beseech thee," replied the Count d'Aubin. -"Remember, Huon, it was agreed between us, that when he seeks to quit -thee, or thou growest tired of him, he comes to me again." - -"I believe, in truth, the creature loves me," answered St. Real; "and, -were it not for his stupid insolence, I might love him too; for there -are traits of good about him which would redeem many a dark spot." - -The Count's lip curled; but he replied, "Call it not _stupid_ -insolence, good cousin--call it, rather, clever insolence, for, on my -soul, he was occasionally too clever for such a service as mine, and -such a place as Paris. I know not well how it happened, but many a -deep secret of my bosom seemed somewhat too familiar to his high -ugliness; and so I gave him to you, who had no secrets to trust or to -conceal." - -"Thank God for that, at least!" answered St. Real, "for they are ever -a heavy burden. But here comes the incubus:" and as he spoke, the low -door of the hall was opened by a personage of whom it may be necessary -to speak more fully. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -The personage concerning whom the last sentences were spoken, and who -now entered the hall, was not more than three feet six inches in -height,[1] but perfectly well formed in every respect, except that the -head, as is very usual with persons of his unfortunate description, -was somewhat too large for the size of the body it surmounted. His -former lord had spoken of his ugliness; but although his face was -certainly by no means handsome, yet there was nothing in it -approaching deformity. Between "the human face divine" and that of the -monkey, our great original, there are a thousand shades and varieties -of feature; and the countenance of the dwarf, it must be admitted, was -at the very far extreme of the chain, and at the end nearest the ape. -A pair of sparkling black eyes, and two rows of very fine white teeth, -however, rendered the rest of his features less disagreeable, but by -no means diminished his resemblance to the animal. Whether from a -consciousness of this likeness, and a desire to hide it as far as -possible, or from a sort of conceited foppery not uncommon, the dress -of this small man was as scrupulously elegant as the taste of that day -would admit. His beard and mustachios, which were soft and silky, were -most accurately trimmed. His hair, thrust back from his face, exposed -his large and somewhat protuberant forehead; while his pourpoint, -composed of deep blue cloth, was slashed with primrose silk, to favour -a somewhat dingy complexion. Sword and dagger he wore at his girdle; -and all the chronicles of those days bear witness that he well knew -how to use--and to use fearlessly--the weapons intrusted to his small -hands. - -His whole appearance produced a strange and not pleasant effect upon -those who saw him. The want of harmony between his size and his form -was constantly forcing itself upon attention. Could one have magnified -him, he would have appeared a very well-dressed cavalier, according to -the fashions of the times; and, had there not been something in his -whole form and air that bespoke manhood, one might have looked upon -him as a smart child; but, as it was, one felt inclined to smile as -soon as the eye fell upon him, though there was in his demeanour but -few of those absurdities by which many of his class of beings render -themselves ridiculous. He had neither strut nor swagger, smirk nor -simper; and the only thing which in any degree tended to render his -aspect peculiar, besides the fact of his diminutive form, was a -certain cynical smile which ever hung more or less about his lips, as -if, from a consciousness of superior talent or superior cunning, he -scorned the race which, for their superior corporeal qualities, he -hated; or rather, perhaps, as if he were ever prepared to encounter -their contempt for his inferior size by contempt for their inferior -acuteness. - -He entered the hall with ease, if not with grace; but, perhaps, with -more of what may be termed boldness than either. To St. Real, as his -actual master, he bowed low, and to the Count d'Aubin still lower, -accompanying the inclinations of his head, in this instance, with a -keen and significant glance, which, had the Chevalier de St. Real been -of a suspicious nature, might have made him place but little -confidence in an attendant of his cousin's recommending. But he -himself had nothing to conceal, and, as yet, feared not that any one -should see his inmost thoughts; for he was one of those few men who -know no other use for words than to express their feelings. - -"Why did you blow the horn so loud, Bartholo?" demanded St. Real, -"when you well knew that my father lies so ill?" - -"I did it, noble sir," replied the dwarf, "lest the cooks, and the -pages, and the concierge at the door should lose a jest and fit of -laughter--rare things in the castle of St. Real. I knew full well that -some one would cry out, 'Hear what a great sound can be made by a -little body!' and it would be unjust to disappoint the poor fools in -the offices, for fear of disturbing the rich gallants in the hall. -But, by my faith, I had another reason, too, which is worth looking -to. There was a traveller came with me, and an ass, and an ass's -burden." - -"Was it the surgeon for whom I sent you?" asked St. Real, eagerly; -"the new surgeon from Tours?" - -"Seeing that my eyes and the surgeon are innocent of all intercourse," -replied the other, "I cannot tell you, noble sir, whether it be he or -not. The man was not in his dwelling when I reached it, so I left my -message, and rode further; and, as I came back, what should I see, -half a mile hence, but the white feather of this man's hat waving in -the dark night, and not knowing its way to the chateau of St. Real. I -asked him what party he was of, whither he was going, and if he had -passport or safe conduct. He answered, short enough, that he belonged -to his own party, had no passport but his sword and his right hand, -and was coming hither. So, whether he were surgeon or not, let those -judge that are wise! I asked no further, but brought him hither, and -left him in the green arras room, as he seemed no way dangerous, and -wished to see either the Marquis or the Marquis's son in private." - -"It is either a reitter seeking service, or a quack-salver seeking the -sick," cried the Count d'Aubin. "Go to him--go to him quick, Huon! He -will whip you the gold lace off the hangings, either for his pocket or -his crucible. So go to him, and leave me the dwarf to jest withal." - -With the quick and impatient step which anxiety produces in the young -and active, St. Real bent his steps towards the chamber to which he -had been directed by the dwarf, hoping, notwithstanding the -description which had been given of the person who awaited him, that -he might prove the surgeon who had been sent for in aid of the -ordinary medical assistance attending upon his father. - -The room which he now entered was a small one, hung with arras of a -dark-green hue, that served to absorb the greater part of the light -afforded by a single lamp. The stranger had cast himself into a large -chair at the farther end of the chamber, and, in the half obscurity, -his person and features were but faintly seen; but nearer, and in the -full light, sat the youth whom we first found washing his feet in one -of the neighbouring streams. He seemed fatigued with journeying, and -leaning listlessly against a small table under the lamp, suffered his -head to rest upon his hand, showing a profusion of jetty curls falling -thick round his brow, while the cap and feather which he had worn -without was now thrown upon the ground beside him. The person whom he -had accompanied, however, retained his hat and high white plume, and -made no movement to rise as St. Real entered. - -The eyes of the young noble first rested upon the boy; but immediately -turning towards the elder of his two visitors, he advanced towards -him, without noticing the apparent incivility of his demeanour. When -he had taken two steps forward, however, St. Real paused; and then, -with an exclamation of surprise, was again advancing, when the -stranger rose, saying, "Ha, Monsieur St. Real, I did not know you at -first. Ventre Saint Gris! I had forgot that ten years makes a boy a -man." - -"If I am not mistaken, I see his Majesty of Navarre," said the -Chevalier; "and only grieve that my father is not capable of bidding -him welcome, with all the goodwill that we entertain towards himself -and his royal house." - -"Henry of Navarre, indeed!" replied the monarch; "as poor a King as -lives, St. Real, but one who grieves sincerely at your father's -illness. I trust that it is not dangerous, however, and that I shall -yet see him ere I depart; for to that purpose I have been forced to -steal me a path amidst bands through which I should have found it hard -to cut me a way, and to do that singly which I dared not attempt with -many a stout soldier at my back." - -"My father sleeps, my lord," replied St. Real; "'tis the first sleep -that he has known for many a day, and I would fain----" - -"Wake him not--wake him not for me!" interrupted the King. "To-morrow -I must hie me back to Tours; but in the meanwhile I can well wait his -waking, and will crave some refreshment for myself and this good -youth, who has guided me hither, and who seems less able to bear -hunger and long riding than Henry of Navarre." - -"I will order such poor fare as our house affords to be placed before -your Majesty directly," replied St. Real, "though I fear me much that -the two surgeons and a priest, together with a _gentilhomme serjent_ -from La Fleche, are even now busy in despatching all that is already -prepared." - -"Let us join them! let us join them by all means!" cried the King; "by -my faith I would never choose to dine where better cheer is usually to -be found, than in company with surgeons and with priests. The first -are too much accustomed to the care of other people's bodies to -neglect their own; and the others, though they limit their special -vocation to the preparation of souls for the other world, are not -without care for the preservation of the corporeal part in this. But -our horses, St. Real--they stand in the court-yard: that is to say, my -horse, and this good youth's more humble charger in the shape of an -ass." - -St. Real turned his eyes upon the youth while the King spoke; and -after having replied that he would give instant orders for Henry's -equipage of all kinds to be attended to, added, still looking at the -boy, "Your Majesty's page, I suppose?" - -"If so, but the page of a day," replied the King; "but, nevertheless, -though of so short an acquaintance, I can say that he seems as good a -boy as ever lived, has guided me here through many dangers, with more -wit and more courage too than most would have shown, and is by far too -wise to prefer the service of a poor king to that of a rich lord. In -short, St. Real, it seems that he was coming here when I met with him; -and as his sole guerdon for the pains he has taken, he required me to -advocate his cause with your father, to have him received as a page in -your household." - -"My father," said St. Real, in reply, "has a mortal aversion to pages, -ever since the Queen was here with more than half a score, and will -only suffer two in his household--his own stirrup page, and mine, a -dwarf given me by my cousin Philip." - -"Nay, nay, you must not refuse my first request, St. Real," said the -King; "for I have many another to make ere I have done, and if I halt -at the first step, I shall never be able to walk through the rest of -the list." - -"Oh! I never dreamed of refusing your Majesty so trifling a thing," -replied the other; "but we must give him some other name than page. -What will you be, my boy? You are too young and too gay-looking for a -valet in such a dull house as this." - -"And too noble," added the youth, "or too proud, if you will. I seek -not, sir, to take wages of any man; but I seek to pass a time in some -house where the hearts are as noble as the blood they contain, where -old feelings are not forgot in new follies; and I would fain that that -house were the chateau of St. Real." - -"You speak well, good youth, and more like a man than a boy; but -somewhat too haughtily too," replied St. Real. - -"I will speak more humbly when I am your follower," answered the -youth, colouring a good deal; "to those who would raise me up, I can -be as humble as the dust, and to those who would cast me down, as -proud as a diamond. I sought to be your father's page, my lord," he -added, in a softer tone; "because I heard much of him, and because all -that I did hear showed him as a man blending so equally in his nature -goodness and nobility, that love and reverence must be his followers -wherever he bend his steps." - -Something very like a tear rose in St. Real's fine clear eye, and the -youth proceeded. "I am grieved that aught should have grieved you, -sir, on his account; but still let me beseech you to take me into his -service. You know not," he added, eagerly, "how kindly I can tend -those I love; how I can amuse the weary hours of sickness, and while -away the moments of pain. I can read him stories from ancient lore, -and from many a language that few pages know. I can tell him tales of -other lands, and describe places, and things, and nations that he has -never seen. I can sing to him sweet songs in tongues that are all -music, and play to him on the lute as none in this land can play." - -"Enough! enough!" cried Henry; "by my life, St. Real, if you do not -conclude your bargain with the boy quickly, I will step in and try to -outbid you in your offers; for if he but perform his undertaking with -you as well as he has done with me, you will have a page such as never -was since this world began." - -"He was ours, my lord, from the first moment that your Majesty -expressed a wish that he should be so," replied St. Real. "There is my -hand, good youth, and it shall ever give you aid and protection at -your need. But tell me, what is your name? for although, as in the old -times, we let our guests come and go in the chateau without question; -yet, of course, I must know what I am to call _you_." - -"Leonard," answered the youth; "Leonardo, in my own land; but here in -France, men call me Leonard de Monte." - -"I thought I heard a slight Italian accent on your lips," said St. -Real; "but tell me, have I not seen you as one of the pages of Queen -Catherine's court?--a court," he added, almost regretting that he -had yielded to the King's request, "a court, not the best school -for----" But there again he paused, unwilling to hurt the feelings of -any one, and seeing a flush come over the boy's face, as if he already -anticipated the bitter censure that court so well deserved. The -youth's answer made him glad that he had paused. - -"I know what are in your thoughts, sir," he replied; "but I beseech -you speak no evil of a mistress who is now dead, and who was ever kind -to me. Let her faults lie in the grave where she lies, and let men -forget them as soon as they forget virtues. As for myself, I may have -faults too; but they have never been those of the persons amongst whom -I mingled; I have neither learned to lie, nor to flatter, nor to -cheat, nor to run evil messages, nor give sweet hints. If, then, I -have lived amidst corruption and come out pure----" - -"You are gold tried in the fire," rejoined St. Real, laying his hand -upon his shoulder; "and I will trust you, my good youth, as much -convinced by the tenderness of your speech towards her who is no more, -as by your defence of yourself----. But this matter has kept your -Majesty too long," he added, "and by your permission I will now -conduct you to the lesser hall, where these four persons are at -supper; though I cannot but think that you had better suffer me to -order you refreshments here." - -"Nay, nay, I will sup with chirurgeons by all means," replied Henry, -laughing, "and we will forget that there is such a thing as a king, if -you please, St. Real; for I would not have it blazed abroad that I am -wandering about without an escort, or I might soon find myself in the -castle of Amboise. Call me Maitre Jacques, if you please, for the -present time, and let us make haste; for if I am to gauge the appetite -of those worthy doctors by my own, they will have devoured the supper -ere we reach the hall." - -"Permit me, then, to show the way," replied St. Real; "seek out my -dwarf, Bartholo, good youth," he added, turning to the page, "and bid -him find you lodging and refreshment, as he values my favour. But I -will see more to your comfort myself shortly; for the villain is -sometimes insolent, and may be spiteful too, like most of his race, -though I never have marked it." - -The youth bowed his head without other reply, and St. Real proceeded -to conduct Henry of Navarre, afterwards so well known as the frank and -gallant "Henri Quatre," along the many long and dimly lighted passages -of the chateau of St. Real, towards a small hall in one of the -farthest parts of the building. - -"Maitre Jacques! remember I am Maitre Jacques!" said Henry, as the -young noble laid his hand upon the lock; "and you must not only make -your words call me so, but your demeanour also, St. Real." - -"Fear not! fear not!" answered St. Real, in a low tone; "I will be as -disrespectful as you can desire, sire." - -Thus saying, he opened the door, exposing to view the interior of what -was called the little hall, which presented a scene whereon we may -dwell for a single instant; for, though the picture which it displayed -of the callous indifference of human nature to the griefs and -sufferings of others, is not an agreeable one, it was not new enough -even then to excite wonder, and is not old enough now to be omitted. -The master of the house was dying, and his family full of sorrow at -the approaching loss of one who had been a father to all who -surrounded him; but there, in the little hall, was collected, in the -persons of the surgeons, the priest, and the lawyer, attendant upon -the dying man, as merry a party as it had ever contained. The hall, -though it was called little, was only so comparatively; for its size -was sufficient to make the table at which the feasters sat look like a -speck in the midst. Nevertheless, it was well lighted; and St. Real -and his royal companion, as they entered, could plainly see the man of -law holding up a brimming Venice glass of rich wine to one of his two -shrewd eyes, while the hall was echoing to some potent jest that he -had just cast forth amongst his companions. Even the carver at the -buffet, and the serving man who was filling up the wine for the rest, -were shaking their well-covered sides at the joke; and the priest, -though repressing as far as possible the outward signs of merriment, -was palating the _bon mot_ with a sly smile, and had perhaps a covert -intention of using it himself secondhand, whenever he could find -occasion. For a minute or two the party at the table did not perceive -the entrance of any other persons, or concluded that those who did -enter were servants; and their conversation went on in the same light -tone which had evidently predominated up to that moment. - -As soon, however, as St. Real and his guest appeared, matters assumed -a different aspect; and solemn ceremony and respect took the place of -merriment. Seats were soon placed; and Henry, while engaged in -satisfying the hunger that a long day's journey had occasioned, failed -not by some gay and sportive observations to bring back a degree of -cheerfulness: but the natural frank liveliness of the King's heart was -controlled, or rather oppressed, by many an anxious thought for -himself, and by feelings of kindly and sincere sympathy with the young -noble who sat beside him. St. Real, on his part, did not affect to -feel aught but deep anxiety; and, after their entrance, the merriment -of the party in the hall was very much sobered down from its previous -elevated tone, giving way, indeed, in the breasts of the lawyer and -the surgeons, to many a shrewd conjecture in regard to the profession -and object of their new comrade Maitre Jacques. - -In the meantime, the page stood where St. Real and the King had left -him, supporting himself against the table in an attitude of much -grace, but one which spoke deep and somewhat melancholy thought. His -head leaned upon his bosom, his hand fell listlessly by his side, his -eyes strained with the deep and intense gaze of anxious meditation -upon one unmeaning spot of the marble floor; and thus, without the -slightest motion, he continued so long in the same position, that he -might have been taken for some fanciful statue tricked out in the gay -dress of that time, had not every now and then a deep sigh broke from -his bosom, and evinced the conscious presence of life and all its -ills. - -Near a quarter of an hour elapsed without his taking the slightest -notice of the lapse of time. The steps of his new master and the -prince had long ceased to sound through the passages, other noises had -made themselves heard and died away again; but the youth remained -apparently unconscious of everything but some peculiar and absorbing -facts in his own situation. His reverie was, however, at length -disturbed, but apparently not unexpectedly, though the stealthy step -and silent motions with which the dwarf Bartholo advanced into the -room in which the youth stood, had brought him near before the other -was aware of his presence. For a moment after their eyes had met -neither spoke, though there was much meaning in the glance of each; -and at length the youth made a silent motion of his hand towards the -door. The sign was obeyed at once; and the dwarf, closing the door -cautiously, returned with a quick step, suddenly bent one knee to the -ground, and kissed the hand the boy extended towards him. - -"So, Bartholo," he said, receiving this somewhat extraordinary -greeting as a thing of course, "so! you see that I am here at length!" - -"I do," replied the dwarf, rising; "but for what object you are come I -cannot conceive." - -"For many objects," answered the youth; "but one sufficient to myself, -is that I am near those that I wish to be near; and can watch their -actions--perhaps see into their thoughts. If I could but make myself -sure that St. Real really loves the girl! that were worth all the -trouble." - -"But the risk! the risk!" exclaimed the dwarf. - -"The risk is nothing, if my people are faithful to me," answered the -youth sharply; "and woe be to them if they are not! Why came you not as -I commanded, but left me to wait and wander in the neighbourhood of -Beaumont, and nearly be taken by a party of reitters, in the pay of -Mayenne?" - -"I could not come," answered the dwarf; "for I was sent to seek a -chirurgeon from Tours for the old man, who lies at the point of death. -I made what haste I could; but missed you, and could not overtake you -till you had nearly reached the chateau." - -"And is the old Marquis, then, so near the end of a long good life?" -asked the youth. "There are some men whose deeds are so full of -immortality, that we can scarce fancy even their bodies shall become -food for worms. But so it must be with the best as well as with the -worst of us." - -"Even so!" answered the dwarf; "but as to this old man, I have not -seen him with my own eyes for this many a day; but the report runs in -the castle that he cannot long survive." - -"His death would come most inopportunely for all my plans," replied -the youth; "it would place me in strange circumstances: and yet I -would dare them, for I have passed through still stranger without -fear. I feel my own heart strong--ay, even in its weakness; and I will -not fear. Nevertheless, see you obey my orders better. You should have -sent some other on your errand, and not have left me to the mercy of a -troop of reitters." - -"Crying your mercy," said the dwarf, with a significant grin, "I -should have thought that your late companion might have proved as -dangerous." - -"Dare you be insolent to me, sir?" cried the youth, fixing his -full dark eye sternly on the dwarf. "But, no; I know you dare -not, and you know me too well to dare. But you are wrong. Whatever -may be the faults of Harry of Navarre--all reprobate heretic as he -is--nevertheless he is free from every ungenerous feeling; and -although I might think I saw a glance of recognition in his eyes, yet -I harbour not a fear that he will betray me or make any ill use of his -knowledge, even if he have remembered me." - -"Are you aware, however," asked the dwarf, lowering his voice and -dropping his eyes--"are you aware that the Count d'Aubin is here?" - -"No, no!" cried the youth, starting. "No, no! Where--where do you -mean? I know that he is in Maine, but surely not here." - -"In this very house," answered the dwarf--"in the great hall, not a -hundred yards from the spot where we now stand." - -"Indeed!" said the other, musing. "Indeed! I knew that he was near, -and that we should soon meet; but I did not think to find him here. -Look at me, Bartholo! look at me well! Think you that he would -recognise me? Gold, and embroidery, and courtly fashions, are all laid -aside; and I might be taken for the son of a mechanic, or, at best, -for the child of some inferior burgher." - -"I knew you at once!" answered the page emphatically. - -"Yes, yes; but that is different," replied he whom we shall take the -liberty of calling by the name he had given himself, although that -name, it need scarcely be said, was assumed; "but that is different," -replied Leonard de Monte. "You were prepared to know me; but I think -that I am secure with all others. Why, when I look in the mirror, I -hardly know myself." - -The dwarf gazed over the person of him who was evidently his real -master, however he might, for some unexplained purposes, affect to be -in the service of others--and after a moment, he replied, with a shrug -of the shoulders, "It may be so indeed. Dusty, and travel-soiled, and -changed, perhaps he would not know you; and were you to put on a high -fraise, instead of that falling collar, it would make a greater -difference still in your appearance." - -"Quick! get me one, then" cried the youth; "I will pass before him for -an instant this very night, that his eye may become accustomed to the -sight, and memory be lulled to sleep. See, too, that all be prepared -for me to lodge as you know I would." - -"I have already marked out a chamber," answered the dwarf, "and have -curried favour with the major-domo, so that he will readily grant it -to the new page at my request." - -"Where is it?" demanded the youth. "You know I am familiar with the -house." - -"It is," replied the dwarf, "one of the small chambers, with a little -ante-chamber, in the garden tower." - -"Quick, then! Haste and ask it for me," exclaimed Leonard de Monte. -"The young lord bade me apply to you for what I needed; so you can -plead his order to the master of the chambers. Then bring me the -fraise speedily, ere I have time to think twice, and to waver in my -resolutions." - -With almost supernatural speed the dwarf did his errand, and returned, -bearing with him one of those stiff frills extended upon whalebone -which are to be seen in all the portraits of those days. The youth -instantly took it from his hand; and, concealing the falling collar of -lace, which was for a short period the height of the fashion at the -court of Henry III., and which certainly did not well accord with the -simplicity of the rest of his apparel, he tied the fraise round his -neck, and advanced to a small mirror in a silver frame that hung -against the arras. "Yes, that does better," he exclaimed--"that does -better. Now, what say you, Bartholo?" - -"That you are safe," answered the page--"that I should not know you -myself, did I not hear your voice." - -"Well, then, lead through the hall, if Philip of Aubin be there." -replied the youth; "and when I am in my chamber, bring me a wafer and -a cup of wine; for I am weary, and must seek rest." - -The dwarf opened the door, and led the way, conducting his young -companion across the great hall, up and down which the Count d'Aubin -was pacing slowly and thoughtfully. - -"Who have you there, Bartholo?" demanded the young noble as they -passed. - -"Only a page, my lord," replied the dwarf; and they walked on. The -Count looked at the page attentively; but not the slightest sign of -recognition appeared on his face; and, though the youth's steps -faltered a little with the apprehension of discovery, he quitted the -hall, satisfied that his disguise was not seen through. As soon as -they reached the door of the small chamber, which was to be -thenceforth his abode, Bartholo left him, to bring the refreshment he -had ordered; and as the dwarf passed by the door of the hall once -more, and heard the steps of the Count pacing up and down, he paused -an instant, as if undecided. "Shall I tell him?" he muttered between -his teeth, "shall I tell him, and blow the whole scheme to pieces? But -no, no, no; I should lose all, and with him it might have quite the -contrary effect. I must find another way;" and he walked on. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -The Chevalier de St. Real, according to the ideas of hospitality -entertained in those days, pressed the King of Navarre to his food, -and urged the wine upon him; but scarcely had Henry's glass been -filled twice, ere the sound of steps hurrying hither and thither was -heard in the hall, and the young noble cast many an anxious look -towards the door. It opened at length, and an old servant entered, -who, approaching the chair of his young lord, whispered a few words in -his ear. - -"Indeed!" said St. Real; "I had hoped his sleep would have lasted -longer. How seems he now, Duverdier?--is he refreshed by this short -repose?" - -"I cannot say I think it, sir," replied the servant; "but he asks -anxiously for you, and we could not find you in the hall." - -"I come," answered St. Real; and then turning to the King, he added, -"My father's short rest is at an end, and I will now tell him of your -visit, sir. Doubtless he will gladly see you, as there is none he -respects more deeply." - -"Go! go! my young lord," cried Henry; "I will wait you here, with -these good gentlemen. Let me be no restraint upon you. Yet tell your -father, my good lord, that my business is such as presses a man's -visits on his friends even at hours unseasonable, else would I not ask -to see him when he is ill and suffering." - -The young lord of St. Real bowed his head and quitted the apartment; -while Henry remained with the other guests, whose curiosity was not a -little increased in regard to who this Maitre Jacques could be, by the -great reverence which seemed paid to him. They had soon an opportunity -of expressing their curiosity to each other, in the absence of the -object thereof; for in a very few minutes the Chevalier of St. Real -returned, and besought Henry to "_honour_ his father's chamber with -his presence." The King followed with a smile; and when the door of -the little hall was closed behind them, laid his hand upon St. Real's -arm, saying, "You are no good actor, my young friend." - -"I am afraid not," replied St. Real, in a tone from which he could not -banish the sadness occasioned by his father's illness; "yet I trust -what I said may in no degree betray your Majesty." - -"No, no," answered Henry, "I dare say not; and should you see any -suspicions, St. Real, you must either--in penance for having shown too -much reverence for a king, in an age when kings are out of all -respect--you must either keep these gentry close prisoners here till I -have reached Tours, and thence made a two-days' journey Paris-ward, or -you must give me a guard of fifty men to push my way through as far as -Chartres." - -"It shall be which your Majesty pleases," replied St. Real; "but here -is my father's chamber." - -The spot where they stood was situated half way up a long passage -traversing the central part of the chateau of St. Real, narrow, low, -and unlighted during the day by anything but two small windows, one at -each extreme. At present two or three lamps served to show the way to -the apartments of the sick man, at the small low-framed doorway of -which stood an attendant, as if stationed for the purpose of giving or -refusing admittance to those who came to visit the suffering noble. -The servant instantly threw back the plain oaken boards, clasped -together by bands of iron, which served as a door, and the next moment -Henry found himself in the ante-chamber of the sick man's room. The -interior of the apartment into which he was now admitted was much -superior in point of comfort to that which one might have expected -from the sight of such an entrance. The ante-chamber was spacious, -hung with rich though gloomy arras, and carpeted with mats of fine -rushes. One or two beds were laid upon the ground for the old lord's -attendants; and on many a peg, thrust through the arras, hung trophies -of war or of the chase, together with several lamps and sconces which -cast a considerable light into the room. The chamber beyond was kept -in a greater degree of obscurity, though the light was still -sufficient to show the King, as he passed through the intermediate -doorway, the faded form of the old Marquis of St. Real, lying in a -large antique bed of green velvet, with one thin and feeble hand -stretched out upon the bed-clothes. At the bolster was placed one of -those old-fashioned double-seated chairs which are now so seldom seen, -even as objects of antiquarian research; and, from one of the two -places which it afforded, an attendant of the sick rose up as Henry -entered, and glided away into the ante-room. St. Real paused and -closed the door between the two chambers; and Henry, advancing, took -the vacant seat, and kindly laid his hand upon that of his sick -friend. - -"Why how now, lord Marquis?" he said, in a feeling but cheerful tone; -"how now? this is not the state in which I hoped to find you. But, -faith, I must have you better soon, for I would fain see you once more -at the head of your followers." - -The Marquis of St. Real shook his head, with a look which had neither -melancholy nor fear in its expression, but which plainly conveyed his -conviction that he was never destined to lead followers to the field -again, or rise from the bed on which he was then stretched. Nor, -indeed, although the young monarch spoke cheerful hopes--did he -entertain any expectations equal to his words. The Marquis of St. Real -was more than eighty years of age; and though his frame had been one -of great power, and in his eyes there was still beaming the light of a -fine heart and active mind, yet time had bowed him long before, and -many a past labour and former hardship in the Italian wars had broken -the staff of his strength, and left him to fall before the first -stroke of illness. Sickness had come at length, and now all the powers -of life were evidently failing fast. The features of his face had -grown thin and sharp; his temples seemed to have fallen in; and over -his whole countenance--which in his green old age had been covered -with the ruddy hue of health--was now spreading fast the grey ashy -colour of the grave. - -"Your Majesty is welcome!" he said, in a low, faint voice, which -obliged Henry to bend his head in order to catch the sounds; "but I -must not hope, either for your Majesty or any one else, to set lance -in the rest again. I doubt not," he continued, after a momentary -pause--"I doubt not that you have thought me somewhat cold-hearted and -ungrateful, after many favours received at your hands, and at those of -your late noble mother, that I have not long before this espoused the -cause of those whom I think unjustly persecuted. But I trust that you -have not come to reproach me with what I have not done, but rather to -show me now how I can serve you in my dying hour; without, however, -even then forgetting the allegiance I owe to the crown of France, and -my duty to her monarch." - -"To reproach you I certainly have not come, my noble friend," answered -Henry; "for I have ever respected your scruples, though I may have -thought them unfounded. Nevertheless, what I have now to tell you will -put those scruples to an end at once and for ever. The cause of Henry -of Navarre and of Henry III. of France are now about to be united. My -good brother-in-law, the King, has written to me for aid----" - -"To you!--to you!" exclaimed the Marquis, raising his head feebly, and -speaking with a tone of much surprise. - -"Ay, even to me," answered Henry. "He found that he had misused a -friend too long, that too long he had courted enemies; and, wise at -length, he is determined to call around him those who really wish well -to him and to our country, and to use against his foes that sword they -have so long mocked in safety. I am now on my way to join him with all -speed, while my friends and the army follow more slowly. As I -advanced, I could not resist the hope that enticed me hither--the hope -that, when justice, and friendship, and loyalty are all united upon -our side, the Marquis of St. Real, to whom justice, and friendship, -and loyalty were always dear, will no longer hesitate to give us that -great support which his fortune, his rank, his renown, and his -retainers enable him so well to afford." - -"When Henry of Navarre lends his sword to Henry of France, how should -I dream of refusing my poor aid to both?" answered the Marquis. "When -_you_ refuse not to serve an enemy, sir, how should _I_ refuse to -serve a friend? But my own services are over. This world and I, like -two old friends at the end of a long journey, are just shaking hands -before we part; but I leave behind me one that may well supply my -place. Huon, my dear son, are you there?" - -"I am here, sir," said the young lord, advancing: "what is your will, -my father?" - -"My son, I am leaving you," replied the Marquis. "I shall never quit -this bed; another sun will never rise and set for me. I leave you in -troublous times, Huon, in times of difficulty and of sorrow; but that -which now smoothes my pillow at my dying hour, and makes the last -moments of life happy, is the fearless certainty that, come what may, -my son will live and die worthy of the name that he inherits; and will -find difficulty and danger but steps to honour and renown. So long as -injustice stained the royal cause, and cruelty and tyranny drove many -a noble heart to revolt, I would take no part in the dissensions that -have torn our unhappy land; though God knows I have often longed to -draw the sword in behalf of the oppressed; but now that the crown -calls to its aid those it once persecuted, in order to put an end to -faction and strife, my scruples are gone, and, were not life gone too, -none would sooner put his foot in the stirrup than I. But those days -are past; and on you, my son, must devolve the task. A few hours now, -and I shall be no more; yet I will not seek to command you how to act -when I am gone. Your own heart has ever been a good and faithful -monitor. Let me, however, counsel you to seek the Duke of Mayenne ere -you draw the sword against him. Show him your purposes and your -motives; and tell him that he may be sure those who have been neutral -will now become his enemies--those who have been his friends will -daily fall from him, unless he follow the dictates of loyalty and -honour." - -The old man paused, and a slight smile curled the lip of Henry of -Navarre. His nature, however, was too frank to let anything which -might pass for a sneer remain unexplained; and he said, "You know not -these factious Guises well enough, my friend. They strike for -dominion; and that game must be a hopeless one indeed, which they -would not play to gratify their ambition. But let your son seek -Mayenne! More! If he will, let him not decide whose cause he will -espouse till he have heard all the arguments which faction can bring -to colour treason. I fear not. Strong in the frank uprightness of a -good cause, and confident both of his honesty and clear good sense, I -will trust to his own judgment, when he has heard all with his own -ears. Let him call together what followers he can; let him march them -upon Paris; and, under a safe conduct from the Duke and from the King, -visit both camps alike. True, that with Henry of Valois he will find -much to raise disgust and contempt; but there, too, he will find the -only King of France, and with him all that is loyal in the land. With -Mayenne, and his demagogues of the Sixteen, he will find faction, -ambition, injustice, and fanaticism and I well know which a St. Real -must choose." - -"Frank, noble, and confiding, ever, sire!" said the Marquis, "nor with -us will your reliance prove vain. Oh, that we had a King like you! How -few hearts then could, by any arts, be estranged from the throne!" - -"Nay, nay," said Henry, smiling, "you forget that I am a heretic, my -good lord--a Huguenot--a _maheutre!_ They would soon find means to -corrupt the base, and to persuade the weak against me, were I King of -France to-morrow--which God forfend!--and, by my faith, were I a great -valuer of that strange thing, life, I should look for poison in my -cup, or a dagger in my bosom at every hour." - -"And yet, my lord, you are going to trust yourself where daggers have -lately been somewhat too rife," said the Chevalier de St. Real; "and -that, too--if I understood you rightly--with but a small escort." - -"As small as may be," answered the King, "consisting, indeed, of but -this one faithful friend, who has never yet proved untrue;" and he -laid his finger on the hilt of his sword, adding, gaily, "but no fear, -no fear: my cousin brother-in-law could have no earthly motive in -killing me but to make Mayenne King of France, which, by my faith, he -seeks not to do. He knows me too well, also, to think that I would -injure him, even if I could; and, perhaps, finds now, that by making -head against the Guises, and their accursed League, I have been -serving him ever, though against his will." - -"Would it not be better, my lord," asked the old man, in a feeble -voice--"would it not be better to wait till you are accompanied by -your own troops?" - -"No, no," replied Henry; "Mayenne presses him hard. He is himself -dispirited, his troops are more so. Still more of the _Spanish -catholicon_--I mean Spanish mercenaries--are likely to be added to the -forces of the League; and I fear that, if some means be not taken to -keep up his courage, more speedily than could be accomplished by the -march of my forces, he may cast himself upon the mercy of the enemy, -and France be lost for ever." - -"The Duke of Guise went as confidently to Blois as your Majesty to -Tours," said the Chevalier; "and the Duke of Guise was called a -friend: you have been looked on as an enemy." - -"But Guise was a traitor," answered Henry, "and met with treachery, as -a traitor may well expect. He went confiding alone in his own courage, -but knowing that his own designs were evil. I go, confiding both in -myself and in my honesty; and well knowing, that in all France there -is not one man who has just cause to wish that Henry of Navarre were -dead." - -"He has violated his safe conduct more than once," said the Marquis, -"and may violate it again." - -"It will not be in my person, then," answered the King; "for safe -conduct have I none, but his own letter, calling for my aid in time of -need. Two drops of my blood, I do believe, spilled on that letter, -would raise a flame therewith in every noble bosom that would set half -the land a-fire. But I fear not: kings have no right to fear. My -honesty is my breastplate, my good friend; and the steel must be sharp -indeed that will not turn its edge on that." - -"And the hand must be backward indeed," said the Marquis, "that would -refuse its aid to such a heart. However, my lord, I give you my -promise, and I am sure that my son will give you his, that the -followers of St. Real shall be in the field within a month from this -very night. Willingly, too, would we promise that they should join the -royal cause; but, it is better, perhaps, as you have offered, that he -who leads them should go free, till he shall have spoken his feelings -freely to the leaders of the League." - -"So be it! so be it, then!" answered Henry. "I apprehend no change of -feeling towards me. My cause is that of justice, of loyalty, and of -France. So long as I opposed your king in arms, I could hardly hope -that a St. Real would join me, however great the private friendship -might be between us; but, now that his cause is mine, and that the -sword once drawn to withstand his injustice is drawn to uphold his -throne, I know I shall meet no refusal. But I weary you, lord -Marquis," he continued, rising; "and, good faith, I owe you no small -apology for troubling you with such matters at such a time. Yet, I -will trust," he added, laying his hand once more on that of the sick -man--"yet I will trust that this is not our last meeting by very many, -and that I shall soon hear of you in better health." - -The Marquis shook his head. "My lord," he said, "I am a dying man; and -though, perhaps, were the choice left to us, I would rather have died -on the battle-field, serving with the last drops of my old blood some -noble cause: yet, I fear not death, even here in my bed; where, to -most men, he is more terrible. I have lived, I trust, well enough not -to dread death; and I have, certainly, lived long enough to be weary -of life. For the last ten years--though they have certainly been years -of such health and strength as few old men ever know--yet, I have -daily found some fine faculty of this wonderful machine in which we -live, yielding to the force of time. The ear has grown heavy and the -eye grown dim, my lord; the sinews are weak and the joints are stiff. -Thank Heaven! the great destroyer has left the mind untouched: but it -is time that it should be separated from the earth to which it is -joined, and go back to God, who sent it forth. Fare you well, sir; and -Heaven protect you! The times are evil in which your lot is cast; but -if ever I saw a man who was fitted to bring evil times to good, it is -yourself." - -"Fare you well! fare you well, my good old friend!" answered Henry, -grasping his hand; "and though I be a Huguenot, doubt not, St. Real, -that we shall meet again." - -"I doubt it not, my lord," replied the old man, "I doubt it not; and, -till then, God protect your Majesty!" - -Henry echoed the prayer, and quitted the sick man's chamber, followed -by the young lord of St. Real. He suffered not his attendance long, -however; but, retiring at once to rest, drank the sleeping cup with -his young friend, and sent him back to the chamber of his father. He -had judged, and had judged rightly, that the end of the old Marquis of -St. Real was nearer than his son anticipated. After the King had left -his chamber, he was visited by the surgeon and the priest, and then -again slept for several hours. When he awoke there was no one but his -son by his bed-side, and he gazed upon him with a smile, which made -the young lord believe that he felt better. - -"Are you more at ease, my father?" asked the young man, with reviving -hopes. - -"I am quite at ease, my dear Huon," replied his father. "I had hoped -that in that sleep I should have passed away; but, by my faith, I will -turn round and try again, for I am drowsy still." Thus saying, he -turned, and once more closing his eyes, remained about an hour in -sweet and tranquil slumber. At the end of that time, his son, who -watched him anxiously, heard a slight rustle of the bedclothes. He -looked nearer, but all was quiet, and his father seemed still asleep. -There was no change either in feature or in hue; but still there was -an indescribable something in the aspect of his parent that made the -young man's heart beat painfully. He gazed upon the quiet form before -him--he listened for the light whisper of the breath; but all was -still--the throbbing of the heart was over, the light of life had gone -out! St. Real was glad that he was alone; for, had any other eye than -that of Heaven been upon him, he might not have given way to those -feelings which would have been painful to restrain. As it was, he wept -for some time in solitude and silence; and then, calling the -attendants, proceeded to fulfil all those painful offices towards the -deceased which in those days were sadly multiplied. When these were -finished, the morning light was shining into the dull chamber of the -dead; and St. Real, retiring to his own apartments, sent to announce -his loss to his cousin and to the King of Navarre. The first instantly -joined him, and offered such consolation as he thought most likely to -soothe his cousin's mind. Henry of Navarre, however, was not in his -chamber; and, on further inquiry, it was found that he had taken his -departure with the first ray of the morning light. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -A month and some days succeeded--full of events important to France, -it is true, but containing nothing calculated to affect materially the -course of this history; and I shall, therefore, pass over in my -narrative that lapse of time without comment, changing the scene also -without excuse. - -There is in France a forest, in the heart of which I have spent many a -happy hour--which, approaching the banks of the small river Iton, -spreads itself out over a large tract of varied and beautiful ground -between Evreux and Dreux, sweeping round that habitation of melancholy -memories called Navarre, filled with the recollections of Turennes and -Beauharnois. Over a much greater extent of ground, however, than the -forest, properly so called, now occupies, large masses of thicket and -wood, with, occasionally, much more splendid remnants of the primeval -covering of earth, show how wide the forest of Evreux must have spread -in former years; and, in fact, the records of the times of which I -write compute the extreme length thereof at thirty-five French -leagues; while the breadth seems to have varied at different points -from five to ten miles. - -In the space thus occupied, was comprised almost every description of -scenery which a forest can display; hill and dell, rock and river, -with sometimes even a meadow or a corn-field presenting itself in -different parts of the wood, which was also traversed by two high -roads--the one leading from Touraine, and the other from Alenēon, -Caen, and the northern parts of Normandy. These high roads, however, -were, from the very circumstances of time, but little frequented; -for the eloquent words of Alexis Monteil, in describing the state -of France in the days of the League, afford no exaggerated -picture:--"France, covered with fortified towns, with houses, with -castles, with monasteries enclosed with walls within which no one -entered, and from which no one issued forth, resembled a great body -mailed, armed, and stretched lifeless on the earth." - -Nevertheless, interest and necessity either lead or compel men to all -things; and along the line of the two high roads already mentioned -were scattered one or two villages and hamlets--the inhabitants of -which had little to lose--and a number of detached houses, the -proprietors of which were willing to risk a little in the hopes of -gaining much. The fronts of these houses, by the various signs and -inscriptions which they bore, gave notice to the wayfaring traveller, -sometimes that man and horse could be accommodated equally well within -those walls; sometimes that the human race could there find rest and -food, if unaccompanied by the four-footed companion whose greater -corporeal powers we have made subservient to our greater cunning. -According to the strict letter of the existing laws, we find that the -_auberge_ for foot passengers was forbidden to lodge the equestrian, -and that the _auberge_ for cavaliers had no right to receive the -traveller on foot. But these laws, like all other foolish ones, were -neglected or evaded in many instances; and he who could pay well for -his entertainment was, of course, very willingly admitted to the -mercenary hospitality of either the one or other class of inns, -whether he made use of the two identical feet with which nature had -provided him, or borrowed four more for either speed or convenience. - -Notwithstanding the turbulent elements which rendered every state of -life perilous in those days, the landlord of the _auberge_, however -isolated was his dwelling, did not, in fact, run so much risk as may -be supposed; for by a sort of common consent, proceeding from a -general conviction of the great utility of his existence, and the -comfort which all parties had at various times derived from his -ever-ready welcome, the innkeeper's dwelling was almost universally -exempt from pillage, except, indeed, in those cases where the party -spirit of the day had got the better of that interested moderation in -politics which is such a distinguishing feature of the class, and had -led him to espouse one of the fierce factions of the times with -somewhat imprudent vehemence. Nevertheless, it need hardly be said, -that between the several villages, and the several detached houses -which chequered the forest of Evreux, large spaces were left without -anything like a human habitation; and the traveller on either of the -two highways, or on any of the multifarious cross-roads which wandered -through the woods, might walk on for many a long and weary mile, -without seeing anything in the likeness of mankind. Perhaps, indeed, -he might think himself lucky if he did find it so; for--as there then -existed three or four belligerent parties in France, besides various -bodies who took advantage of the discrepancy of other people's -opinions upon most subjects, to assert their own ideas of property at -the point of the sword--there was every chance that, in any accidental -rencontre, the traveller would find the first person he met a great -deal more attached to the sword than to the olive branch. - -A little more than a month, then, after the funeral of the old Marquis -of St. Real, in a part of the forest where a few years before the axe -had been busy amongst the taller trees, there appeared a group of -several persons, two of whom have already been introduced to the -notice of the reader. The spot in which they were seated was a small -dry grassy strip of meadow by the side of a clear little stream, which -at a hundred yards distance crossed the high road from Touraine. From -the bank of the stream the ground rose very gradually for some way, -leaving a space of perhaps fifty yards in breadth free of underwood or -bush. It then took a bolder sweep, and became varied with manifold -trees and shrubs; and then, breaking into rock as it swelled upwards, -it towered into a high and craggy hill, diversified with clumps of the -fine tall beeches which the axe had spared, and clothed thickly, -wherever the soil admitted it, with rich underwood, springing up from -the roots of larger trees long felled. On the other side again, the -ground sloped away so considerably, that had the stream flowed -straight on, it would have formed a cataract; and as the eye rested on -the clear water, winding in a thousand turns within a very short -distance of the edge of the descent, and seeming to seek a way over -without being able to find it, one felt as we do in gazing upon a -child in a meadow looking for something it has lost, which we -ourselves see full well, yet cannot resolve to point out, lest the -little seeker should desist from all the graceful vagaries of his -search. Various bends and knolls, however, confined the rivulet to the -course it had taken; but still the whole ground on that side was low, -and at one point sunk much beneath the spot where the travellers -before mentioned were seated, affording--over the green tree-tops--a -beautiful view of a long expanse of varied ground, lying sweet in the -misty light of summer, with many a wide and undulating sweep, fainter -and more faint, till some grey spires marked the position of a distant -town, and cut the line of the horizon. - -The party here assembled consisted of five persons: the first of whom -was the page already described under the name of Leonard de Monte, and -who, now stretched upon the ground, seemed making a light repast, -while the dwarf Bartholo, standing beside him, filled a small horn cup -with wine from a gourd he carried, and presented it to the young -Italian with a low inclination of the head. The other three personages -who made up the group were evidently servants. The colours of their -dress, however, were very different from those of the Marquis of St. -Real, and they were also armed up to the teeth, though their garb -bespoke them the followers of some private individual, and not -soldiers belonging to any of the parties which then divided the land. -Besides the human denizens of the scene, five horses were browsing the -forest grass at a little distance. Three of these were equipped with -saddles; while two still bore about them the rough harness, if harness -it could be called, by means of which they had been attached to a -small vehicle, somewhat between a carriage and a car, which, with its -leathern curtains and its wicker frame, might be seen peeping out from -amongst the bushes hard by. - -While the page concluded his repast, two of the servants--the other -seemed the driver of the carriage--stood behind him with their arms -folded on their bosoms, but still in an attitude so common in those -times of trouble as to have found its way into most of the pictures -which have come down from that epoch to the present. The same movement -which crossed the right and left arms over the chest had easily -brought the hilt of the sword, and the part of the broad belt in which -it hung, up from the haunch to the breast, where the weapon was -supported by the pressure of the left arm and the right hand, and was -ever ready for service at a moment's notice. The youth, however, who -was the principal person of the party, and the dwarf, who seemed to -ape his demeanour, wore their swords differently, following the -extravagant court fashion of the day, and throwing the weapon which, -in those times, might be needed at every instant, so far behind them, -that the hilt was concealed by the short cloak then worn, and would -have been out of the reach of any but a very dexterous hand. - -When the page had concluded his repast, he wiped his dagger on the -grass, and returned it to the sheath; and then, making the dwarf -mingle some water from the stream with the wine he offered, he asked, -ere he drank, "Are you sure, Bartholo, right sure, that we have passed -them?" - -"Certain! quite certain!" answered the dwarf; "unless, noble----" - -"Hush!" cried the youth, holding up his hand impetuously; "have I not -told thee to forget, even when we are alone, that I am any other than -Leonard the page. Some day thou wilt betray me; and, by my troth, thou -shalt repent it if thou dost. Go on! go on! What wert thou saying?" - -"Nothing, then, Signor Leonard," answered the dwarf, with his usual -sardonic grin; "but that I am certain we have passed them, quite -certain: for I saw each day's march laid down before they set out; and -though we were two days behind them, and had to take a round of ten -leagues to avoid their route, yet we have done five leagues more than -they each day that we have travelled." - -"Well, then, well!" said the youth; "dine, and make these varlets -dine. If I am in Paris three days before them, it is enough. Yet lose -no time; for I would fain be on far enough to-night to be beyond their -utmost _fourriers_ ere I stay to rest. I go up yon hill to look over -this woody world. When all is ready, whistle, and I will come." Thus -saying, he turned away with a slow step, and, climbing the banks, was -quickly lost amongst the trees and underwood. - -As soon as he was gone, the dwarf beckoned to the servants; and, -making them sit down beside him on the grass, did the honours of the -feast, but still taking care to maintain that air of superiority with -which a master might be supposed to portion out their meal to his -domestics, on some of those accidental expeditions which level, for -the time, many of the distinctions of rank. The servants, too, -submitted to this sort of assumption as a matter of course; and though -the eye of each might be caught running over the diminutive limbs of -the dwarf with a glance in which the contempt of big things for little -was scarcely kept down by habitual deference, yet, in their general -demeanour, they preserved every sort of respect for their small -companion, keeping a profound silence in his presence, and treating -him with every mark of reverence. - -Scarcely had they concluded their meal, however, and were in the act -of yawning at the horses they were about to harness, when the rustling -of the bushes on the hillside, and the fall of a few stones, gave -notice of the approach of some living being. The moment after, the -light and graceful form of their young master appeared, bounding down -the slope like a scared deer, with his cheek flushed, and all the -flashing eagerness of haste and surprise sparkling in his dark eye. -"Quick!" he cried, as he came up, "quick as lightning! Draw the -carriage into that brake, and lead the horses in amongst the bushes. -Scatter as far as possible, and come not hither again till you hear my -horn." - -"But the carriage!" cried the dwarf, looking towards the spot to which -the page pointed--"the brake is deep and uneven." - -"We must get it out afterwards as best we may," replied the youth; "do -as you are bid, and make haste! They are not half a mile from us, when -I thought they were leagues. I saw them coming up, on the other side -of the hill, and they will be here in five minutes. Quick! quick as -lightning, Bartholo!" - -The dwarf and his companions obeyed at once, and in a few moments the -carriage was drawn into a woody brake that completely concealed it -from view; the horses were led into the forest; Bartholo betook -himself one way, and the attendants another; and their young lord, -climbing the hill, sought himself out a place amongst the shrubs and -larger trees, where he could see all that passed upon the high road, -without running any risk of being seen himself. A quick and impatient -spirit, however, gauging all things by its own activity, had, as is -often the case, deceived him as to the movements of others; and -instead of five minutes, which was the utmost space that his -imagination had allowed for the arrival of the persons he had beheld, -full half an hour had elapsed ere any one appeared. - -At length, however, the trampling of horses sounded along the road; -and the moment after, winding round from the other side of the hill, -was seen a party of six horsemen, each bearing in his hand a short -matchlock, with a lighted match, while three other weapons of the same -kind hung round at the different corners of the steel saddle with -which every horse was furnished. After a short interval, another small -party appeared; and, succeeding them again, might be seen, first -moving along above the interposing shoulder of the hill, and then upon -the open road, the dancing plumes of a large body of officers and -gentlemen, in the midst of whom rode the young Marquis of St. Real, -and his cousin, the Count d'Aubin. The eyes of Leonard de Monte fixed -eagerly upon that party, and followed its movements for many a minute, -till a new bend of the road concealed it from his sight; and he turned -to gaze upon the strong body of troops that then appeared. Two -companies of infantry, each consisting of two hundred men, came next; -and a gay and pleasant sight it was to see them pass along with their -shining steel morions, and tall plumes, and rich apparel, in firm -array and regular order, but all gay and cheerful, and singing as they -went. Amongst them, but in separate bands, appeared the various sorts -of foot soldiers then common in France; the musketeer with his long -gun upon his shoulder, and the steel-pointed fork, or rest, used to -assist his aim in discharging his piece, while, together with the -broad leathern belt which supported his long and heavy sword, hung the -innumerable small rolls of leather, in which the charges for his -musket were deposited. The ancient pikeman, too, was there, with his -long pike rising over the weapons of the other soldiers, and one or -two bodies of arquebusiers, armed with a lighter and less cumbersome, -but even more antique kind of musket, here and there chequered the -ranks. A troop of cavalry, still stronger in point of numbers, -succeeded, consisting of two companies of men-at-arms, which old -privileges permitted the two houses of St. Real and D'Aubin to raise -for the service of the crown, and of about four hundred of more -lightly armed horse of that description which, from having been first -introduced from Germany and Flanders, had acquired the name of -reitters, even when the regiment was composed entirely of Frenchmen. -The first body contained none but men of noble birth, and consisted -principally of young gentlemen attached to the two great houses who -raised it. Each carried his lance, to which weapon the men-at-arms of -that day clung with peculiar tenacity, as a vestige of that ancient -chivalry which people felt was rapidly passing away before improved -science, but from which they did not like to part. Each also was -splendidly armed; and gold and polished steel made their horses shine -in the sunbeams. - -The reitters, however, were more simply clothed, and were composed of -such persons from the wealthier part of the _classe bourgeoise_ as the -love of arms, the distinctions generally affixed to military life, or -feudal attachment to any particular house, brought from the very -insecure tranquillity then afforded by their paternal dwellings, to -the open struggle of the field. This corps, however, was not -distinguished by the lance: a long and heavy sword, which did terrible -execution in the succeeding wars, together with a number of pistols, -each furnished with a rude flint lock, composed the offensive arms of -the reitter. His armour, too, and his horse were both somewhat lighter -than those of the man-at-arms; but his movements were, in consequence, -more easy, and his march less encumbered. - -The whole body wound slowly on with very little disarray Of confusion, -till, one by one, the several bands turned the angle of the wood, and -disappeared in the distant forest. A few scattered parties followed; -then a few stragglers, and then all was left to solitude, while -nothing but a cloudy line of dust, rising up above the green covering -of the trees, and two or three notes of the trumpet, told that such a -force was near, or marked the road it took. Leonard de Monte gazed -from the place of his concealment upon each party as it passed, and -then waited for several minutes, listening with attentive ear till -the trumpet sounded so faintly that it was evident his own small -hunting-horn might be winded unheard by the retiring squadrons. He -descended, however, in the first instance, to the bank of the stream -where he had been previously sitting, and then gave breath to a few -low notes, as of a huntsman recalling his dogs. The sounds were heard -by his attendants, and instantly obeyed. The horses were led forth -from the wood; and, while the two servants bestirred themselves to -draw out the carriage from the brake in which it had been concealed, -the youth beckoned the dwarf towards him, demanding--"Now, Bartholo! -now! what think you of this?" - -"Why, I think it a very silly trick, sir," replied the dwarf: "I could -forgive a raw youth like the Marquis for leading his men through such -a wood as this; but how an experienced soldier, like my good lord the -Count, could let him do it, I cannot fancy. Why, the League might have -taken them all like quails in a falling net!" - -"You are wrong," said the youth; "you are wrong, Bartholo. He knows -full well that the League, close cooped in Paris, have not men to -spare, and that Longueville and La Noue keep Aumale in check near -Compeigne. St. Real is no bad soldier. At least, so I have heard. But -it was not of that I spoke. What are we to do now? You told me that -they were a day behind, and now they are right on the road before us. -They must have changed their route. What must we do?" - -"Why, we must turn back," answered the dwarf, calmly; "and then at -Dreux seek out the _maītre des postes_, leave these slow brutes behind -us, and on to Paris with all the speed we can." - -"But should there be no horses?" said the youth, "as was the case at -La Fleche; what must we do then?" - -"Oh, beyond all doubt, we shall find horses there," the dwarf replied; -"and if the post be broken up, we can but apply to the master of -relais, whose horses will take us on for fifteen leagues, while these -tired brutes will scarce carry us to Dreux: better go with beasts that -have dragged a cart, than halt half way on the road."[2] - -The youth paused and pondered; and though his intention was at first -directed to the exertions of the servants with the carriage, yet the -moment after, his glance began to stray abstractedly over the forest; -and it is more than probable that his thoughts wandered much farther -than the mere trifling embarrassment in which he found himself; for -his brow became clouded and melancholy, his lip quivered, and his eye, -which was now again straining vacantly upon the grass, seemed as if it -would willingly have harboured a tear. The dwarf gazed at him -earnestly with his quick black eyes, while the habitual sneer upon his -lip seemed mingled with other feelings, which somewhat changed its -character, but rendered it not less dark and keen. Whatever were his -own thoughts, however, he seemed perfectly to comprehend that his -young lord's mind had run beyond the situation of the moment. "You are -sorry you undertook it at all!" he said, keeping his eyes still fixed -upon the face of the other. - -"Out, knave!" cried Leonard de Monte, turning sharply upon him. "Out! -Did you ever know me hesitate in a pursuit that I had once determined, -or regret a deed when once it was done? Firm in myself, I am firm to -myself, and, whether good or ill happens, I never regret. No, no; -think you that I am such a fool or such a child as to start from the -first trifling obstacle? To whimper, because I am forced to lie on a -hard bed, or fly off indignant because some saucy serving-man breaks -his jest upon _the page?_ No, no! I was thinking of my father's house, -and of a picture there which some skilful hand had painted of just -such a scene as this. There was the little sparkling stream, and -there a sweet and tranquil grassy bank like that, with the bright -sunshine--even as it does now--streaming through the bushes, and -touching the rounded turf with gold. Often, very often, have I stood -and gazed upon that landscape, and my fancy has rendered the dull -canvass instinct with life. I have dreamed that I could see through -those groves, or climb the hill, and wander amongst the rocks; and in -infancy--that time of happy hearts--imagination, as I stood and -looked, has shaped me out a little paradise in such a scene as that. -The palace and its cold splendour has faded away around me, and I have -fancied myself wandering in the midst of Nature's beauties, with -beings as bright and as ideal as my dream: and now, Bartholo--and -now--what are all those visions now?" - -The dwarf cast his eyes to the ground, and for a moment, a single -moment, the cynical smile passed away from his lip. "You," he -said--"you have made your fate! You have sought the bitter well from -which you are forced to drink. You have chosen sorrow, and the way to -sorrow; for the love of any human thing is but the high road thither, -and you must tread it to the end." - -"How now, sir!" cried the youth, proudly tossing back his head; -"school'st thou me?" - -"Nay, I school you not," answered the dwarf; "and less than all sought -to offend you. I would have given you consolation. I would have said -that you, for a great prize, had played a stake as weighty:--I mean -that knowingly, willingly, you had risked happiness for love; and, -seemingly having lost, are sorrowful; but still you have the -satisfaction of knowing that your fate has been your own deliberate -act." - -"Would not that make it all the more painful, thou bitter medicine?" -asked the youth. - -"Not so!" answered the dwarf, "not so! Think, what must be his -feelings who is _born_ to disappointment and to scorn; whose heart may -be as fine as that which beats in the bosom of the lordliest warrior -in the land, and yet whose birthright is contempt, and degradation, -and slight; whose mind may be as bright as that of prelate, or of -lawgiver, and yet whose doom is to be despised and neglected? Think -what must be his feelings, who has no refuge from disappointment, but -in the hardness of despair; who has no warfare to wage against insult, -but by hurling back contempt and defiance!" - -"I am sorry for thee, from my heart," answered the youth. "Indeed, I -am sorry for thee." - -"_Your_ pity I can bear," replied the dwarf, "because I believe it is -of a nobler kind; but the pity of this base degraded world is poison -to every wound in my heart. No more of myself, however," he added, -resuming at once his usual look; "I have spoken too long about myself -already. I cannot change my state, were I to reason on it till the sun -grew old and weary of shining; but you can do much to change yours; -and, in honesty, it were better to try a new plan, for this is a bad -one." - -"Care not thou for that," replied the other; "its wisdom or its folly -rests upon me. Thou canst not say that there is either sin or crime -therein; and till then, be silent." - -"You spoke of your father's house," still persevered the dwarf. "Why -not return thither, where now, since your uncle's death, peace, and -repose, and a princely fortune await you?" - -"Return thither!" replied the youth, with a sigh. "Return thither! and -for what? to find the voices I used to love silent; the forms that -used to cheer it gone; to see in every chamber a memorial of the dead, -and in each well-known object a new source for tears. Oh, no! I loved -that place once with love far beyond that which we give in general to -inanimate things; but it was because the living, and the good, and the -kind, were mingled up with every scene and every object; but now they -are gone: the fairy spell is broken; the rich gold turned dross; and -no place of all the earth is so painful in my sight as that--my -father's house." - -"Nevertheless," urged the dwarf somewhat anxiously; but the other went -on: "But that is not all, Bartholo," he said, "that is not all; though -that were fully enough. No, when I last saw my father's halls my bosom -was as light as air, and all the thoughts that filled it were as the -summer dreams of some sunny, happy child. Since then how many a bitter -lesson have I learned; how changed is the aspect of life, and fate, -and the world!--No, no! The sunshine that shone in my father's halls -is gone for ever--the sunshine of a happy heart; and I will carry back -with me a new star to light them, or never see them more." - -"Nevertheless," repeated the dwarf, "nevertheless--" - -"No more in that tone!" interrupted the youth, "let me hear no more! -My resolutions are fixed beyond change. My fate is upon the die in my -hand, and I will cast it boldly, let the chance be what it will. Say -no more! for no more will I hear! Quick! hasten those laggards with -the horses, and let us begone: each word of opposition but makes me -the more eager to run my course to the end." - -The dwarfs lip curled into a more bitter smile than ever, but he made -no reply; and proceeded to obey the orders he had received to hasten -the preparations for departure. Those preparations were soon -concluded; for while the conversation detailed above had been -proceeding, the servants, with the aid of the horses, had dragged the -carriage out of the brake. With some difficulty, and some danger of -overturning it, it was at length brought to the high road. Leonard de -Monte entered; and, wrapping himself in a large cloak, cast himself -back with an air of gloomy thought. The rest mounted their horses, -and, as fast as the nature of the rude vehicle, and the state of the -roads would permit, the little cavalcade wound away towards Dreux, -leaving the forest once more to silence and solitude. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -In one of the old houses between the Louvre and the Place Royals, is -still preserved in its original state a fine antique saloon of the -times of Henry II. No gorgeous hall, no spacious vestibule, -impresses you at once with the grandeur of the mansion; but, winding -up a narrow and incommodious stair, you find yourself upon a small -landing-place, whence two steps--each the segment of a circle, and -both turning considerably, as if they had once formed part of a spiral -staircase--conduct you, through a deep but narrow passage in the wall, -to a door of black oak. On opening this, you find yourself at the -threshold of a room some two-and-thirty feet square, panelled with -dark and richly carved wood, and possessing a ceiling of the same. At -the farther end of the saloon, opposite to the door, is a deep recess, -or, rather, a sort of bay, at the entrance of which the floor rises -with a high step, forming a sort of little platform capable of -receiving a table and two or three chairs. From the distance of about -three feet and a half above the ground up to the ceiling, the greater -part of this recess or bay is of glass, with only just so much Gothic -stone and wood work as serves to support the large casements, which -afford the sole light of the room. The form which this projection -takes on the outside of the house presents three sides of a regular -octagon, and, in ornament and lightness, is not unlike one of the -windows of the new part of St. John's, Cambridge, though certainly not -near so beautiful as any part of that exquisite specimen of Gothic -architecture. - -Though, as I have said, from this window is derived the sole light -which the room possesses; nevertheless, that light is enough, -especially as the sunshine seems to regard that casement with -particular favour, and never fails to linger about it when the bright -beams visit earth. - -At the time to which we must now go back, the floors were not so -dingy, the oak was not so black, as they are at present; but the full -summer sunshine was pouring through the large oriel, chequering the -wood work of the raised flooring with the golden light of the rays and -the dark shadows of the leaden frames in which the glass was set. A -stand for embroidery appeared on the little platform; and before it -sat a lady plying the busy needle and the shining silks; while a maid, -seated near, read to her from a book--the Gothic characters of which -were fast merging into the round letters of the present day--and -another female attendant, a little farther off, followed the -industrious example of her mistress, and busied herself at her frame. -The principal person of the group was habited in deep mourning, which, -in the fashion of that day, was, perhaps, the most unbecoming dress -that the vanity of man ever permitted. The sombre hue of the garment -was relieved by nothing that could give lightness or grace; and the -heavy black veil, hanging from the head, seemed designed purposely to -cast a gloomy, unsoftened shadow over the face. But that lady was one -of those whom we see sometimes, and dream of often, so lovely by the -gift of nature, that art can do nothing either to add to the beauty or -diminish it; and she looked as transcendently lovely in the dark -wimple and the sable stole, as if she had been clad in jewels and in -lace. She was as fair as the morning star, with eyes of the deep, deep -blue of the evening sky, full and soft, and overhung with a long -fringe of jetty eyelashes, which sometimes made the eyes themselves -seem black. Her cheek bore the rosy hue of health, though the colour -was by no means deep, and was so softly diffused over her face, that -it was scarce possible to say where the warm tint of the cheek ended, -and the brilliant fairness of the forehead and temples began. The -features, too, were as lovely as if the brightest fancy and the most -skilful hand had combined to personify beauty; but they had nothing of -the cold, still harshness of the statue, and one looked long in -admiration ere one could pause to trace the graceful lines that went -to form so fair a whole. The form was in no way unworthy of the face; -and even the stiff, heavy folds of the mourning robe were forced into -graceful falls by the symmetry of the limbs they covered. All, -however, was calm and easy, and every part of the figure was -concealed, as far as possible, except the tip of one small foot, and -the soft rounded delicate hands, which, with a thousand graceful -movements, urged the needle through the embroidery. - -Such was Eugenie de Menancourt, whom her father's death in Paris had -left one of the richest heiresses of France, and had cast into the -hands of the faction called the League, which then ruled in the -capital, while the King waged war against it in the field. The -possession of Eugenie de Menancourt, indeed, was no slight advantage -to that party, for those who have much to bestow will always be -followed; and the reward of her hand, and all the wealth that -accompanied it, was one well calculated to lure many an aspiring noble -to the faction who had the power of awarding it. This the Duke of -Mayenne felt fully, and made, indeed, no slight use of his advantage: -not that he held out the hope of obtaining her to any one directly, -except to the Count d'Aubin, to whom she had been promised by her -father, and whom Mayenne was most anxious to gain over from the royal -cause; but, nevertheless, he took good care that, when any of his -agents busied themselves to bring over an opposite, or confirm a -wavering, partisan, the list of the good things which the League could -bestow should not be left unmentioned, and amongst the first was the -hand of Eugenie de Menancourt, the heiress of near one half of Maine. -There was many another poor girl in the same condition; but as, in -those days, inclination was the last thing consulted by parents in the -marriage of their daughters, there was but little difference between -their fate in the hands of the League, and in the hands of their more -legitimate guardians. Nevertheless, the circumstances by which she was -surrounded, her isolated situation in the house wherein her father had -died, and which had been assigned to her by the League as her abode -during the time of her honourable captivity in Paris, and the prospect -of being forced to wed a man she did not love, all contributed to -heighten the gloom which her parent's recent death had cast over her, -and to make melancholy the temporary expression of a countenance which -seemed by nature born for smiles. - -One only consideration tended to make her situation feel more light: -the Count d'Aubin was deeply engaged on the side of the King; and on -his late journey to Maine, had even been entrusted with the high task -of keeping in check that province, and some of the neighbouring -districts. So long as he adhered to the King, Eugenie well knew that -Mayenne would never consent to his marriage with herself; and though -she sometimes doubted the steadiness of D'Aubin's loyalty, she trusted -the artful game which she knew that the Duke was playing, in order to -detach him from the royal cause, would insure her not being pressed to -give her hand to any one else. She hoped, therefore, for a degree of -peace till such time, at least, as some change in the political -affairs of France delivered her from the chance of force being -employed to compel her obedience to a choice made by others. - -On such facts and such speculations her mind was often forced to -dwell; but Eugenie de Menancourt was too wise to yield full way to -painful remembrances or anticipations that could produce no change; -and she studiously strove to occupy her thoughts with other things: -either reading herself during all the many hours she spent alone, or -making one of her maids read to her, when she was employed with any of -those occupations which engage the hand without absorbing the -attention. - -Thus, then, was she employed plying her needle in the sunshine, and -listening to some of the poetry of Du Bartas, while, though she -attended, and she heard, some melancholy feeling or some gloomy -thought, springing from the depths of her own heart, would mingle -insensibly with the other matter which engaged her mind, and make all -she heard associate itself with the painful circumstances of her -situation. In the midst of the reading, however, the door of the -saloon opened, and a person entered, of whom we must pause to give -almost as full a description as we have been beguiled into writing in -regard to Eugenie de Menancourt herself. - -The figure that appeared was that of a lady as beautiful as it is -possible to conceive, but in a style of loveliness as different from -that of her she came to visit as the ruby is different from the -sapphire. She might be three or four and twenty years of age, but -certainly was not more; and the full rounded contour of womanhood was -exquisitely united in her figure to the light and easy graces of -youth. Her hair was as jetty as a raven's wing, and her full bright -eyes also were as dark. Her skin was fair, however, and her teeth, of -dazzling whiteness, were just seen through the half-open lips of her -small beautiful mouth. The soft arched eyebrow, the chiselled nose, -the rounded chin, the gentle oval of the face, the small white ear, -and the broad clear forehead, made up a countenance such as is seldom -seen and never forgotten; and to that face and form she might well -have trusted to command admiration, had such been her object, without -calling in "the foreign aid of ornament." Dress, however, and -splendour had not been neglected, though her rich garments sat so -easily upon her, that they seemed but the natural accompaniment of so -much beauty, worn rather to harmonise with than to heighten the -splendid loveliness of her face and person. Her whole apparel, except -the mantle and the sleeves, was of the lightest kind of gold tissue, -consisting of a small stripe of pink, and a still smaller one of gold. -The bodice, or stays, was laced with gold; and the body, or _corps de -robe_, shaped not at all unlike those in use at present, came much -higher over the bosom than was customary at a libertine court, and in -a libertine age. The sleeves, which were large on the shoulders, and -suddenly contracted till they fitted close to the round and beautiful -arms, were of white satin, as was also the mantle, which round the -edge was richly embroidered with pink and gold. Her girdle was of gold -filigree worked upon white velvet; and through it was passed a chaplet -of large pearls, with every now and then a sapphire or an emerald, to -mark some particular prayer. Jewels were in her ears too, and on the -bosom of her dress, though it was but mid-day; and in her hand she -held one of the small black velvet masks, which the fair dames of -those days very generally wore when in the streets, even in their -carriages, under the pretence of guarding their complexions from the -sun and wind, but, in fact, more for the sake of fashion than from -over-tenderness, and often with views and purposes which might well -shun the day. - -The lady, however, who now entered, bore no appearance of one likely -to yield to the luxurious softness, or the weak vices of the day. -There was a light and a soul in her dark eyes, a play and a spirit -about her ever-varying lip, a firmness and determination on her fine -clear brow, that might, perhaps, speak of passion intense and strong, -but could hardly admit the idea of weakness. As soon as Eugenie de -Menancourt beheld her, she started up with a look of joy; and, -advancing to meet her, pressed her kindly in her arms, exclaiming, -"Dear, dear Beatrice! are you better at length? Why would you not let -me see you?" - -"Well! quite well now, Eugenie," replied the other, returning her -embrace as warmly as it was given "but my illness, they said, was -contagious; and why should I have suffered you to risk your valued and -most precious life for such a one as I am?" - -"Oh! and your life is precious too, Beatrice," replied her friend; -"most precious to those who know you as well as I do." - -"But how few do that, dearest friend!" replied Beatrice of Ferrara; -for, strange as it may seem, it was she whose name has once before -been mentioned in this work, who now stood beside Eugenie de -Menancourt, on terms of the dearest intimacy and affection. "How few -do that! Do you know, Eugenie, that I regard as one of the greatest -and sweetest triumphs of my life, the having conquered all your -prejudices against me; having won your love and your esteem, and -taught you to know me as I am." - -"But indeed, indeed, as I have often told you," replied Eugenie, "I -had no prejudices against you." - -"Nay, nay," replied the other, with a smile; "you beheld me surrounded -by the profligate and the base; you beheld me mingling with the idle -and the vain: you beheld the seducers and the seduced of a corrupt -court worshipping this pretty painted idol that you see before you; -and, doubtless, thought in your own secret heart that it was with -pleasure that I bore it all." - -"No, no, indeed," replied Eugenie; "quite the reverse! Wherever I went -I heard you mentioned as the exception. The malicious and the -scandalous were silent at your name; and not even the braggart idlers, -whose vanity is fed by their own lies against our sex, ventured to say -you smiled upon them." - -"They dared not, Eugenie!" said Beatrice, her dark eye flashing as she -spoke; "they dared not! There is not a minion in all France who would -dare to cast a spot upon my name! Not because they fear to speak -falsehood, be it as gross and glaring as the sun; but because they -know I hold, that where the honour of Beatrice of Ferrara is assailed, -she has as much right as any punctilious man in all the land to avenge -herself as best she may. Nay, start not, dear friend! but send away -your women, and let us have a few calm moments together, if the idle -world will let us." - -The women, who had been in attendance upon Eugenie de Menancourt, -required no farther commands; but, the one laying down her book, and -the other covering up her embroidery-frame, left the room. - -"You started but now, Eugenie," continued Beatrice, advancing towards -the little platform in the bay window, and seating herself beside her -friend; "you started but now, when I said that women have as much -right to avenge themselves, when their honour is assailed, as men; but -I say so still--ay, and even more right. I have long thought so, and -shall ever think so, Eugenie; though Heaven only knows how I should -act, were such a case to happen. I might be as weak as women generally -are, and let the traitor escape out of pure fear: but I think not, -Eugenie--I think not. I believe that I would rather die the next -minute after having avenged myself, than live on in the same world -with one who had slandered that fair fame which, in spite of -circumstances, and my own wild thoughtlessness, I have maintained -unstained in the midst of this foul court." - -"Nay, but consider, Beatrice," cried Eugenie, earnestly, "this world -is not all." - -"I know it well, sweet friend," replied Beatrice; "but I think, if -there be pardon in heaven for any offence, it would be for that Men -claim the right, and die without a fear; and why should not we have -the same privilege? They, when their honour is assailed, could clear -themselves without revenge; they could call their comrades to judge of -their conduct; but, with us, the very whisper is destruction; and no -proof of innocence ever gives us back that pure, untarnished name -which is our only honour; we can have no exculpation, we can have no -redress, and vengeance is all that is left us." - -Eugenie was silent, and Beatrice gazed upon her, for a moment or two, -with a smile, adding, at last, "But no--no, Eugenie, such thoughts and -such feelings are not for you. Your nation, your education, your -country, will not let you feel as I feel, or think as I think; and -yet, Eugenie, we love each other," she added, twining her graceful arm -through that of her fair friend, "and yet we love each other--is it -not so?" - -"Indeed, it is!" replied Eugenie de Menancourt, turning towards her -with a warm smile. "Your company, your affection, your sympathy, dear -Beatrice, have been my only consolations since I came within the walls -of this hateful city; and all I wish is that I could on some points -make you think as I do. I wish it selfishly, and yet for your sake, -Beatrice; for, if I could succeed, I should not tremble every moment -for your happiness and for your peace, as I do now." - -"Thank you, thank you for the wish, dear friend!" replied Beatrice, -with more melancholy than mirth in her smile; "thank you, most -sincerely, for the wish! but still it is in vain. You can never, with -all your kind eloquence, make a wild, ardent, passionate Italian girl, -a calm, gentle, yielding being like yourself, all charity and half -Huguenot. It is in vain, it is in vain. But you speak of happiness, -Eugenie, as if I knew what happiness is. Now listen to me, and you -shall hear more of Beatrice of Ferrara than ever you have yet done. -There is a subject, I know, on which we have both thought often, and -on which we have wished often to speak--I know it, Eugenie! I know it! -I have heard it in half-spoken words; I have read it in your manner, -and in your tone; I have seen it in your eyes--that, often, often, -when we have talked of other scenes and other days, you have longed to -ask what is Beatrice of Ferrara to Philip d'Aubin, and what is he to -her? Nay, I dream not that you love him, Eugenie; I know better--I -know that you love him not; and I feel that Philip d'Aubin, with all -his splendid qualities, with all his energies of mind, and graces of -person, is the last man on earth that Eugenie de Menancourt could -love." - -She paused a moment, gazed thoughtfully in her friend's face, and -then, leaning her head upon Eugenie's shoulder, while she took her -hand in hers, she added, in a low tone and with a deep sigh--"But it -is not so with Beatrice of Ferrara!" - -A bright blush rushed over her cheek, as she spoke the words which -gave to her friend the full assurance of a fact that she had long -suspected, perhaps we might say had long known; and she closed her -dark bright eyes, as if to avoid seeing whatever expression that -confession might call into the countenance of Eugenie. The moment -after, however, she started up, exclaiming eagerly, "But mistake me -not! mistake me not! I have not loved unsought; I have not called upon -my head the well-deserved shame of being despised for courting him -who loved me not. No, Eugenie, no! although the blood that flows in -these veins may be all fire, yet in my heart there is a well of icy -pride--at least, so he has often called it--which would cool the warm -current of my love--ay, till it froze in death!--ere the name I bear -should be stained even by such a pitiful weakness as that. No! he -sought me, he courted me, he lived at my feet, till the proud heart -was won. Yes, Eugenie, he lived at my feet, he seemed to feed upon my -smiles, till, at length, ambition and interest opened wider views, and -vanity was piqued to think that Eugenie de Menancourt could be dull to -such high merits as his own----" - -"If ambition and interest swayed him," said Eugenie;--but her friend -interrupted her ere she could finish. "Hear me out!" she cried, "hear -me out, Eugenie! Ambition and interest had much to do therewith. When -I and my young brother first sought this court to find protection -against the injustice of my father's brother, I possessed little but a -small inheritance in France, the dowry of my mother. This he well -knew; and though, if there be any truth on earth, he loved me, -yet, with men, Eugenie, there are passions that make even love -subservient--ambition, interest, vanity, Eugenie, are men's gods!" - -"But is it possible, Beatrice," cried Mademoiselle de Menancourt, -"that, thinking thus of all men, and of him in particular, you can -either esteem or love him, or any of his race?" - -"Oh, yes, Eugenie! oh, yes!" she replied. "Love is a tyrant--not a -slave: we cannot bind him to the chariot wheels of reason; we cannot -make him bow his neck beneath the yoke of judgment. On the contrary, -we can but yield and obey. There is but one power on earth that can -restrain him, Eugenie--Virtue! but everything else is vain. And, oh! -how many ways have we of deceiving ourselves! The sun will cease to -rise, Eugenie--summer and winter, night and day, forget their course, -ere love, in the heart of woman, wants a wile to cheat her belief to -what she wishes. Even now, Eugenie, even now, I believe and hope; and -I fancy often that, though misled by things whose emptiness he will -soon discover, the time will come when Love will re-assert his empire -in a heart that is naturally noble. It may be all in vain!" she added, -with a deep sigh; "it may be all in vain! yet, who would willingly put -out the last faint, lingering flame that flickers on Hope's altar?" - -"Not I!" said Eugenie, echoing her friend's sigh; "not I, -indeed!--Would that he were worthy of you, Beatrice! Would that he -were worthy of you!" she added, after a momentary pause; during which, -perhaps, her mind was struggling back to the real subject of their -conversation from some path of association, into which it had been led -by her companion's last words. "Would that he were worthy of you! but -if his fickle and wayward nature could never be endured by me, who can -bear much, how much less would it suit you, Beatrice, who, I am -afraid, are calculated to bear but little!" - -"You know not how much I have already borne, Eugenie," replied -Beatrice; "you know not how much love can bear: though, yes, perhaps -you do," she added, in a lighter tone; "at least, there are those who -know well how much--how very much--they could bear for love of Eugenie -de Menancourt." - -The warm blood spread red and glowing over Eugenie's fair face. "I -know not whom you mean, Beatrice," she said, gravely: "I know none -that love me; and few that are capable of loving at all--if you speak -of men." - -"Nay, ask me not his name!" said Beatrice, the gaiety of her tone -increasing, as she marked, or thought she marked, a greater degree of -confusion in her friend's countenance than the subject would have -produced in other persons brought up regularly in the sweet and -pleasant pastime of deceit. "Nay, ask me not his name! I am no maker -of fair matches, nor half so politic, as this world goes, to endeavour -to marry my friend to the first person that presents himself, solely -to rid myself of the presence of her beauty." - -"Nay, but dear Beatrice," replied Mademoiselle de Menancourt, "I know -no one who has even seen that beauty, if so it must be called, for -many a month: so indeed you are mistaken." - -"Nay, nay, not so," answered Beatrice, smiling; "a few hours, a few -minutes, a single instant, are enough, you know, Eugenie: and for the -rest, indeed I am not mistaken. I would stake my life, from what I -have seen--from signs infallible--that you are loved deeply, truly, -with all the ardour of a first passion in a young--a very young -heart." - -"Pray God, it be not so!" cried Eugenie; "for it were but unhappiness -to himself and to me." - -"Are you so cold, then, Eugenie, that you cannot love?" asked -Beatrice, with a smile; "or is that sweet heart occupied already by -some one who fills it all?" - -Eugenie smiled too, and shook her head; but there was once more a deep -blush spread over her face; and though it might be but the generous -flush of native modesty, Beatrice read in it a contradiction of her -words, as she replied, "No, no, not so, indeed! Perhaps I may be cold; -as yet I cannot tell, for no one has ever yet spoken to me of love -whose love I could return. But, even could I do so, Beatrice, would it -not be grief to both, as here I remain in the hands of others, unable -to dispose of myself but as they please?" - -"Out upon it, Eugenie!" cried Beatrice; "'tis your own fault if you -are not your own mistress in an hour. Never was there a time in France -when woman--the universal slave--was half so free." - -"But what would you have me do?" demanded Eugenie. "With a thousand -eyes constantly upon me, I see not how I could obtain more freedom, or -dispose of myself, were I so inclined." - -"As easy as sit here and sew," cried Beatrice. "Here is the King -claims the disposal of your hand, and the League claims it too; and, -between them both, you can give it to whom you will. Fly from Paris! -Betake yourself where you will, but not to the court of Henry; for his -tyranny might be greater than even that of the League. Then, make your -choice. Give your hand to him you love; and be quite sure, that the -party that your good lord shall join will sanction your marriage with -all accustomed forms." - -"But if I love no one?" said Eugenie, with a smile. - -"Why then, live in single simplicity till you do," replied Beatrice, -with an incredulous shake of the head. "But, at all events, fly from -the yoke they now put upon you." - -"Fly, Beatrice?" answered Eugenie; "fly, and how? How am I to fly, -with a city beleaguered on all sides; a watchful Argus in the League, -with its thousand eyes all round me: having none to guide me, and not -knowing where to go;--how am I to fly?" - -"By a thousand ways," answered her friend, laughing at her -embarrassment. "Change your dress, in the first place: put on a -petticoat of crimson satin embroidered with green, together with a -black velvet body and sleeves, cut in the fashion of the Duchess of -Valentinois, of blessed memory!--a cloak of straw-coloured silk, a -_capuche_ of light blue cloth broidered with gold, a mass of grey hair -under a black cap, and a _vertugadin_ of four feet square. Dress -yourself thus, and call yourself Madame la Presidente de Noailles; -and, by my word, the guards will let you pass all the gates, and thank -God to get rid of you! Or, if that does not suit you, take the gown -and bonnet of a young advocate," she continued in the same gay tone; -"hide those pretty lips and that rounded chin under a false beard from -Armandi's; and be very sure the guards would as soon think of stopping -you as they would of stopping the prince of darkness, who, after all, -is the real governor of this great city. Nothing keeps you here but -fear, my Eugenie! Why, I will undertake to go in and out twenty times -a day, if I please." - -"Ay, but you have a bolder heart than I have," answered Eugenie de -Menancourt; "and I know full well, Beatrice, that a thing which, -executed with a good courage, is done with ease, miscarries at the -first step when it is attempted by timidity and fear. The very thought -of wandering through the gates of Paris alone makes me shrink." - -"But I will go with you, Eugenie," replied Beatrice, "and will answer -for success whenever you like to make the attempt." - -Eugenie paused, and thought for several moments, fixing her fine eyes -upon vacancy with a faint smile and a longing look, as if she would -fain have taken advantage of her friend's proposal, yet dared not make -the attempt. "Not yet, dear Beatrice--not yet!" she answered: "I dare -not, indeed, unless some sharp necessity happens to give me temporary -courage. As long as they refrain from urging me to wed one I can never -love, and from pressing on me any other in his room, so long will I -stay where I am." - -"But see that your decision come not too late, Eugenie," answered her -friend. "They may soon begin to press you on the subject; and, when -once they find you reluctant, they may take measures to prevent your -flight." - -"I do not think they will press me," answered Eugenie. "First, in -regard to Philip d'Aubin, they will never favour him, as he is of the -party of the King; and, in regard to any other, they know full well -that I could, if I would, urge my father's promise to him." - -"But you would not do it!" exclaimed Beatrice. - -"No, Beatrice, no!" answered Eugenie, laying her hand kindly upon -hers; "no, I would rather die!" - -"But hear me," said Beatrice, somewhat eagerly; "think of all that may -happen. A thousand things may tempt D'Aubin to quit the royal party. -He may come over to the League--he may urge your father's promise--he -may obtain the sanction of Mayenne:--what will you do then?" - -"Fly to the farthest corner of the earth," replied Eugenie, "sooner -than fulfil a promise that was none of mine, and against which my -whole heart revolts on every account. Listen, Beatrice; I do believe -that, in the moment of need, I shall not want courage, and certainly -shall not want resolution. Should I have any reason to fear -compulsion, but too often used of late, I will take counsel with none -but you; you shall guide me as you think fit, and I will fly anywhere, -rather than give my hand to one I cannot love." - -"Write me but five words," replied Beatrice, "write me 'Come to me -with speed,' and send it by a page when you want assistance, and doubt -not but I will find means to deliver you, were you at the very altar. -But, hark! I hear steps upon the staircase, and horses before the -house; and I must resume all my bold and haughty bearing, and put on -the mask, which I have laid aside to Eugenie de Menancourt alone." - -As she spoke, she drew her chair a little further from that of her -friend; and, placing it in the exact position which the ceremonious -intercourse of that day pointed out, she remained with the glove drawn -off from one fair hand, which, dropping gracefully over the arm of the -_fauteuil_, continued to hold her small black mask, twirling it as -listlessly round and round as ever the fair hand of fashionable dame -in our own days played with a glove, to show her skin's whiteness or -her brilliant rings. Eugenie de Menancourt's eyes sought the door with -an expression of anxiety; but Beatrice, on the contrary, gazed -vacantly through the window towards the buildings on the opposite side -of the river; and the visitors had entered the room, and were already -speaking to her friend, before she appeared to be conscious of their -presence, or condescended to notice them. Turning her head at length, -she fixed her eyes upon a square-built, powerful man, with a somewhat -heavy, but not unpleasing, countenance; who, richly dressed, and -followed by two or three gentlemen, in a more gay and smart, but not -more magnificent, costume, was speaking to Mademoiselle de Menancourt, -with all that courteous respect which chivalrous times, then just -passing away, had left behind them. - -"Good morrow, my lord Duke!" said Beatrice, as the visitor turned -towards her: "I anticipated not the pleasure of seeing your Highness -here to day. Good faith! have you so much ease in a beleaguered city, -as to exercise your horses in visiting ladies before noon? On my -honour, I will be a soldier, for 'tis the idlest life I know, and only -fit for a woman." - -"I came but to ask briefly after your fair friend's health," replied -the Duke; "and knew not that I should have to risk with you, gay lady, -one of our old encounters of sharp words. I trust, however, your -health is better." - -"Did you ever see me look more beautiful, Duke of Mayenne?" asked -Beatrice, with a gay toss of her head; "and can you ask if I am ill? -But as to my _friend's_ health, if you would that she should be well, -and keep well, let her go out of Paris, home to her own dwelling; and -keep her not here, where one is surrounded, night and day, with the -sound of cannon and arquebuses. Do you intend that it should be said, -in future, that carrying on the war against women and children was -first introduced into modern Europe by the Duke of Mayenne and the -Catholic League, that you keep a lady here a close prisoner in your -beleaguered capital?" - -"Not as a prisoner, fair lady," answered the Duke of Mayenne; "God -forbid that either I or she should look upon her situation as one of -imprisonment; but, being lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and, -consequently, her lawful guardian and protector, till marriage gives -her a better, I should be wanting both in duty and in courtesy, were I -to leave her in a distant and distracted province, in a time of -unfortunate civil war." - -"Well explained and justified, my good lord Duke," cried Beatrice, -who, both in right of rank and beauty, treated the ambitious leader of -the League as equal to equal. "And yet, after all, my lord, has not -that same marriage that you mention some small share in your tenacious -kindness? Did you ever hear, my lord, of a rat-catcher giving the rats -the bait out of his trap, from pure affection for the heretic vermin?" - -The Duke of Mayenne first reddened, and then smiled; either more -amused than angry at the gay flippancy of his fair opponent, or -judging it best, at least, to appear so. "Your similes savour of a -profession that I know not, fair lady," he replied; "but if you mean, -Lady Beatrice, that hereafter I may dispose of your fair friend's -hand in such a manner as seems to me most conducive towards her -happiness--if you mean that," he repeated, in a marked tone, "I deny -not that you are right. Yet I would fain know who has a better right -to do so than the lieutenant-general of the kingdom?" - -"Oh! no one, surely!" answered Beatrice, in the same tone of mingled -pride and gaiety--"no one, surely, my lord, except the King of that -kingdom, or the poor frightened girl herself." - -"Come, come, fair lady," cried Mayenne, laughing; "you carry your jest -so far, that I will bid you take care what you say farther, lest I -should dispose of your hand for you, too, for the purpose of showing -you--to use your own figure--that I have more baits than one to my -rat-trap." - -"Indeed, lord Duke, you count wrongly, if you reckon that I am one," -replied Beatrice. "You know too well that the task would neither be a -very safe nor very easy one, to try to wed me to any one against my -will. You may be lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and I, for -one--being not of this kingdom, and thinking much better of you than -of the crowned Vice at St. Cloud--will not deny your right; but you -are not lieutenant-general of Beatrice of Ferrara; and you might find -it more difficult to govern her than half the realm of France; and so, -good morrow! Love me, Eugenie; and do not let these men persuade you -that they are half such powerful and terrible things as they would -make themselves appear. Fare you well!" - -Each of the gentlemen in the prince's suite stepped forward to offer -his hand to the gay, proud beauty, whose tone of light defiance had -something in it more attractive to the general youth of those excited -times, than all the retiring graces and gentle modesty of Eugenie de -Menancourt. Beatrice scarcely noticed them while her friend took leave -of her, but as soon as the embrace was over, she ran her eye over the -three or four cavaliers who stood round, and, singling out one, gave -him her hand, saying, "My lord of Aumale, I believe you are the only -one here present, except my lord Duke, who never whispered that you -loved me; and therefore I doubt not that you _do_ love me enough -to--hand me to my carriage." - -The young noble, to whom she addressed herself, answered with all -those professions which the formal gallantry of the day not only -permitted, but required, and led her down to the rudely formed, but -richly decorated, vehicle, which was the carriage of those days. - -In the meanwhile, Eugenie de Menancourt remained waiting in some -suspense, to hear the real object of the visit paid her by the Duke of -Mayenne, the purport of which she could not conceive was merely to -inquire after her health. Whether, however, the great leader of the -League judged that his conversation with Beatrice of Ferrara was not -the most favourable prelude to anything he had to say to the young -heiress, or whether he really came but to trifle away a few minutes in -a visit of ceremony, it is certain that he said nothing which could -induce Eugenie to imagine that he had any immediate view of pressing -her to a marriage with any one. After spending about ten minutes in -ordinary conversation, upon general and uninteresting subjects, and -expressing many a wish for the comfort and welfare of his fair ward, -as he did not fail to style Mademoiselle de Menancourt, Mayenne rose, -and left her to the enjoyment of solitude and her own reflections, -which, for the time, were sweetened by the hope, that the evils to -which her situation might ultimately give rise were yet remote. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The carriage which contained Beatrice of Ferrara rolled on with slow -and measured pace through the narrow and tortuous streets of old -Paris, till at length, as it was performing the difficult man[oe]uvre -of turning a sharp angle, it was encountered by a small party of -horsemen, in the simple garments of peace, which, at that warlike -period, was a less common occurrence than to see every one who could -bear them clad in grim arms. The right of staring into carriages, when -the velvet curtains were withdrawn, was already established in Paris; -and it needed but a brief glance to make the principal cavalier of the -group draw in his bridle rein, beckon the coachman to stop, and, -springing to the ground, approach the _portiere_ of the vehicle -wherein Beatrice was placed. As usual in those days, she was not -alone; but, while a number of lackeys graced the outside of her -carriage, two or three female attendants were seated in the interior -of the machine, leaving still a space within its ample bulk for many -another, had it been necessary. More than one pair of eyes were thus -upon her; and yet Beatrice, though brought up in a court--where -feelings themselves were nearly reckoned contraband, and all -expression of them prohibited altogether--could not repress the very -evident signs of agitation which the approach of that cavalier -occasioned. Her cheek reddened, her breathing became short, and she -sank back upon the embroidered cushions of the carriage, as if she -would fain have avoided the meeting. The agitation lasted but a -moment, however; and as soon as he spoke, she was herself again: -perhaps gaining courage from seeing that his own cheek was flushed, -and that his own voice trembled as he addressed her. - -"A thousand, thousand pardons, lady!" he said, standing bareheaded by -the door, "for stopping your carriage in the streets; but these -unfortunate wars have rendered it so long since we have met, that most -anxious am I----!" - -"My lord Count d'Aubin," replied Beatrice, raising her head proudly, -"the time of your absence from Paris has not seemed to me so long as -to make me rejoice that it is at an end!" - -"I have no right to expect another answer," replied D'Aubin, in a low -voice; "and yet, Beatrice, perhaps I could say something in my own -defence." - -"Which I should be most unwilling to hear," replied the lady, coldly. -"I doubt not, sir Count, that you can say much in your own defence: I -never yet knew man that could not, but a plain idiot, or one born -dumb. But what is your defence to me? I am neither your judge nor your -accuser. If your own heart charges you with ambition, or avarice, or -falsehood, plead your cause with it, and, doubtless, you will meet -with a most lenient judge. Will you bid the coachman drive on, sir? -this is a foolish interruption, and a narrow street." - -"Oh, Beatrice!" exclaimed the Count d'Aubin, piqued by her coldness, -"at least delay one moment, till you tell me you are well and happy: I -have just heard that you have been ill--very ill." - -"I have, sir," she replied; "I caught the fever that was prevalent -here; but I am well again, as you see, and should be perfectly happy, -if I did not hear King Henry's artillery above once a week, and if -people would not stop my carriage in the streets." - -"And is that all you will say to me, Beatrice?" asked the Count, in -the same low tone which he had hitherto used--"is that all you will -say, after all that has passed?" - -"I know nothing, sir, that has passed between us," replied Beatrice -aloud, "except that once or twice, in a fit of wine or folly, you -vowed that you loved Beatrice of Ferrara better than life, or wealth, -or rank, or station; and that she received those vows as she has done -a thousand others, from a thousand brighter persons than Philip Count -d'Aubin, namely, as idle words, which foolish men will speak to -foolish women, for want of better wit and more pleasant conversation; -as words which you had probably spoken to a hundred others, before you -spoke them to me, and which you will yet, in all probability, speak to -a hundred more, who will believe them just as much as I did, and -forget them quite as soon. Once more, sir, then, will you order the -coachman to drive on, or let me do so, and retire from the wheel, lest -it strike you, and the Catholic League lose a valiant convert by an -ignoble death?" - -"Nay, there at least you do me wrong!" replied the Count d'Aubin: "the -Catholic League has no convert in me; I am here, under a safe conduct, -on matters of no slight importance to my good cousin St. Real: but to -his Majesty will I adhere, so long as he and I both live!" - -"Indeed!" cried Beatrice, with a light laugh. "Is there anything in -which the fickle Count d'Aubin will not be fickle? Nay, nay, make no -rash vows; remember, you have not yet heard all the golden arguments -which his Highness, the lieutenant-general of the kingdom and the -League can hold out. Suppose he offer you the hand of some rich -heiress; could you resist, sir Count? could you resist?" - -D'Aubin coloured, perhaps because Beatrice had gone deeper into the -secrets of his inmost thoughts than he felt agreeable. He answered, -however, boldly, "I could resist anything against my honour." - -"Honour!" exclaimed Beatrice, with a scoff: "honour! Marguerite, tell -the coachman to drive on. Honour!" - -D'Aubin drew back, with an air at once of pain and anger, made a -silent sign to the coachman to proceed, and, springing on his horse, -galloped down the street, followed by his attendants, at a pace which -risked their own necks upon the unequal causeway of the town, and -which certainly showed but little consideration for the safety of the -passengers. The emotions of Philip d'Aubin, however, were such as did -not permit of consideration for himself or others. He felt himself -condemned, and he believed himself despised, by the only woman that, -perhaps, he had ever truly loved. The better feelings of his heart, -too, rose against him: he knew that his conduct was ungenerous; and he -felt that, had the time been one when faith and honour towards woman -were aught but mere names, his behaviour would have been dishonourable -in the eyes of mankind, as well as in the stern code of abstract right -and wrong: and unhappy is the man who has no other means of justifying -himself to his own heart but by pleading the follies and vices of his -age. D'Aubin did plead those follies and vices, however, and he -pleaded them successfully, so far as in soon banishing reflection -went; but there was a sting left behind, which was the more bitter, -perhaps, as mortified vanity had no small share in the pain that he -suffered. He had believed that he could not so soon be treated with -scorn and indifference; he had fancied that his hold on the heart of -Beatrice of Ferrara was too strong to be shaken off so easily; and -though he had no definite object in retaining that hold, though other -passions had for the time triumphed over affection, and placed a -barrier between himself and her which he was not willing to overleap, -yet still the lingering love that would not be banished was wounded by -her bitter tone; and, joined to humbled pride and offended vanity, -made his feelings aught but pleasing. - -In the meantime, the carriage of Beatrice of Ferrara bore her on with -a heart in which sensations as bitter were thronging; though, as we -have seen in her conversation with Eugenie de Menancourt, her feelings -towards her lover were less keen and scornful than her words might -lead him to believe. On the state of her bosom, however, there is no -necessity to dwell here, as many an occasion will present itself for -explaining it in her own words; and it may be better, also, to let her -thus speak for herself, because in endeavouring to depict -abstractedly, by means of cold descriptions, that varying and -chameleon-like thing, the human heart, one is often led into seeming -contradictions, from the infinite variety of hues which it takes, -according to the things which surround it. - -The carriage rolled on and entered the court-yard of the splendid -mansion in which she dwelt. Here Beatrice alighted; but she did not go -into the house, for a hand-litter or chair,--one of the most ancient -of French conveyances,--waited under the archway, as if prepared by -her previous order, with its two bearers, and a single armed -attendant; and this new conveyance received her as soon as she set -foot out of the other. The door was immediately closed, and the -blinds, filled with their small squares of painted glass, were drawn -up, Beatrice merely saying to the attendant who stood beside her as -she shut out the gaze of the passers-by, "To Armandi's!" - -The bearers instantly lifted their burden, and began their course at -the same peculiar trot which has probably been the pace of chair-men -in all ages; nor from this did they cease or pause till they reached -one of the most showy, if not one of the richest, shops in the city. -Standing forth from the building, under a little projecting penthouse, -to secure the wares against both sun and rain, was along range of -glass cases, containing every sort of cosmetic then in vogue, from the -plain essence of violets, wherewith the simple burgher's wife perfumed -her robe of ceremony, to the rich ointment compounded from a thousand -rare ingredients, wherewith the King himself masked his own effeminate -countenance against the night air whilst he slept. Behind these cases -was the shop itself, hanging in which might be seen a crowd of various -objects for the gratification of vanity and luxury,--the black velvet -mask, or loupe, the embroidered and many-coloured gloves, the splendid -hair-pins and enamelled clasps, the girdles of gold and silver -filigree and precious stones, together with many another part of dress -or ornament, some full of grace and taste, some fantastic and absurd, -and some scarcely within the bounds of common decency. Beyond the -shop, again, but separated from it by a partition of glass, covered in -the inside with curtains of crimson silk, was the inner shop, or most -private receptacle for all those peculiarly rich or fragile wares -which Armandi, the famous perfumer of that day, did not choose to -expose, to tempt cupidity, or lose their freshness, in the more -exposed parts of his dwelling. Here, too, report whispered, were -concealed those drugs and secret preparations, his skill in -compounding which, it was said, had been much more the cause of his -great favour with Catherine de Medicis than his art as a perfumer, -which was the ostensible motive of her calling him from Italy to take -up his abode in her husband's capital. However this might be, certain -it is that, after the sudden death of the Queen of Navarre, the -suspicions of the Huguenots turned strangely against Armandi, to whose -diabolical skill they very generally attributed the loss of their -beloved princess: and it is more than probable that he would have -fallen a victim to their indignation, whether just or unjust, had not -the horrors of St. Bartholomew shortly after delivered him from the -presence of his adversaries in Paris. - -Nevertheless, although suspicion might be strong, and the man's -character as infamous as such suspicions could render it, yet the shop -of Armandi was not less the resort of the beautiful and the fair, and -even of the gentle and good: for it is most extraordinary how far -female charity will extend towards those who contribute to the -gratification of vanity and satisfy the thirst for novelty. The newest -fashions, the most beautiful objects of art and luxury, the freshest -and most costly rarities were nowhere to be found but at his shop; and -no one chose to believe that Armandi dealt in poisons--but those who -wanted them. - -Thither, then, the chair, or _litiere encaissee_, as it was called, of -Beatrice of Ferrara, was borne at an hour when the greater part of the -gay Parisians were busy with that employment which few people love -better, namely, that of eating the good things which their own -gastronomic art produces. The bearers halted not at the steps which -led into the shop, but proceeded till the chair was brought parallel -to a door in the partition, between the outer and the inner chamber, -so that she could pass at once from the one into the other. Her -countenance, however, bore but little the expression of one going to -buy trinkets, or to amuse oneself by turning over the light -frivolities of such a place as that in which she stood. The usual fire -of her eye was somewhat quelled, and a degree of melancholy, perhaps -of anxiety, unusual with her at any time, had, since her meeting with -the Count d'Aubin, pervaded her whole countenance. The doors of the -partition and that of the chair had been both thrown open as soon as -the gilded lions' feet of the latter touched the floor, and there -stood the Signor Armandi, dressed in silks and velvets of rose colour -and sky blue, with his mustachio turning up almost to his eyes, and a -small jewelled dagger occupying the place of the sword, which his -calling did not permit him to wear in Paris. His face was dressed in -sweet complacent smiles; and, as he bowed three times to the very -ground before his lovely visiter, his head was certainly "dropping -odours;" for no one held his own perfumes in higher veneration than he -did himself. - -"Enchanted and honoured are my eyes to see you once again, lady most -fair and chaste!" said he, in high-flown Italian. "I heard that you -had been upon that sad couch, where the head is propped by the thorns -of sickness, rather than by the roses of love." - -"Hush, hush, Armandi!" cried Beatrice, with an impatient wave of the -hand; "you should know me better than to speak such trash to me. I -neither use your cosmetics, nor will hear your nonsense. I have come -upon more weighty matters." - -"For whatever you have come, most beautiful of the beautiful," replied -the other, affecting to subdue his exalted tone; "you have come to -command, and I am here to obey. Speak! your words are law to Armandi." - -"When followed by the necessary seal of gold, I know they are," -answered Beatrice, gravely. "Now hear me, then. I wish--I wish--" she -paused and hesitated, and the perfumer, accustomed to receive -communications of too delicate a nature to bear the coarse vehicle of -language, hastened to aid her. - -"You wish, perhaps," he said, in a soft voice, "to see some friend, -and require the magical influence of Armandi to bring him to your -presence----" - -"Out, villain!" cried Beatrice, her eyes flashing fire. "For whom do -you take me, pitiful slave? Do you fancy yourself speaking to Clara de -Villefranche, or Marguerite de Tours en Brie, or, higher still in rank -and infamy, Marguerite de Valois? Out, I say! Talk not to me of such -things;--I wish--I wish--" - -"Perhaps you wish to see some friend no more," said the soft voice of -the perfumer, apparently not in the least offended by the hard terms -she had given him, and equally disposed to do her good and -uncompromising service of any kind. "Perhaps you wish the magical -influence of Armandi to remove from your sight some one who has been -in it too long, and troubles you?" - -A bitter and painful smile played round the beautiful lips of Beatrice -of Ferrara, while, bowing her head slowly, she replied, after a -moment's thought, "Perhaps I do." - -"Then I am right at last," said Armandi, softly, rubbing his hands -together. "I am right at last; and you have nothing to do, fair lady, -but to name the person, and the time, and the manner, and it shall be -done to your full satisfaction; though I must hint that all the -preparations for rendering disagreeable people invisible are somewhat -expensive; and the amount depends greatly upon the mode. Would you -have it slow and quietly, that he or she should disappear? That is the -best and easiest plan, and also the least expensive--for there is the -less risk." - -"No!" replied Beatrice, firmly, "I would have it act at once--in a -moment, and so potently, that no physician on the earth can find skill -sufficient to undo that which has been done." - -"Of the latter be quite sure," replied the perfumer. "But with regard -to the former, it is much more dangerous, as a sudden catastrophe -leads instantly to examination. Now, a few drops of sweet _aqua -tophana_ has its calm and tranquillizing effects so gradually, that no -doubt or suspicion is awakened; and you can surely wait patiently for -a month, or a fortnight, to give it time to act?" - -"You mistake," replied Beatrice, thoughtfully; "you mistake: yet say, -how are such things managed? Let me hear, that I may judge." - -"Why, lady," replied Armandi, with a mysterious smile, "there are -secrets in all things on this earth, from the fine composition of a -lady's heart, to the simples of poor Armandi. Nevertheless, although -the mysteries of the art must remain hidden in my own bosom, as I -enjoy the blessing of having been born in the same land with one so -beautiful, and as I know that you were deeply beloved by my late royal -and honoured mistress, though somewhat frowning on the soft pleasures -of her court, I will, without reserve, reveal to you how your purpose -may be best effected." - -Thus saying, he took a small silver key from his pocket, and opened a -Venetian cabinet, that stood near. "See here!" he said, producing a -small gilded phial, containing, apparently, a quantity of a perfectly -limpid fluid; "see here! the water that Adam found in the first -fountain he met in Eden was not more clear than this; and yet the -fruit of the tree that stood near it was not more certain death. No -odour is to be discerned therein: to the eye it has no colour; to the -lip no taste; and yet, like many another thing, with all this seeming -simplicity, it is the most potent of all things, having power -unlimited over life and death. Three drops of this, in the simplest -beverage, will ensure that slow and gradual decay, which, at the end -of a year, shall leave him who drinks it a clod in his mother earth. A -larger dose will shorten the time by one half; and a larger still will -reduce the time to a few weeks or days. The only difficulty is how to -give it: but that I will find means for when I know the person." - -"It will not do!" replied Beatrice; "it will not do! it is not quick -enough. Have you no other means?" - -"Many, lady! many!" replied the perfumer, smiling; "but, in good -sooth, you are as impatient as a young lover. All our art has been -tasked to render the means at once slow and secure, so as, in cases of -necessity, to effect our deliverance from enemies without calling -suspicion on ourselves. See here! this artificial rose, so like the -natural flower, that the eye must be keen, indeed, which, at the -distance of half a yard, could detect the difference. The scent, too, -is the same----" - -"But why do you keep it under that glass ball?" demanded Beatrice, -interrupting the long description with which he was proceeding. - -"Because, lady," replied the Italian, "that rose, placed in as fair a -bosom as your own, and worn there for one half-hour, would lose its -scent, and the wearer health and life within a week. Its odour, -therefore, is too valuable to trust to the common air." - -"And those gloves?" asked Beatrice; "those gloves, so beautifully -embroidered, for what purpose are they designed?" - -"Heaven forbid that I should see them on your hands!" replied Armandi; -"though I have heard that they were once worn by a queen--who is since -dead. But you spoke of quicker means. Here is this small box of -powder, containing a certain salt that, in the twinkling of an eye, -extinguishes the fire of the heart, and the light of the mind, and -leaves nothing but the ashes behind. We often use it, diluted with -other things, for other purposes; but I would not administer one dose -of that, to any one of note, for a less sum than ten thousand golden -Henrys, though the whole box is scarcely worth a hundred crowns. But -so quick is its effect, and so marked the traces that it leaves -behind, that the chirurgeon were a fool who did not at once pronounce -the cause of death in him who took it." - -"Give me yon _bonbonničre_," said Beatrice, pointing to a painted -trifle on one of the tables. "And now," she continued, as the man gave -it her, "is that enough for one dose?" and as she spoke, she emptied -part of the powder from the box which contained it into the -_bonbonničre_--"Is that enough for one dose?" - -"It is enough to kill the King's army!" replied the man. "But what -mean you, lady? What do you intend to do?" - -"The person for whom I mean this drug," replied Beatrice, "shall -receive it from no hands but my own. You shall risk nothing. There is -a jewel, worth one half your shop," she added, drawing a ring from her -finger, and casting it upon the table; "and the powder is mine." - -"But, lady! lady!" cried the perfumer, regarding the diamond with -eager and experienced eyes, and yet trembling for the consequences -which his fair visitor's strong passions might bring upon himself; -"but, lady, if you should be discovered! You are young and -inexperienced in such matters. They must be performed with a calm -hand, and a steady eye, and an unquivering lip: and if you should be -discovered, and put to the torture, you would betray me." - -"However I may contemn thee, man," answered Beatrice, "there is no -power on earth that could make me betray thee. But rest satisfied; I -take the powder from thee, whether thou wilt or not;--but I will make -thee easy, and tell thee, that if one grain thereof ever passes any -human lip, that lip will be my own. It is well to be prepared for all -things--to have ever at hand a ready remedy for all the ills of -life--to possess the means of snatching ourselves from the grasp of -circumstance: and, in the path which I may be called to tread, the -time may well come when I shall wish to change this world for another. -I leave to better moralists to decide whether it be right or not, -courageous or cowardly, to shake off a life that we are tired of. For -my part, I will bear it to the utmost; and, when I can endure it no -longer, then will I try another path." - -"If such be your purpose, lady," answered the perfumer, with a sweet -smile, and a low inclination, "far be it from me to oppose you. Every -one, as you say, should be prepared for all things; and I hold that -man not half prepared who does not possess the means of limiting the -power his enemies have over him to simple death, a fate that all must -undergo. Men think far too much of death: it is but cutting off a few -short hours from a long race of pain and anxiety: far oftener is it a -mercy than a wrong. Men think too much of death!" - -"You think little enough of it in others, at least," answered -Beatrice, looking upon him with curiosity and hate, not unmingled with -that peculiar kind and degree of admiration, which wonder always more -or less produces. "Have I not heard that you were busy amongst the -busiest on the night of St. Bartholomew?" - -"Not I, lady! not I!" exclaimed the perfumer, with a look of disgust -and horror at the very name of that fearful massacre. "Not I, indeed! -not for the world would I have borne a part, either in that shameful -affair, or in the late brutal murder of the great Duke and the -Cardinal de Guise." - -"Why, how now!" cried Beatrice. "Would you, who hold life so lightly, -and take it so carelessly from others; would you affect scruples at -slaying those you consider heretics, or at putting away ambitious -tyrants?" - -"Lady, you mistake it altogether," answered the dealer in poisons, -with a grim smile. "The Huguenots are heretics, and damnable heretics, -since such is your good pleasure and the Pope's: but in that capacity -I have nought to do with them. The Guises were tyrants if you will; -though Heaven forbid that any ears but yours should hear me say so! -But they tyrannised not over me. What I objected to, was the manner of -the thing; and it is the manner that, in this world, makes the only -difference between crime and virtue. What is murder in one manner, is -war and glory in another; what is fraud in a merchant, is skill in a -minister; what is base when done in a burgher's coat and with a -simpering smile, is noble when done in royal robes and with a kingly -frown. Now, what could be more beastly, or brutal, or indecent, than -to cut the throats of some hundreds of men in their beds, stain all -their pillows with blood, and throw the old admiral himself, -half-naked, out of a window? What could be more cruel than to put them -for hours in mortal terror; inflict upon them excruciating wounds, -and, in some instances, leave them half dead, half-living, when the -whole might have been effected without pain, without fear, without -bloodshed, in the midst of some gay banquet, or some pleasant carouse: -where they would all have died as if they were going to sleep! Nay, -nay, lady! our late royal mistress made there a great and a cruel -mistake; and as for the Guises--Pho! was ever anything so stupid and -so filthy as to swim the King's own closet with gore, and have a man -reeling and tumbling about in the midst, under the strokes of -half-a-dozen daggers! I cannot conceive how the King, who is as -delicate a gentleman as any in all France, could consent to such an -indecency." - -Beatrice of Ferrara listened, but she thought deeply too; for there -was something in the character of the man who spoke--such a blending -of frivolity and foppery with cold-blooded villany, that it led her -thoughts far on into the wilds of speculation; and was not without its -moral for herself. She saw, from his example, how easy it is for any -one to persuade oneself of anything on earth, however much opposed to -reason, or to virtue. She saw that there are no bounds to self-deceit, -that it is illimitable, and that there was never yet a crime so base, -so horrible, so revolting, for which it will not find a pleasant mask -and a gay robe;--she saw it, and she began to doubt whether all her -own reasonings in regard to self-destruction had not derived their -strength from the same source. She resolved that, ere she ever thought -again of attempting such an act, she would consider well, and -scrutinise her own feelings minutely; but still, with the usual -weakness of human nature, she would not lose her hold upon the means -of doing that which she more than half believed to be wrong. Without -replying to the perfumer's dissertation, she turned thoughtfully -towards the door; but, as she did so, she took the poison which she -had purchased from the table, and concealed it in her bosom. - -Armandi hastened to open the door between the inner and the outer -shop, and, with low reverence, presented the tips of his delicate -fingers to lead the lady to her chair; but at that very moment the -clatter of many horses' feet, and the rush and murmur of a passing -crowd, made them both pause, and turn their eyes towards the street. -The matter did not remain long unexplained. A considerable body of -those mercenary soldiers, who, from their blackened arms, were called -the black reitters, were passing along before the house: but their -march through the streets of Paris was so common an occurrence, that -it would have attracted no crowd to gaze, in the present instance, had -not some additional circumstance given another kind of interest to -their appearance on this occasion. In the midst of them, however, well -mounted, but disarmed, appeared a handsome and noble-looking young -man--no other than the Marquis of St. Real--followed by about twenty -retainers, also disarmed, and bearing those black scarfs which were, -at that time, symbols of military mourning. There was nothing either -depressed or anxious in the countenance of St. Real; and he gazed -about at the many interesting objects which the streets of the capital -presented, with the calm and inquiring glance of a person mentally at -ease: but, at the same time, on either side of the file in which he -and his followers rode, appeared a body of the reitters, with their -short matchlocks rested on their knees, their hands upon the triggers, -and their matches lighted; evidently showing, that those they guarded -were brought into Paris in the condition of prisoners. - -The moment this spectacle met her eyes, Beatrice of Ferrara called to -the armed attendant who had accompanied her chair, and who, like his -mistress, had now turned to gaze upon the cavalcade as it passed by. -"Quick!" she cried, "follow them quick, Bertrand! follow them quick, -and leave them not till you see their prisoner safely lodged. Make -sure of the place, and then bring all the tidings you can gather to -me." - -The servant, accustomed to comprehend and to obey at once the orders -of a mistress whose mind was itself as rapid as the lightning, sprang -from the door, without a word, and, mingling in the crowd, followed -the reitters on their way. Beatrice remained in silence till the last -had passed, and then, entering her chair, was borne back to her own -dwelling. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -We must now turn to trace the proceedings of Philip Count d'Aubin, -who, riding on at full speed, drew not his bridle rein till he reached -the magnificent Hotel de Guise; where, pushing through the mingled -crowd of attendants and petitioners, that swarmed, round the _porte -cochere_ of the dwelling, in which, for the time, resided all the -power of Paris, if not of France, he advanced, with hasty steps and -abstracted look, to the foot of the great staircase. He had even -proceeded some way up the stairs ere he noticed, or even seemed to -hear, the reiterated inquiries regarding his name and business, which -were addressed to him by the various grooms and porters in his -progress. When, at length--called for a moment from his fit of -absence--he did condescend to speak, he merely mentioned his name, -without indicating in any manner which of the many persons that the -house contained was the object of his present visit. - -Although unacquainted with his person, the valet, who had at length -obtained an answer, happening to recall some of the court scandal of -former times, instantly, by an association not unnatural, connected -the coming of the Count d'Aubin with the presence of the Duchess de -Montpensier, the sister of the Duke de Mayenne, in the house at that -moment; and he proceeded forthwith to show the Count to her -apartments. D'Aubin entered the splendid saloon in which the Duchess -was sitting with the same thoughtful and abstracted air which had been -left behind by the strong and turbulent passions, that had just been -excited in his bosom by his interview with Beatrice of Ferrara. Madame -de Montpensier, surrounded by a group of the gay idlers of the -capital, who even at that time mingled in their character that degree -of levity and ferocity which marked with such dreadful traits the -first French revolution, was engaged in the seemingly puerile -employment of cutting out a paper crown with a huge pair of scissors, -the sheath of which, black, coarse, and disfiguring, was passed -through the silken girdle that spanned her beautiful waist. - -Shouts of laughter were ringing through the hall, when the valet -opened the door, and announced the Count d'Aubin. The Duchess -instantly looked up, with a smile of pleasure; but, remarking the -ruffled aspect of the Count, she instantly exclaimed--"Why, how now, -D'Aubin! how now! After so long an absence, do you come back to our -feet, not like a penitent suing for pardon, but rather like a harsh -husband, full of scoldings and tempests?" - -The cause of those gloomy looks, which she remarked, was not one which -Philip d'Aubin would willingly have communicated to the gay, satirical -Duchess de Montpensier, who, to the libertine freedom common to the -whole court, added many a wily art, and many a vindictive passion, -derived from the angry political factions of the time. The immediate -cause of his visit to Paris, however, afforded him a ready motive to -assign for his dark brow and agitated look. "Well may I be disturbed, -madam," he replied, after a hasty word of salutation, "when my noble -cousin, St. Real, confiding in an authentic pass, from the hands of -your Highness's brother, has been entrapped in the neighbourhood of -Senlis, and is now, as I am informed, a prisoner in Paris!" - -"Nay, but why bear such a countenance into our presence, Count -d'Aubin?" rejoined the Duchess; "I am guiltless of entrapping your -cousin, or of even trying to entrap yourself; though, once upon a -time," she added in a low tone, "I may have seen the Count d'Aubin a -tassel not unwilling to be lured;" and she looked up at him with a -glance in which reproach was so skilfully mingled with playfulness and -tenderness, that D'Aubin, although he knew that full two-thirds of the -pageant which daily played its part on her countenance, was mere -artifice, could not refrain from smiling in his turn. - -"Ever willing to be lured, dear lady, where the lure is fair!" he -replied; "and though I certainly came to speak reproaches, they were -not to you. I know not why your blockhead groom," he added, "brought -me hither, unless he divined, indeed, how much the sight of your -Highness softens all wrath. My business was with your brother, the -Duke of Mayenne." - -The Duchess muttered to herself--"That will never do! If he see -Mayenne, he will spoil the whole! I appeal to you, fair ladies and -gentlemen all," she exclaimed aloud, with one of those quick and happy -turns of artifice, which no one knew better how to employ, "if this is -not a high crime and misdemeanour in the court of love and gallantry, -to tell a lady, whom he dare not deny to be fair, that he came for any -other purpose on earth than to see herself?" - -"Blasphemy! blasphemy! utter blasphemy!" cried half a dozen voices. -"Judge him, fair lady, for his great demerits!" - -"Philip d'Aubin!" exclaimed the Duchess, putting on a theatrical air, -"you are condemned by your peers; but, under consideration of your -having been thoroughly brutalized, by a two months' residence at the -distance of a hundred leagues from Paris, we are inclined to show you -lenity: kneel down here, then; humbly, at our feet, confess your -crime! and swear upon this paper crown, which we have cut expressly -for the royal Henry's head, never to commit the like iniquity again!" - -D'Aubin had entered the apartment, not very well disposed to jest, but -yet the feelings which had oppressed him were of such a nature, that -he was quite willing to forget them; and the smiles of the Duchess de -Montpensier, as well as the tone of tenderness she assumed towards -him, together with the remembrance of many gay moments, spent in her -society long before, made him gladly enough take up the part that she -assigned him. Bending his knee gracefully before her, then, he made -confession of his crime, declared his penitence, and, vowing, in the -terms she had dictated, never to offend again, he stooped his head to -kiss the paper crown which she held upon her knee. At the same moment -the Duchess bent forward, as if to receive his vow, and, as she did -so, she whispered, rapidly, "Stay with me, D'Aubin, and I will soon -send these fools away." - -The Count replied nothing, but rose; and, still holding the paper -crown playfully in his hand, demanded, in his ordinary tone, what was -the real intent and purpose of that fragile mockery of the royal -symbol. - -The Duchess saw that he had heard, understood, and was prepared to -obey her whisper; and she replied, "'Tis exactly as I have told you, -most incredulous of men. When, by the fate of war, or by the blessing -of God, Henry, calling himself the Third, shall be brought in chains -into Paris, it might be expected that the sister of the murdered -Guise"--and as she spoke, her eye flashed for a moment with all the -fiery spirit of her race;--"it might be supposed that the sister of -the murdered Guise should not bound her wishes for revenge, till she -saw the assassin's blood flow like water in the kennel. But she is -more charitable, or, rather, he is too pitiful a thing to be worthy of -severe punishment. With these scissors shall be cut off his royal -locks, ere he quits the courtly world for the world of the cloister; -and on his head shall he bear this crown, from the door of Notre Dame -to the abbey of St. Denis, when he goes to take the vows that exclude -him for ever from the world." - -D'Aubin laughed. "So, this crown is for King Henry!" he exclaimed: -"and have you never thought, madam, of cutting out another, from some -different materials, for your noble brother of Mayenne?" - -"It must be an iron crown, then," replied the Duchess, tossing her -head proudly; "and he must hew it out for himself, with his good -sword." - -"Rather a Cyclopean labour," remarked D'Aubin; "rather a Cyclopean -labour I suspect! especially since Harry of Valois, to whom you deny -the crown, has chosen to turn up his hat with a Huguenot button." - -"We shall see, we shall see!" replied the Duchess: "I know, sir Count, -you laugh at all parties; so I understand not why you should cling so -fondly to the rabble of accursed murderers and heretics, who lie out -there at St. Cloud, like vipers in a garden." - -D'Aubin laughed outright at the Duchess's vehemence, and reminded her -that some of her near relations were amongst the rabble she so -qualified. - -"They are none the less vipers for that," she replied: and the -conversation taking a turn neither very wise nor very decent, may as -well be omitted in this place. It lingered on, however, from minute to -minute, without the Duchess making any apparent effort to fulfil the -promise she had made to D'Aubin, and send away the idlers by whom she -was surrounded. Too long accustomed to the intriguing society of -Paris, and too well acquainted with the character of the wily woman -with whom he had now to deal, not to be armed at all points against -every art and deception, D'Aubin began to suspect that the Duchess was -trifling with him for some particular purpose, and was seeking to -occupy him with other matters, till some moment of importance, to -himself or his cousin, was irretrievably lost. - -"Hark!" he exclaimed, as this thought crossed his mind; "there is the -clock of St. Gervais striking one, and I must really seek my lord the -Duke." - -"I hear no clock," replied the Duchess--nor could she, for none had -struck--"I hear no clock! But not yet, D'Aubin, not yet; I am not yet -going to slip the jesses of my _faucon gentil_, after having just -recovered him from so long a flight. Stay you with me, D'Aubin, and I -will send and see if my brother be within. You go, Mont-Augier," she -added, turning to one of the young cavaliers, who instantly sprang to -obey her; but, ere he reached the door, the Duchess, by a sudden -movement, placed herself near him; and, while D'Aubin was for a moment -occupied by some other person present, she said, in a low voice, "Do -not return, do not return: we must keep the Count away from Mayenne, -or they will together spoil some of our best schemes." - -D'Aubin's eye turned upon her; and his quick suspicions might have -gone far to counteract her purposes, had not Madame de Montpensier, -almost as soon as Mont-Augier's back was turned, contrived, on various -pretences, to dismiss the rest of her little court. Left thus alone -with a fascinating and beautiful woman, who condescended to court his -society, D'Aubin could not resist the temptation to trifle away with -her half an hour of invaluable time, though he knew all her arts, and -even suspected that, on the present occasion, they were employed -against him for insidious purposes. He was on the watch, however, and, -ere long, the clatter of many horses' feet in the court-yard caught -his attention, and led him instantly to conclude that the Duke of -Mayenne was about to go forth, without having seen him. It was now all -in vain that Madame de Montpensier, who likewise heard the sounds, and -attributed them to the same cause, endeavoured to occupy his attention -by every little art of coquetry. D'Aubin started up, and, in gay, but -resolute terms, expressed his determination of seeing the Duke ere he -left the house. - -To what evasion Madame de Montpensier would have had recourse, is -difficult to say; but, ere she could reply, the door opened, and a -lady entered, whom we will not pause here to describe. Suffice it, -that she was the widow of the murdered Duke of Guise, and that, though -her person wore the weeds, her face betrayed few of the sorrows, of -widowhood. - -"Catherine! Catherine!" she exclaimed, entering; "there is our slow -brother of Mayenne just returned, and calling for you so quickly that -one would think he were himself as nimble as Harry of Navarre." - -"Returned! I knew not that he was absent!" replied the Duchess de -Montpensier, with an air of irrepressible mortification, on finding -that all her arts had been thrown away, and, instead of preventing -D'Aubin from seeing her brother ere he went forth, had only tended to -keep the Count there till he returned. A meaning smile, too, on the -lip of D'Aubin, served to increase her chagrin; and she exclaimed, -with a slight touch of pettish impatience in her tone, "Well, well, I -go to him; and you, my fair sister, had better stay and console this -tiresome man, till my return." - -The Duchess of Guise saw that something had gone wrong; but D'Aubin -laughed, and replied, as Madame de Montpensier turned towards the -door, "May I request you to tell his Highness that the tiresome man -waits an audience; and, as his business will be explained in few -words, he will not detain the Duke so long as he has detained Madame -de Montpensier,--or as, perhaps, I might say, more truly, Madame de -Montpensier has detained him,--probably under a mistake;" and he made -her a low and significant bow, to which she only replied by shaking -her finger at him as she passed through the doorway. - -"Where is the Duke?" she demanded eagerly of the pages in the -corridor, who started up at her approach; and then, scarcely listening -to their answer, she hurried on to the room in which she expected to -find him, and opened the door without ceremony. The Duke was seated at -a table, hastily sealing some letters, while a courier, booted, -spurred, and armed, stood by his side, ready to bear them to their -destinations as soon as the packets were complete. - -"Why, how now, Catherine!" he exclaimed, turning towards her as she -entered, and, in so doing, spilling the boiling wax over his broad -hand, without suffering the pain to produce the slightest change of -expression on his heavy, determined countenance; "why, how now, -Catherine! you have been tampering, I find, with things wherein you -have no right to meddle. What is this business about the young Marquis -of St. Real? Is it not bad enough that that rash boy, Aumale, should -lose me a battle beneath the walls of Senlis, without my sister losing -me my honour?" - -"Tush, nonsense, Duke of Mayenne!" replied his sister; "Nonsense, I -tell you! If you intend that packet for Senlis, you may spare the wax, -and your trouble, and your fingers, for it shall never go!" - -"Indeed!" said the Duke, pressing firm upon it the broad seal of his -arms; "indeed! and why not? Do you not know me better than that, my -fair sister? Do you not know that my word, or my safe-conduct, was -never in life violated by myself, and never shall be violated by any -one else with impunity?" - -"All very true! all very true, Charles of Mayenne!" she replied; -"but, in the first place, I tell you that your safe-conduct cannot be -said to be violated, because some friends of mine choose to help this -young St. Real to pursue his journey on the very road for which the -safe-conduct was given; and, in the second place, there is no use of -sending to Mortfontaine or Nanteuil either, for within an hour St. -Real will be, I trust, in Paris." - -"Then within an hour he shall be set at liberty!" replied the Duke; -"for I shall suffer no quibbling with my honour: he shall be free to -come and free to go, till the term of the safe-conduct expires." - -"Nonsense, nonsense, Charles!" replied the Duchess; "do not talk like -the man in the mystery. Send this fellow away, and let me speak with -you calmly; for here is the Count d'Aubin already in the house; and, -if you go on vapouring in this way, you may miss a golden opportunity -of gaining more than the battle of Senlis has lost." - -The Duke made a sign for the courier to withdraw. "I know your skill -well, Kate!" he said, as the man left the room, "and am far from -wishing to counteract your views; but neither must you meddle with my -schemes, nor affect my honour. Now let me hear what it is you have -done, and what you propose to do." - -"For the done first, then," replied Madame de Montpensier: "what I -have done is simply this:--Hearing from good authority that this St. -Real had left his troops under the command of his Lieutenant, and, -while his cousin D'Aubin went to join Longueville, at Chantilly, had -shown a strong inclination to seek the camp of the Henrys before he -came to Paris, I thought it much better to change his destination, and -bring him hither, well knowing that the first step is all. So much for -the past! and now for the future. Leave him but in my hands two days; -and if, in that time, I do not find a way, by one means or another, to -make him put his hand to the Union, and draw his sword for Mayenne, -why, set him free, in God's name! and then talk of your honour and -your safe-conducts as much as you like. He shall be well and kindly -treated, upon my word!" - -The Duke smiled. "I doubt not that, Catherine," he said; "you and your -fair sister of Guise, who, I suppose, has some hand in the affair, are -not such hard-hearted dames, I know, as to use harsh measures, when -tender ones will do." - -"Well, well, Mayenne," she answered, "if we bestow our smiles to -promote your interest, you, at least, have no occasion to complain, -good brother: but you consent, is it not so?" - -"On condition that no harshness is used--that I know not where he -is--that I see him not--and, that he finds no means for applying for -liberation to me: for on the instant I set him free!" - -"Manifold conditions!" replied his sister; "but they shall be all -complied with. And now for the Count d'Aubin. If we can but win St. -Real, I will promise you D'Aubin; for I know one or two of the good -Count's secrets, which give me some tie upon him." - -"I hold him by a stronger bond," replied the Duke; "the bond of -interest, Catherine; for, by my faith, if he quit not soon him whom -Beatrice of Ferrara calls the crowned Vice at St. Cloud, I will give -the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt to some better friend of the League. -I am glad he is come, for I may give him a gentle notice to decide -more speedily." - -At the name of Beatrice de Ferrara, the cheek of Madame de Montpensier -reddened, and her brow contracted; and, without noticing the -concluding words of her brother, she replied, "I hate that woman, that -Beatrice of Ferrara!" and as she spoke, she moved absently towards the -door. The Duke marked her with a smile, and followed, saying, "Well, -well, where is this Count d'Aubin?" - -The Duchess led the way to the apartment in which he had been left -with the Duchess de Guise, and where she still found him, bandying -repartees with the fair widow, and with the Chevalier d'Aumale, who -had lately been added to the party. The entrance of the Duke of -Mayenne, however, at once put a stop to the light jests which were -flying thick and fast; and the Duke, without preface, entered upon the -subject of D'Aubin's journey to Paris. - -"Good morrow! Monsieur le Comte," said he, with an air of -unconsciousness, which his somewhat inexpressive countenance enabled -him easily to assume. "Right glad was I of your application for a -safe-conduct last night, doubting not that, by this time, you are -heartily tired of consorting with the effeminate rabble of painted -minions and Huguenot boors gathered together at St. Cloud, and are -come to support the Catholic faith, with a sharp sword, that has been -somewhat too long employed against her." - -"Your Highness's compliment to the sharpness of my sword," replied -D'Aubin, "does not, I am afraid, extend to the sharpness of my wit; -for the occurrences which have taken place within the last five days -are surely not calculated to bring over a cousin of the Marquis of St. -Real to the party of the Catholic League, or to raise very high the -character of dealers in Spanish Catholicon." - -The Duke of Mayenne turned a sharp and somewhat angry glance upon -Madame de Montpensier; but to D'Aubin he replied coldly, "You seem -angry, Monsieur le Comte d'Aubin; and as it is far from my wish to -give just cause for anger to a French nobleman, whose good sense, I am -sure, will, sooner or later, detach him from a party composed of all -that is either infamous or heretical, if you will explain the subject -of your wrath, I will do all that is in my power to satisfy you, if I -shall find your complaints just and reasonable." - -"My complaint is simply this, my lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, smiling -at the air of unconsciousness which Mayenne assumed:--"If my -imagination have not deceived me, somewhat less than a month -ago, Charles, Duke of Mayenne vouchsafed, under the title of -lieutenant-general of the kingdom, to grant a regular safe-conduct to -a noble gentleman called the Marquis of St. Real, in order that the -said Marquis might visit, in safety, the capital of this country, as -well as the court of King Henry, in order to judge between the -factions which strangle this unhappy land, and take his part -accordingly." - -"True," said the Duke of Mayenne, bowing his head, "true, we did so." - -"Well, then, my lord," continued D'Aubin, "is it not equally true -that, when my cousin, St. Real, thought fit to leave his forces at a -sufficient distance from either army to give him an opportunity of -joining which he pleased hereafter, and was advancing calmly to confer -with the King, he was entrapped by false information, surrounded by a -party wearing the green scarfs of the League, and carried off, in -direct contravention of the safe-conduct you had given him?" - -"I will not affect to deny, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied the Duke,--and -Madame de Montpensier looked in no small anxiety while he spoke; "I -will not affect to deny, that the rumour of some such skirmish as you -speak of has reached me--" - -"Skirmish, my lord Duke!" exclaimed D'Aubin; "there has been no -skirmish in the business; the simple facts are these:--My cousin, with -only twenty gentlemen in his train, was surrounded by a party of two -hundred men; and, of course, offered no resistance. He produced your -safe-conduct, however; but it was set at nought and the leaders of the -band gave him very sufficiently to understand, that they had your own -authority for what they did. Such, at least, is the account brought to -me by one of my cousin's attendants, who contrived to effect his -escape; and I now make the charge boldly and straightforwardly, in -order that you may have the opportunity of clearing yourself at once; -or, that the spot of darkness, which such a transaction must affix to -the character of the Duke of Mayenne, may be stamped upon it in -characters which no aftertime can efface." - -The Duke reddened, and bit his lip. "You make me angry, sir!" he -said--"you make me angry!" - -"No cause for anger, my lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, "if you be clear -of this transaction. It is I who am a friend to the character of the -Duke of Mayenne, by giving him an instant opportunity of clearing -it;--and let me say, my lord, if you be not free from share in this -business," he added, sternly and boldly, "you may find that you are -not the only one who is made angry: for, putting aside all respect to -your high rank, and to the station which you hold, I shall urge the -matter against you as noble to noble, and gentleman to gentleman." - -"Was ever the like heard?" exclaimed Madame de Montpensier. "Heed him -not, Brother of Mayenne! heed him not; the man is mad, raving mad!" - -"Not so mad, nor so foolish, lady," replied D'Aubin, his lip bending -into a slight smile, "as to be turned from my purpose, either by sweet -words, or angry ones. My lord Duke," he continued, approaching nearer -to the Duke of Mayenne, who had taken a hasty turn in the room, as if -to give his passion vent before he spoke; "my lord Duke, I mean not to -offend you; but my cousin has suffered wrong, and that wrong must be -redressed." - -"You have spoken too boldly, Count d'Aubin," replied Mayenne, to whom -the considerations of policy had by this time restored the calmness of -which personal anger had deprived him: "but I must make excuses for -the warmth of affection which you seem to bear your cousin; and, in -reply to your charge, I have merely to say, that the first correct -information respecting this event"--and he turned a somewhat -reproachful glance upon Madame de Montpensier--"has been received from -yourself; that the capture of your cousin was unauthorized by, and -unknown to me; that I know not precisely in whose hands he is; and, -that I promise you, upon my honour, he shall be set free as soon as -ever I meet with him. Farther still, I pledge myself to find him and -liberate him before three days have expired, and to punish, most -severely, those who are concerned, in case he have met with any -ill-treatment whatever." - -"Your promise goes farther than even I could expect, my lord Duke," -replied D'Aubin, in a softened tone; "and I most sincerely thank you -for having met so candidly a charge which I may, perhaps, have urged -too boldly, as your Highness says. Forgive my hastiness, my lord; for, -on my honour, in these times of indifference, it is sometimes -necessary to give way to a little rashness, in order to show that we -have some heart and feeling left." - -"We esteem you all the more highly for it," answered the Duke, "and -only regret, Monsieur d'Aubin, that one who can so well feel what is -right and noble, in some points, should attach himself to a party -stained with murder, treachery, falsehood, and many a vice that I will -not number; while sense, and wisdom, and good feeling should all -induce him to take the more patriotic part that we are in arms to -maintain." - -"And, let me add, his own interest also," said Madame de Montpensier, -"should lead him to join us here." - -"Wisely reserving the best argument for the last!" joined in the -Chevalier d'Aumale. "The great God Interest, first cousin to the -little God Mammon, is powerful both with Catholic and Huguenot, -Leaguer and Royalist; and doubtless, beautiful priestess, if you can -show that the Deity favours the League more than its opponents, you -will soon bring over Monsieur d'Aubin to worship at his shrine." - -"That can be easily shown," rejoined the Duke of Mayenne, following -the idea of the Chevalier d'Aumale, half in jest and half in earnest: -"Has not the god already put at our disposal sundry Huguenot lands and -lordships, purses well stuffed with gold, and, above all, the hand of -more than one fair heiress? On my word! Monsieur d'Aubin," he added, -assuming a more serious and feeling tone, "far would it be from me to -hold out to you views of interest, in order to bring you over to the -party of the Faith, did not those views of interest coincide entirely -with your honour, your reputation, and your duty." - -D'Aubin mused for a moment, and then answered laughing, "I never yet -did hear, my lord, that interest did not bring a long train of seeming -virtues, to give greater strength to her own persuasions: and yet, I -do not see how my honour could be raised by abandoning my king at a -moment of his greatest need; how my reputation could be increased by -quitting a party which I have long served; or how my duty is to be -done by breaking my oath of allegiance to my legitimate sovereign." - -"Thus, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied the Duke:--"if you are a man of -honour,--and most truly do I hold you to be such,--you will flee the -society of those who have none; if you have a fair reputation, you -will quit a court whose very breath is infamy; and, if you hold -sincerely to the Catholic faith, you cannot refuse to turn your sword -against its most inveterate enemies." - -"No, no, my lord!" replied D'Aubin; "King Henry holds the Catholic -faith as well as yourself; and, indeed, loves monks and priests rather -better than either you or I do. To him, also, have I sworn fidelity -and attachment, as my lawful sovereign; and I will neither break my -oath, nor forget my allegiance." - -"Thank God, that the thread of a tyrant's life is spun of very -perishable materials!" said Madame de Montpensier, with a significant -glance at the Duchess de Guise; "and were this Henry dead, we might -well count upon you, D'Aubin: is it not so?" - -D'Aubin replied not for a moment; and the soft sleepy-eyed Duchess of -Guise could not refrain from pursuing the subject jestingly; although -her sister-in-law endeavoured, by a chiding look, to stay her, till -D'Aubin had answered. "Perhaps the noble Count may be a Huguenot -himself." she exclaimed: "who knows, in these strange changeable -times----" - -"Or, perhaps, this dearly-beloved cousin of his may have been one -these twenty years," said the Chevalier d'Aumale; "for shut up in that -old castle of theirs, these St. Reals may have been Turks and -infidels, for anything that we can tell." - -"I wish there was as good a Catholic present as St. Real," replied -D'Aubin; "and as for myself, though not very learned in all its -mysteries, I hold the faith of my fathers, and will not abandon it. My -lord of Mayenne, I would fain speak with you for one moment, in this -oriel here," he added. - -The Duke of Mayenne instantly complied; and, advancing with the Count -into the deep recess of one of the windows at the farther end of the -room, he listened to what D'Aubin had to say, and then replied -gravely. The Count rejoined; and, though the subject which they -discussed seemed to interest them highly, it might be inferred, from -the laughter which occasionally mingled with their discourse, that -their conversation had taken a turn towards some topic less unpleasant -than that which had been broached at the beginning of their first -interview. - -In the meantime, however, a new personage had been added to the -party at the other end of the room. He was a tall gaunt man, of about -five-and-forty, with aquiline features, a keen kite-like eye, fine -teeth, and curly hair and beard: in short, he was one of those men who -are called handsome by people in whose computation of beauty the -expression of mind, and soul, and feeling make no part of the account. -His dress was not only military, but of such a character as to show -that his most recent occupation had been the exercise of his -profession. The steel cuirass was still upon his shoulders, the heavy -boots upon his legs; and, though some attempt had been made to brush -away the dust of a journey, a number of long brown streaks, on various -parts of his apparel, evinced, that whatever toilet he had made had -been hasty and incomplete. - -As soon as Madame de Montpensier caught the first glance of his person -entering the saloon, she made him an eager sign not to come in; but he -either did not perceive, or was unwilling to obey the signal, and -proceeded, with an air of perfect assurance, till the Duchess, -starting up, advanced to meet him; trusting, apparently, that the -eager conversation which was going on between D'Aubin and the Duke -would prevent either of them from remarking her man[oe]uvres at the -other end of the room. - -"What, in misfortune's name, brought you here?" she said, giving a -hasty glance towards the oriel, and perceiving at once that she must -make the best of what had occurred, for that D'Aubin's eye had already -marked the entrance of the stranger; "what, in misfortune's name, -brought you here just now? Here is D'Aubin himself inquiring furiously -after this young kestril, that we have taken such pains to catch; and -Mayenne, like a fool, standing on his honour, has promised to set him -free as soon as ever he finds dim. So you know nothing about the -matter: pretend utter ignorance; and swear you have never seen the -young Marquis." - -"That I can well swear," replied the other, in the same low tone, but -with a slight Teutonic accent; "that I can well swear, most beautiful -and charming of princesses! for I took especial care to keep out of -the way while the poor bird was being limed; and have ridden on before -to tell you that, by this time, he must be safe in my house, in the -rue St. Jacques." - -"Keep him close and sure, then," replied Madame de Montpensier, "at -least till his shrewd cousin is out of the city; for Mayenne will let -us keep him but two days; and we must work him to our purpose before -that time expires." She had just time to finish her sentence, ere -Mayenne and D'Aubin quitted the recess of the oriel window; and the -latter, advancing towards the place where she stood, addressed her -companion as an old acquaintance. - -"Ha! Sir Albert of Wolfstrom," he said, with an ironical smile, -"faithful and gallant ever! Receiving the soft commands of this -beautiful lady with the same devotion as in days of yore, I see! But I -have reason to believe that you are lately become acquainted with one -of my cousins, and have laid him under some obligations." - -"No, no;" replied Wolfstrom, with a grin, which showed his white teeth -to the back; "no, no: if you mean Monsieur de Rus, we have been very -intimate ever since that night when we three played together at -Vincennes, and when I won from you ten thousand livres, Monsieur -d'Aubin." - -"Well, well, I will win them back again," replied D'Aubin, "the first -truce that comes." - -"I don't know that," rejoined the German; "you are always unlucky with -the dice, D'Aubin: you should be more careful, or, by my faith, the -Jews will have all your fine estates in pawn." - -D'Aubin coloured deeply; for, as Wolfstrom well knew, the hint that he -threw out of excessive expenses, and consequent embarrassments, went -home. Mayenne, however, who by those words gained a new insight into -the situation of the Count, smiled, well satisfied; assured, from that -moment, that those who had it in their power to grant or to withhold -the hand of the rich heiress of Menancourt would not be long without -the support of Philip d'Aubin. - -The Count recovered himself in a moment; and, turning the matter off -with a pointed jest, which hit the German nearly as hard, he prepared -to take his leave before anything more unpleasant could be said. - -"I shall look for the performance of your promise, my lord Duke," he -said, as he turned to depart; "and three days hence, shall hope to -hear that my cousin has been liberated." - -"Come, to make sure of it, yourself," replied Madame de Montpensier, -holding out her hand, which he raised in gallant reverence to his -lips; "come and make sure of it, yourself. Sup with me at Rene -Armandi's, our dearly beloved perfumer, who has a right choice and -tasteful cook; and, though the profane rabble insist upon it that he -used to aid our godmother, of blessed memory, Catherine, mother of -many bad kings, in sending to heaven, or the other abode, various -persons, to prepare a place for her, we will ask him, on this -occasion, to give us dainties, and not poisons." - -"You must send me a safe-conduct, however," replied D'Aubin, laughing, -"and I will come with all my heart." - -"A safe-conduct you shall have," answered Mayenne, "and as many as you -like. But, remember, I do not make myself responsible for Armandi no, -nor Catherine, either," he added, with a smile. - -"Oh! I will trust her Highness," replied D'Aubin: "the only thing I -fear are her eyes;" and, with a low bow, and a glance which left it -difficult to determine whether the gallant part of his speech was jest -or earnest, he took his leave, and, mounting his horse, rode away -towards the gates of Paris. - -"He teases me, that Count d'Aubin," said Madame de Montpensier: "I -don't know whether to love him, or to hate him." - -"Oh! if he teases you, you will love him, of course," replied the -Chevalier d'Aumale. - -"I think you may love him, Kate," replied the Duke. "At all events, -one thing is very certain, that Philip Count d'Aubin is varying fast -towards the League; and if you, Catherine, by some of your wild -schemes, do not spoil my more sober ones, we shall soon have him as -one of our most strenuous and thoroughgoing partisans: for you know, -Wolfstrom," he added, laying his broad hand significantly upon the -iron-covered shoulder of the German, who, together with three thousand -lansquenets, had deserted from the party of Henry III. on the pretence -of wanting pay; "for you know, Wolfstrom, there is no one so zealous -as a renegade!" - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -Those were busy days in Paris! So manifold were the intrigues, so -frequent the changes, so rapid the events, of that time, that it would -have required almost more than mortal strength and activity, in those -who played any prominent part amongst the factions of the day, to -accomplish the incessant business of every succeeding hour, had not -that levity, for which the Parisians have been famous in every age of -history, stood them in better stead than philosophy could have done, -and taught them to consider the fierce turmoil of party, the eager -anxiety of intrigue, and even the appalling scenes of strife and -bloodshed in which they lived, rather as playthings and as pageants, -than as fearful realities. - -No sooner had the conference terminated, of which we have given an -outline in the last chapter, than Madame de Montpensier, leaving her -brother of Mayenne to break his somewhat bitter jest upon the leader -of the lansquenets, hurried from the room; but, ere the conversation -which succeeded was over, though it lasted but a very brief space, she -reappeared, covered with what was then called a penitent's cloak, and -holding her mask in her hand, as if prepared to go forth. - -Beckoning Wolfstrom towards her, she spoke with him for a few moments, -in an under tone; and then, concluding with, "Well, be as quick as -possible, and bring me some certain tidings," she again quitted the -apartment, without making Mayenne, who was conversing upon lighter -matters with the Duchess de Guise and the Chevalier d'Aumale, a sharer -in her plans and purposes. - -We shall not follow the progress of her chair through the long, -tortuous, busy streets of Paris; nor record how her attendants cleared -the way through many a crowd, gathered together round the stall of -some great bookseller, or before the stage on which some itinerant -friar, like a mountebank of modern times, sold his treasure of relics, -or chaplets, or authentic pictures of saints and martyrs, or the -still-valued indulgence, which the church of Rome did not fail to -grant to those who had money and folly enough to purchase either the -right of eating flesh, while others were doomed to fish, or the -gratification of any other little carnal inclination, not held amongst -irremissible sins. Suffice it that--amidst stinks, and shouts, and -bawlings, mingled now and then with the "shrill squeaking of the -wry-necked fife," and various savoury odours were wafted from the -kitchens in which cooks, and traiteurs, and aubergistes prepared all -sorts of viands, from the fat quail, and luscious ortolan, to good -stout horse-flesh and delicate cat--the Princess's vehicle bore her -on, till wide at her approach flew open the gates of the Dominican -convent, in the rue St. Jacques, and, entering the first court, the -Duchess set down, under the archway, on the left-hand side. - -After whispering a word to the _frere portier_, the errant daughter of -the noble house of Guise was led through the long and narrow passages -of the building, not to the parlour which usually formed the place of -reception by the priors of the convent, but to a small room, which had -but one door for entrance, and but one narrow window to admit the -needful light. The furniture was as simple as it could be, consisting -of five or six long-backed ebony chairs, a table, a crucifix, a -missal, and a human skull, not, as usual, nicely cleaned and polished, -so as to take away all idea of corruption from the round, smooth, -meaningless ball of shining bone, but rough and foul as it came from -the earth, with the black dirt sticking in the hollows where once had -shone the light of life, and the green mould of the grave spreading -faint and sickly over the fleshless chaps. - -Standing before the table, with his arms crossed upon his breast, and -his dark gleaming eye fixed upon the memento of the tomb, stood a tall -pale man, habited in the black robe of a prior of the order of St. -Dominick, with the white under-garment of the Dominicans still -apparent. He raised his eyes as the Duchess entered, but fixed them -again immediately upon the skull; and, ere he proceeded to notice in -words the approach of his visitant, he muttered what appeared to be a -brief prayer, and bowed towards the cross. - -"Welcome, madam!" he said, at length; "I have been eagerly expecting -you; for it will not be long ere vespers, and we have much to -consider." - -"I have been forced to delay," replied the Duchess, "in order to save -some of our very best schemes from going wrong. But is not Armandi -come? He should have been here an hour ago." - -"He is here, though he has not been here so long," replied the Prior. -"I made them keep him without till you came; for I love not his -neighbourhood." - -"I ought to pray your forgiveness, father, for bringing him here at -all," said the Duchess; "but, in truth--" - -"Make no excuse, lady, make no excuse!" answered the Prior. "We labour -for the holy church--we labour for the faith; and there is no weapon -put within our reach by God, but we have law and licence to use it -against the rank and corrupted enemies of the church militant upon -earth. Did not the blessed St. Dominick himself say, 'Let the sword do -its work, and let the fire do its work, till the threshing-floor of -the house of God be thoroughly purged and purified of the husks and -the chaff which pollute it?' Did not he himself lead the way in the -extirpation of the heretics of old, till the rivers of Languedoc, from -their source even to the ocean, flowed red with the foul blood of the -enemies of the faith? And shall we, his poor followers, halt like -fastidious girls at any means of pursuing the same great object, of -obtaining the same holy end? As I hope to reach the heaven that has -long received our sainted founder, if this Armandi can find means of -accomplishing our mighty purpose, I will embrace him as a brother, and -pronounce with my own lips his absolution from all the many sins of -his life, on account of that worthy act in defence of the Catholic -faith. Shall I call him in?" - -"By all means!" said the Duchess, seating herself near the table: "by -all means! let us hear what he has devised." - -The Prior of the Dominican, or rather, as it was called in Paris, the -Jacobine, convent, proceeded to the door, and made a sign to some one, -who, standing at the end of the long passage, seemed to wait his -commands; and, after a momentary pause, an inferior brother of the -order appeared, introducing the perfumer, habited in the same silks -and velvets wherewith we have seen him clothed when visited by -Beatrice of Ferrara, about an hour before. With a courtly sliding -step, inclined head, and rounded shoulders, Armandi advanced towards -the spot where the Duchess was seated; and, after laying his hand upon -his breast, and bowing low and reverently, drew back a step beside her -chair, as if waiting her commands, with a look of deep humility. The -Prior of the Jacobines seated himself at the same time, and looked -towards the Duchess, as if unwilling himself to begin the conversation -with the worthy coadjutor who had just joined them. Madame de -Montpensier, whose acquaintance with Armandi was of no recent date, -had not the same delicacy on the subject, but at once began, in the -familiar and jocular tone which the light dames of Paris were but too -much accustomed to use, towards the smooth minister of evil that stood -before her: "Well, pink of perfumers," she said, "let us hear what -means your ingenious brain has devised for accomplishing the little -object I mentioned to you some days ago." - -"Beautiful as excellent, and bright as noble!" replied Armandi, in his -sweetest tone; "adorable princess, whose charms the lowest of her -slaves may reverently worship, sorry I am to say, that the enterprise -which you have been graciously pleased to propose to me, I--luckless -I!--am unable to undertake." - -The Duchess heard all his rhodomontade upon her charms--although -the very broadness of Armandi's flattery savoured somewhat of -mockery--with more complaisance than had been evinced towards him by -Beatrice of Ferrara; but the Prior listened with impatience to his -waste of words, and seemed to hear his concluding declaration with -disappointment and indignation. - -"How is this?" cried he, "how is this? Surely thou, unscrupulous in -everything, affectest no vain qualms in regard to the tyrant at St. -Cloud! If thou holdest dear the Catholic faith,"--and the keen eyes of -the Prior fixed searching upon the soft smiling countenance of the -poisoner--"if thou art not infidel, or atheist, or Huguenot, thou wilt -clear away thy many sins, by exercising a trade, hellish in other -circumstances, in the only instance where it is not only justifiable -and praiseworthy, but where, by the great deliverance of the church, -it may merit you hereafter a crown of glory. Or is it, perchance," he -added, "that thou fearest because this tyrant is a king, and the son -of thy former patroness? I tell thee, that were he thine own brother, -as a good Catholic, thou shouldest not hesitate." - -Armandi listened to the vehement declamation of the monk with his -usual composed air, and half subdued smile, and at the end replied, -with every apparent reverence--"No, holy Father Bourgoin; you mistake -entirely your humble and devoted servant. I am not so presumptuous as -to think, that what such a holy man as you tells me to do can be -against either right or religion; and, besides, I would humbly beseech -you to give me absolution for anything I might do at your command; so -that, being a sincere and devoted Catholic, my conscience would be -quite at ease." There was the slightest possible curl on Armandi's lip -as he spoke, which in the eyes of the Dominican looked not unlike a -sneer; but his manner, as well as his words, was in every other point -respectful, and he went on in the same tone:--"Neither is it, reverend -father, that the royal object of the ministry which you wish me to -practise, has had more than one crown put upon his head, which makes -me halt; for I never yet could discover that the holy oil with which -he is anointed has the least resemblance to that elixir of life which -forbids the approach of death; or that in the golden circlet with -which his brows are bound lies any antidote for certain drugs that I -possess. Nor am I moved by considering that his most Christian Majesty -is the son of my dear and lamented mistress; for, taking into account -the troublous world in which we live, and the many difficulties, -dangers, and disasters which surround Henry at this moment, truly it -would be no uncharitable act to give him a safe and easy passport to -another world." - -"Then why, why," demanded the Duchess, "why do you hesitate to do so?" - -"Sweet lady! it is because I cannot," answered Armandi: "the King's -precautions put all my arts at fault. Not a dish is set upon his -table, but a portion of it is tasted two hours before; his gloves -themselves are made within the circle of the court; his own apothecary -prepares the perfumes for his toilet; and the cosmetic mask Which he -wears in bed, to keep his countenance from the chill night air, is -manufactured by his own royal hands." - -Madame de Montpensier and the Prior looked at each other with somewhat -sullen and disappointed looks; and Armandi added, "Unless you can get -me admitted to his household, I fear my skill can be of no avail." - -"We have no such interest with the effeminate tyrant," replied Madame -de Montpensier, "and so this scheme is hopeless," she added. "But I -fear me, Armandi, that, from some love to this tyrant, or to his -minions, your will is less disposed to find the means than the means -difficult to be found." - -"No, as I live, beautiful princess!" answered the poisoner, with more -eagerness than he often displayed. "No, as I live! I had once a -daughter, lady, as beautiful as you are; and it was her father's pride -that she should be wise and chaste: when one mid-day, in the open -streets of Paris, my child was met by the base minion, Saint Maigrin, -hot with pride, and vice, and wine. He treated her as if she had been -an idle courtesan; and how far he would have carried his brutality, -none but the dead can tell, had not a gentleman, whose name I know -not, rescued her from his hands: although so hurt and terrified, that, -ere long, she died. I called loudly for justice, lady--I called with -the voice of a father and a man; but I was heard by this Henry, who -has never been a father, and is but half a man. He mocked me openly: -but the house of Guise, in revenging their own wrongs, revenged mine; -and you may judge whether I would not willingly aid you to remove from -the earth one who has cumbered it too long." - -"Then you absolutely cannot do it?" demanded the priest. - -"I cannot," answered Armandi; "but, if I may say so, reverend father, -I think you can." - -"Ay, and how so?" asked the Prior, eagerly: "if it rests with me, it -is done; for, so help me Heaven! if this right hand could plant a -dagger in his heart, I would not pause between the conception and the -act: no, not the twinkling of an eye!--no, not the breathing of a -prayer! so sure am I that, by so doing, I should better serve the -Catholic faith, than had I the eloquence of St. Paul to preach it to -the world. How can I do it?" - -"Very simply, I think," replied the poisoner. "I have often remarked, -standing by the gate of your convent, or kneeling at the shrines at -Notre Dame, a dull, heavy-looking man, pale in the face, strong in the -body, and having but little meaning in his eye, except that when -before some relic, or the image of some favourite saint, a wild and -uncertain fire is seen to beam up but for a moment, and go out again -as soon. He seems about twenty years of age; and I met him now just -going forth as I came hither." - -"Oh, yes! I know him well," replied the Prior: "you mean poor Brother -Clement; a simple, dull, enthusiastic youth, whose strong animal -passions now, most happily for himself, all centre in devotion." - -A dark and bitter smile curled the lips of René Armandi as he listened -to the Prior's account of the person on whom he himself had fixed as a -fit instrument for the foul and bloody schemes that were agitated so -tranquilly in their strange conclave. "Yes," he said; "yes, stupid he -is; wild, visionary, and enthusiastic, he seems to be; and the same -animal passions, which once plunged him in brutal lusts and foul -debauchery, may now act as a stimulus to drive home the dagger in the -cause of the Catholic faith!" - -The gleaming eyes of the Prior fixed sternly upon the countenance of -the poisoner while he spoke; and it seemed that no very Christian -feelings were excited in the bosom of the monk by the bitter and -sneering tone which the Italian employed. The suggestion, however, -which his words had implied, rather than expressed, instantly caught -his attention, and diverted his mind towards more important matter. -"Ha!" he exclaimed; "ha! think you he could be prevailed upon?" - -"I have often remarked, reverend father," replied Armandi, who had -caught the transitory look of wrath as it had passed over the monk's -countenance, and who, being but little disposed to make an enemy of -one both powerful and unscrupulous, now spoke in a milder and more -deferential tone--"I have often remarked, reverend father, that there -are men in whose souls the animal part seems to be so much stronger -than the intellectual, that mere appetite drives them on to coarse -extremes in everything, however opposite and apparently incompatible. -Thus, do we not see," he asked, lowering his tone, as if he suspected -that the case he was about to put might be that of his auditor; "do we -not see that men, who, in their youth, have given themselves up -somewhat too freely to gallantry, and to those fair sins which the -church condemns in vain, in after-years wear the bare stones with -their bended knees, and tire all the saints in the calendar with -penitence and prayer?" - -"Thou speakest profanely," said the Prior: "is it not natural and just -that men, who have great sins to atone for, should do the deeper -penance when their conscience is awakened to repentance? But what if -it were even as thou wouldst sneeringly imply? How does this affect -our Brother Clement?" - -"If I reason wrongly," replied Armandi, "my reasoning affects him not; -but if my view is right, it matters much. I doubt, good father, that -it is always true repentance which brings the libertine to the altar. -My conviction is, that it is but one appetite gone, and another risen -up in its place; and amongst such men, had I some good and reasonable -cause,--some powerful motive to stir them up to action,--it is amongst -such men, I say, that I should seek for one to undertake fearlessly, -and execute resolutely, such a deed as that which has been proposed to -me: and let me say too," he continued, a natural tendency to sneer at -his companions getting the better of the moderation he had assumed; -"and let me say, too, that I would seek for one whose reasoning -powers, in the nice balance of the brain, would kick the beam when the -opposite scale were loaded with animal passion and vagrant -imagination. Do you understand me?" - -The Prior made no reply; but, starting up from his seat, walked up and -down the room with his hands clasped, his head bent, and his lips -muttering. In the meanwhile, Madame de Montpensier beckoned Armandi -towards her, and held with him a brief conversation in an under tone. -His communication with her, however, seemed to be much more free and -unrestrained than it had been with the monk; for jest and laughter -appeared to take the place of shrewd and somewhat bitter discussion; -and, though looks of intelligence and significant gestures made up -fully one half of what passed, the lady and the poisoner seemed to -understand each other perfectly. Their conversation ended by Madame de -Montpensier exclaiming aloud, "Oh, never fear, never fear! To attain -that object I will act the angel myself, and go any lengths in that -capacity." - -"Reverend father," continued the Princess, "this scheme is a hopeful -one, easily executed, and involving no great risk." - -The Prior paused, and turned to listen to the Duchess, who knew much -better how to treat him than Armandi. "What is the scheme, lady?" he -demanded: "as yet I have heard of none, except vague hints regarding a -brother of the order, mingled with sneers at religion and religious -men, which, in better days, would have had their reward." - -"No, no, good father," replied the Duchess; "poor Armandi means no -evil. Answer me one or two questions: think you not that Henry,--the -excommunicated tyrant, the sacrilegious murderer of one of the -prelates of the holy church, the friend of heretics, who is at this -moment doing all that he can to spread heresy and destroy the Catholic -faith in France;--think you not that he is without the pale of law, -and that any means are justifiable to stop him in his damnable course, -and save the holy church and the Catholic population in this country?" - -"Not only do I think so," replied the Prior, vehemently, "but I think -that he who does stop him in his course will gain a crown of glory, -and would obtain, should death befall him in the act, the still more -glorious crown of martyrdom." - -"That is enough, that is enough!" replied the Duchess; "I will explain -to you the whole scheme when we are alone. You, Armandi, go and -prepare everything that you spoke of,--the rose-coloured fire, and the -dress, and the wings, and come to me to-night, that we may arrange all -the rest." - -With profound and repeated bows, the perfumer was in the act of taking -his departure from the apartment where this iniquitous conference had -taken place, when three soft taps on the door arrested his progress, -and the next moment the same monk who had ushered him thither on the -arrival of the Duchess, announced that a noble gentleman without -craved to speak with Madame de Montpensier, according to her own -appointment. - -"Give him admittance, father! give him admittance!" cried the -Princess; "it is our faithful friend Wolfstrom, who brings me news of -other feats accomplished in the same good cause that occupies us -here." - -The order for his admission was immediately given by the Prior; and as -Armandi passed out, the leader of the lansquenets entered, exchanging -glances of recognition with the poisoner, the circle of whose -acquaintances had extended itself, by one means or another, to almost -every one possessing any degree of rank, wealth, or influence in -Paris. - -"Well, lady!" said the soldier of fortune, after a formal bow to the -Prior, "the stag is safely housed, and we wait but your commands to -follow up the sport." - -"But have you learned any particulars of his mind and character?" -demanded the Duchess, eagerly; "have you discovered which way we best -may lead or drive him to the point? Remember, our time is but short, -and much remains to be done in those brief three days." - -"Good faith! there seems but little to be learned, lady," replied the -soldier. "As I promised, I took care that he should have companionship -with none but those who would take up every light word, to let us see -into the dark nooks of his heart, and report all truly that they -learned; but, by the Lord! it seems that there are no dark nooks to be -found out! All is open and clear--he seems simple as the day, -religious in the true Catholic faith, sir Prior, bold and calm, but -having little to take hold of, if it be not his devotion." - -"Of whom speak you?" demanded the Prior, while Madame de Montpensier -fixed her fine dark eyes thoughtfully on the ground; "is it of the -young St. Real, of whom our noble lady here spoke some days since?" - -Albert of Wolfstrom nodded; and the Prior also fell into a fit of -meditation, seeming to revolve, like the Duchess, the means of dealing -with one of those characters, whose right simplicity of nature renders -them much more difficult to manage than even the wily, the worldly, -and the shrewd. - -"We must think of this matter, Sir Albert," said the priest, "we must -think of this matter. Is he in safety at your house, do you think?" - -"Why, by my honour, that is doubtful," answered the German. "My -lansquenets have active duty to perform; people are coming in -and out at all hours; and I never know when his Highness the -lieutenant-general himself may not make his appearance there." - -"That will never do!" said the Duchess; "that will never do--we must -send him to the Bastile. Mayenne will never venture there; for he -knows very well that within those walls he would meet many a sight -which his fine notions of honour and justice would compel him to -inquire into, to the mortification of his policy, and the destruction -of his prospects. We must have him to the Bastille." - -"Your pardon there, madame," said the soldier, somewhat uncourteously; -"my prisoner goes not to the Bastille, wherever he goes! That foul -burgher demagogue Bussy le Clerc shall hold at his good pleasure no -prisoner of mine." - -Madame de Montpensier's dark eye flashed, and her cheek reddened as -she listened to the bold tone of the mercenary leader; but all the -tangled and complicated political intrigues in which his services were -necessary, and perhaps some more private considerations also, rendered -her unwilling to break with one whose faith and integrity were -somewhat more than doubtful. She smothered her anger, therefore, and, -after a few moments' thought, replied, "I have it, I have it! He shall -be brought here. You say, Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, that, -notwithstanding the intimacy of his father with the Huguenots, he -seems to hold fast by the Catholic faith. You, reverend father, shall -try your oratory upon him; and, if possible, we must make him benefit -by all that we do to lead on Brother Clement to the point we desire. -You object not to this plan; do you, Sir Albert?" - -"It is more hopeful than the Bastile," replied the soldier; "and I -will bring him here with all my heart: but yet," he continued, with a -doubtful shake of the head: "but yet--though I cannot tell why--but -yet I have some fears that you will not find this young roebuck so -easy to manage as you imagine. There is something about him, I don't -know what, that makes me doubt the result." - -"Oh! but we have means that you know not of," replied the Duchess, -"which, if he be in faith and truth a son of the holy church, must -bring him over to the Union for her defence." - -"Well, well, I will bring him here," said the mercenary leader; "and -you, fair lady and reverend father, must do the rest." - -"Away, then, quick! and you will find me here at your return," replied -the Duchess; "but take care that you meet not with Mayenne by the way, -for he will set him free to a certainty; and then all that we have -done will only tend to drive him over to the other party, instead of -gaining a powerful adherent for the League." - -"No fear, no fear!" replied Wolfstrom. "The distance is but a hundred -yards; and I will post scouts at the end of the street before we set -out." So saying, the leader of the lansquenets took his departure, -leaving Madame de Montpensier with the Prior of the Jacobine convent, -with whom an eager and interesting conversation instantly took place, -the consequences of which we may have to detail hereafter. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -We must now turn once more to the young Marquis of St. Real; and, -although the events which had befallen him since the death of his -father may have been gathered by the reader from what has passed in -the chapters immediately preceding, it may not be unnecessary to -recapitulate here, as briefly as possible, the occurrences which had -placed him a prisoner in the midst of Paris. - -According to the promise which Henry of Navarre had obtained from the -old Marquis of St. Real on his death-bed, that nobleman's son, as soon -as possible after the last rites had been paid to his father's memory, -had prepared to take the field in behalf of one of the great -contending parties which then struggled for mastery in France. He had -applied for and obtained, both from King Henry III. on the one part, -and from the Duke of Mayenne on behalf of the League, a safe-conduct -to visit the camp and the capital, accompanied by twenty retainers. -The rest of his forces, it was expressly stipulated, were to remain at -the distance of fifteen leagues from the royalist army; and the -position of the two kings, as they advanced to lay siege to Paris, had -compelled him, in compliance with this stipulation, to deviate from -his direct road to Paris, and accompany, for a short way, his cousin, -who was advancing to reinforce the troops of Longueville and La Noue. -Although strongly pressed by messengers from those two generals to -decide at once in favour of the royal cause, and join the partisan -force which they commanded, St. Real steadily refused to do so, till, -according to the determination he had expressed, and in consideration -of which he had obtained a safe-conduct from Mayenne, he should have -visited the head-quarters of the king and of the League. - -As soon as he had obtained such a position for his forces as enabled -him to leave them in perfect security, he set out with his small -train, purposing to proceed first to the camp of the two Henrys, as -the nearest at the moment, and then to visit Paris. He had scarcely -advanced, however, half a day's march on his way, when he was suddenly -surrounded by an immensely superior body of reitters and lansquenets, -who had been sent forth from Paris for the express purpose of -obtaining possession of his person. How Madame do Montpensier had -gained such accurate intelligence of all his movements, was a matter -of surprise even to her own immediate confidants; but it was very well -understood that the orders, in consequence of which this bold stroke -was executed, emanated from her; and the leaders of the mercenaries, -who captured St. Real, were not only furnished with the exact details -of his line of march, but also with a ready answer to the indignant -appeal which he instantly made, on his arrest, to the safe-conduct he -possessed under the Duke of Mayenne's own hand. That safe-conduct, -they replied, had been given him in order to facilitate a peaceful -visit to Paris; while he, on the contrary, had not only led his troops -into such a position as to enable him to give strong support to the -Duke of Longueville, but had even detached a body to aid that nobleman -in the battle of Senlis. - -It was in vain St. Real explained to his captors, that the troops -which had left him were the immediate retainers of his cousin, the -Count d'Aubin, over whom he had no authority, and that he himself had -positively refused to take part with the Duke of Longueville. His -remonstrance was without effect; and, although he well knew his own -innocence, he could not but admit that the reasoning against him was -specious. In reply to all his explanations, the captain of the -lansquenets simply urged that he had no power to release him, and that -his justification must be made to the Duke of Mayenne himself. To -submit, therefore, was a matter of necessity; and, as he was in every -respect well treated, the young Marquis did submit without any very -angry feelings, concluding that he might as well reverse the order of -his proceedings, and first visit Paris instead of the royal camp. - -On his arrival in the capital, he demanded to be carried instantly to -the presence of the Duke of Mayenne; but this application was evaded, -it being boldly asserted by those who held him in their hands that the -Duke was absent from the city. Hitherto his attendants had been -permitted to bear him company; and as he had ridden through the -crowded streets of the city, he had felt less as a prisoner than as a -voluntary visiter of the great metropolis; but when, after having been -detained for some time at the house of Albert of Wolfstrom, he was -told that he must accompany his captor to the convent of the -Dominicans, whither only one servant could be permitted to attend him, -he began to suspect that the bonds of his imprisonment were being -straitened; and he remonstrated with calm but firm language, -reiterating his demand to be brought before the Duke of Mayenne, and -expressing his determination to hold the name of that nobleman up to -the reprobation of all honourable men, if he suffered any of his -adherents to violate the safe-conduct from his hand with impunity. - -Wolfstrom, however, who on more than one occasion had shown himself -but little tender of his own fair fame, could not be expected to feel -much solicitude for that of another; and, although he held the potent -Duke in some degree of awe, he had become hardened by the impunity -which every sort of falsehood enjoyed in the good easy times of civil -war, and doubted not that, in the end, he should find means of -extricating himself from the consequences of the present intrigue, as -he had done in regard to many which had preceded, namely, by the -unlimited command of impudence, shrewdness, and three thousand -mercenaries. - -He turned a deaf ear, therefore, to the complaints of St Real; and the -young Marquis was conducted to the convent of the Jacobins, in the -midst of precautions which he did not fail to mark, and from which he -augured little good in regard to the intentions of his gaolers. - -The distance from the dwelling of the mercenary leader to the convent -was but short; and the people of Paris were well accustomed to see -parties of soldiers pass through their streets: but the indescribable -pleasure of staring, in this instance, as in all others, collected a -little crowd round the centre of bustle; and the gates of the -Jacobins, as they opened to receive St. Real, were surrounded by -between twenty and thirty persons of different conditions. To those -who have eaten sufficiently of the tree of good and evil in a great -capital to know _that they are naked_, the presence of a gaping mob to -witness the fact of their being dragged along like culprits by a party -of rude soldiers, would be a subject of annoyance. St. Real felt -injured, but not ashamed or afraid; and fixing his eye upon the most -respectable personage of the crowd, he suddenly stopped where he -stood, and, ere any one could prevent him, exclaimed, in a loud and -distinct voice, "My friend, if the Duke of Mayenne be in Paris, you -will serve both him and me by telling him that the Marquis of St. Real -is here detained, contrary to the Duke's safe-conduct and his honour." - -"You will tell him no such thing, as you value your ears!" shouted -Albert of Wolfstrom, fixing his eyes upon the Parisian with a marking -glance, which seemed to intimate that he would not be easily forgotten -by the wrath of the German leader in case of disobedience. The -Parisian drew back, determined from the very first to practise that -sort of wisdom which those long resident in great cities, and much -habituated to scenes of contention and intrigue, do not fail to -acquire; namely, to meddle with nothing that does not personally -concern them. There was another person present, however, whose -diminutive stature, and the simplicity of garb which he had assumed, -combined to conceal him from the notice of either St. Real or the -mercenary leader; no other, indeed, than the young Marquis's dwarf -page, Bartholo; who, peeping through the open spaces between the other -personages that formed the little crowd, saw and heard all that passed -without attracting notice himself. Slipping out at once from amongst -the rest, he made his way down the street, holding one of his usual -muttered consultations with himself. - -"Now, shall I tell Mayenne," he said, "that the great baby is caught, -and shut up here in the Jacobins, like a young imprudent rat, in a -politic rat-trap; or shall I let him lie there for his pains, till -that spoilt boy, D'Aubin, has married the other fair-haired baby, and -that matter is irrevocable?" - -He paused for a moment at the end of the street, revolving the -question he had put to himself in silence. "No, no," he added, at -length; "no, no, there I might outwit myself; these Leaguers are too -cunning for that. If they can't get St. Real on any other terms, they -may marry him to this Eugenie de Menancourt, and spoil all my schemes -at once. If Mayenne hears publicly where he is, he must set him free, -for his honour's sake. Then will he go off, in the heat of his anger, -to the people at St. Cloud; D'Aubin will come over to the League, -marry the girl, and all will be safe. Yes, yes, to Mayenne! I will to -Mayenne!" - -In consequence of this determination, he proceeded as quickly, but as -quietly as possible, to the Hotel de Guise, and demanded to speak with -the Duke of Mayenne,--a privilege which every one in Paris claimed in -regard to that leader, whose power was principally based upon his -popularity. The Duke, however, had by this time set out to watch the -progress of the skirmishes which were taking place almost hourly in -the Pré aux Clercs, and the dwarf, not choosing that the tidings he -had to communicate should be given in any other than a public manner, -refused to intrust them to Mayenne's retainers, and retired, resolving -to repeat his visit early the next morning. - -In the mean time St. Real was hurried into the convent, the gates were -shut, and, preceded by two or three of the Dominicans, he was led -along the dark and gloomy passages of the building, towards the -apartment in which the Prior and Madame de Montpensier were still in -conference. Here, however, he was stopped at the door; and Albert of -Wolfstrom, entering alone, held a brief but rapid conversation with -the Prior. It ended in St. Real being led back again across the great -court to a distant part of the monastery, where, after climbing two -flights of steps, he was ushered into a corridor extremely narrow, but -of considerable length. In the whole extent of wall, however, which -this corridor presented, there only appeared three doors, besides the -low arch by which he entered. Two of these opened on the left, and -were close together; the other was at the further end of the passage. - -Albert of Wolfstrom and his soldiers paused at the entrance; but the -monks led St. Real on, and, in a moment after, the Prior himself -followed. He seemed to regard the young stranger with some degree of -interest, and addressed him with mildness and urbanity. "I am told, my -son," he said, "that it is necessary, for reasons into which I have no -authority to inquire, to hold you as a prisoner till the decision of -the lieutenant-general of the kingdom is known in regard to your -destination; but at the same time the members of the holy Catholic -Union, whose object is solely to maintain the faith and liberties of -the people, and to oppose the progress of tyranny and heresy, desire -that you should not be treated as a common prisoner of war, but rather -should have every comfort and convenience till your fate is otherwise -decided. For this purpose, they have consigned you to our care rather -than to the rude durance of the Bastille; and, instead of assigning -you one of the common cells of the brotherhood, I have directed that -you should be placed here, where you can have more space and -convenience. Yonder door, at the farther end of the corridor, belongs -to a cell fitted for your attendant; this first door on the left leads -to an apartment which we shall assign to one of our brethren of St. -Dominick, through whom you can communicate with the convent and the -world without. This is your own apartment--" - -As he spoke, he opened the second of the two doors, which stood -close together on the left, and led St. Real into a spacious and -well-furnished chamber. It was airy, but somewhat dim, as it derived -its only light from a window, which appeared, by its great height and -Gothic shape, to have once formed part of some church or chapel. At -the present moment, such arrangements had been made--amongst the -various alterations which the old building must have undergone--that -this single window, which reached from the ceiling to the floor, -served to give light both to the room in which St. Real stood, and to -the other immediately by its side, which together must have once -formed but one large chamber. The thin partition of woodwork which -separated the one room from the other, was supported, from the floor -to the roof, by the strong stone pillar that divided the Gothic window -into two parts; and thus, though the two chambers were completely -distinct, they both had an equal share of light. - -"This chamber is somewhat obscure," continued the Prior; "but in the -alterations which were made in this building, some twenty years ago, -we could not arrange things better. What are now sleeping rooms were -then part of the old chapel, and this high window looked out to the -Prior's dwelling." So saying, he advanced and opened the casement, a -great part of which, swinging back on its creaking and clattering -hinges, gave admittance to the free air of summer from without, and -showed to St. Real the heavy walls of another body of the building -rising up before the window, at the distance of scarcely five feet. -Running along upon the same level as the chamber in which he stood, -might be seen one of those Gothic passages of fretted stone-work, -which, in churches, are called monks' galleries; while, at the -distance of about twenty feet below, appeared between the two -buildings the narrow paved alley which united the inner to the outer -court of the Dominican convent. - -The Prior proceeded with some more excuses for the dimness of the -chamber; but as soon as he had concluded, St. Real, who had listened -calmly, replied, "I complain not of the apartment, father, I have -slept in worse; but I complain of imprisonment, when my safety and -freedom were guaranteed to me by the Duke of Mayenne himself. However, -let me warn you, that I am aware, from some circumstances which -occurred at the gate of the convent, that his Highness of Mayenne is -purposely held in ignorance of my imprisonment. I acquit him therefore -of all dishonourable conduct: but how you, and others, will answer to -him for bringing his honour and good faith in question, you must -yourself consider." - -"For my actions," replied the Prior, somewhat sternly, "I am prepared, -my son, not only to answer to him, but to God. Those of others I have -nought to do with. It suffices for me, that I have authority from -those who have a right to give it, to detain you here till I am -assured that the lieutenant-general thinks it fit that you should be -set at liberty. You are ungrateful, my son, for kindness felt and -shown: you might have undergone harsher treatment, had you been -consigned to the Bastille." - -"Father, I am not ungrateful," replied St. Real, whose simple good -sense was no unequal match for even monkish shrewdness; "but when an -act of injustice is committed, it is somewhat hard to require that the -sufferer should be well pleased that that act of injustice is not -greater than it is. To confine me here is wrong--to confine me in the -Bastille were worse; but, surely, I cannot be expected to feel -grateful to the thief who cuts my purse, simply because he does not -cut my throat also!" - -"Your language is hard," replied the Prior, "and your similes are -indecent towards a minister of the religion you profess to hold; I -shall, therefore, waste no more words upon you, young sir. Your -conduct, however, makes no change in my purposes. The treatment you -receive shall be as gentle and as good as if you were grateful for -kindness, and courteous towards those whom you should respect. You -will one time know me better; and you may be sure, even now, that I -have no purposes to serve by your detention; as you will find by our -intercourse, be it long, be it short, that I shall strive for nothing -but, if possible, to lead you in that course in which your honour, -your happiness, and your best interests, here and hereafter, are alone -to be found." - -St. Real made no reply; and the Dominican, bowing his head with an air -of conscious dignity, withdrew from the apartment, and, proceeding -through the doorway by which he had entered, left the young Marquis -and his attendant alone. The sound of turning keys and drawing bolts -succeeded, and St. Real for the first time found himself a prisoner -indeed. Now "The soul, secure in its existence, may smile at the drawn -dagger, and defy its point;" yet there are many things which may -happen to the body, that defy the soul to preserve her equanimity, -although they be much less evils, in comparison, than that -irretrievable separation of matter and spirit, which we are accustomed -to look upon with more indifference. For a moment or two, St. Real -lost his calmness, and, striding up and down the room with his arms -folded on his breast, gave way to that bitterness of spirit, which -every noble heart must feel on the loss of the great, the -incomparable, the inestimable blessing of liberty. His more -philosophical attendant, who had been selected in haste from among the -rest of his followers, without any great attention to his mental -qualities, consoled himself, under the privation which so painfully -affected his master, by examining every hole and corner in the -apartments to which they were consigned; and comforted himself not a -little, under all their woes and disasters, by the sight of soft and -downy beds, rich arras, and velvet hangings. Before his perquisitions -were well complete, however, and just as his master was reasoning -himself into calmer endurance of an event he could not avoid, the door -once more opened, and admitted a brother of the order, on whose -appearance and demeanour we must pause for a moment. - -He was younger than any of the friars that St. Real had yet -seen,--pale in countenance, heavy in expression, with a certain degree -of sadness, if not wildness, in his eye, and that close shutting of -the teeth and compression of the lips, which, in general, argues a -determined disposition. A little above the middle height, he was -powerful in limb and muscle; but the appearance of strength and -activity, which his form would otherwise have displayed, was -contradicted by a certain slouching stoop, which deprived his -demeanour of all grace; while the habit of gazing, as it were, -furtively from under the bent brows which almost concealed his eyes, -gave his dull countenance a sinister expression, not at all -prepossessing. - -"Benedicite!" said the friar, as he advanced towards St. Real; -"benedicite!" - -St. Real made some ordinary answer in Latin; but the dull unreplying -countenance of the monk showed that his stock of Latinity did not -extend even to the common phrases in use amongst persons of his -profession; and the young Marquis proceeded in French: "You are, I -presume, the brother appointed to keep watch over us in our -confinement?" - -"The Prior has given me, for a penance," replied the monk, "the task -of lying in a down bed, and waiting your will in communicating with -the parlour and the refectory, till to-morrow morning. I am commanded -to ask you if you will have supper: it grows late." - -"I am here, father," replied St. Real, with a smile, "as a bird in a -cage, and you must feed me at what hours you please: it matters but -little to me." - -The monk gazed on him, for a moment, in sullen silence, as if he -hardly attended to his reply, or hardly understood its meaning; and -then, as his slow comprehension did its work, he turned away with a -few muttered, half-intelligible words, and left the apartment, going -apparently to command the meal of which he had spoken. It was soon -after brought in; and, during its course, the Dominican sat by, -turning over the leaves of his breviary in silence, from time to time -reading a few sentences, and filling up the intervals in gazing -vacantly upon the pages, seemingly occupied in dull and gloomy dreams. - -The meal did not occupy much time; and after it was concluded, St. -Real, anxious to hear something more precise concerning the state of -the capital, and to obtain some information in regard to his own -situation, endeavoured to enter into conversation with the monk; but -the course of all their thoughts lay in such different lines, that he -soon perceived the attempt would be in vain. The Dominican sat and -listened, and replied either by monosyllables, or by long fanatical -tirades, in general totally irrelevant to the topic which called them -forth; and, as twilight began to grow upon the world, the young -Marquis abandoned the endeavour, and intimated, by his silence, a -desire to be left alone. It was long before the other gratified his -inclination in this respect, however, but sat mute and absent, still -turning over the leaves of his breviary, and gazing, from time to -time, upon the face of his companion. Nor was it till St. Real -expressed his desire to have a lamp, and to be left to his own -thoughts, that the monk deemed it advisable to retire. - -Fatigued in body and mind by the events of the day, St. Real soon cast -himself down to rest; and sleep was not long in visiting his eyelids. -His slumber was profound also; and he awoke not till various sounds in -the immediate vicinity of his chamber disturbed his repose somewhat -rudely. - -The nature of the first noises that roused him he could not very well -distinguish, for slumber, though in flight, still held, in some -degree, possession of his senses. They seemed, however, as far as he -could remember afterwards, to have proceeded from some smart blows of -a hammer upon a wooden scaffolding; but, before he was well awake, -those sounds had ceased, and a buzzing hum, like that of a turner's -wheel, or a quickly moved saw, had succeeded. St. Real listened -attentively; and, having convinced himself that the noises, by -whatever they were occasioned, were not produced by anything in his -own chamber, but rather seemed to proceed from some part of the -building opposite his window, he addressed himself to sleep again, and -not without success. - -But his repose was not so full and tranquil as before. His former -slumbers had been profound, forming one of those dreamless, -feelingless, lapses of existence, which seem given us to show how the -soul, even while dwelling in the body, can pause with all her powers -suspended, unconscious of her own being, till called again into -activity by some extraneous cause. The sleep which succeeded, however, -was very different: dreams came thick and fast; some of them were -confused and wild, and indistinct, but some were of that class of -visions in which all the objects are as clear and definite as during -our waking moments,--in which our thoughts are as active, our mind is -as much at work, our passions are as vehemently excited, as in the -strife and turmoil of living aspiration and endeavour--dreams which -seem given to show us how intensely the soul can act, and feel, and -live, while the corporeal faculties, which are her earthly servants, -are as dead and useless as if the grave's corruption had resolved them -into nothing. - -At one moment it seemed that he was in the battle-field, amidst the -shout and the cry, and the clang of arms, and the rush of charging -squadrons; and then he was in the flight of the defeated army, and he -knew all the bitter indignation of reverse, and all the burning thirst -to retrieve the day, and he felt all the vain effort to rally the -flying, and the hopeless and daring effort to repel the victor; and -then again, when all was lost, and not the faint shadow of a -despairing hope remained, he was hurrying his rapid course across some -dark and midnight moor; and, while he spurred on his own weary horse, -he held in his hand the bridle rein of another, who bore one for whom -he felt a thousand fears which he knew not for himself; and ever and -anon, as he turned to look, the soft sweet eyes of Eugenie de -Menancourt would gaze upon him with imploring earnestness. Then, -suddenly, the figure changed, the rein dropped from his hand, and, -armed all in steel, with lance couched and visor up, as if galloping -to attack him, appeared his cousin, Philip d'Aubin; and, with a -feeling of horror and a sudden start, St. Real woke. - -The sounds that he now heard--for as yet the night had by no means -assumed her attribute of quietness--were certainly not calculated to -produce the painful sensations that he had just undergone. There was -music on the air--soft and delicate music,--not gay, and yet not sad, -but with a certain wild solemnity of tone, that well accorded with the -hour, and seemed calculated to raise the thoughts to high and -unearthly aspirations. At first, the music was solely instrumental; -but, in a moment or two afterwards, two sweet voices were heard, -singing, with a peculiarly thrilling softness of tone, that seemed to -have something supernatural in its clear melody. St. Real listened; -and, though the sounds must have proceeded from some distance, yet the -words were pronounced so distinctly, that he lost not a syllable of -the song they poured upon the night. - - SONG. - - _First Voice_. Blessed! blessed! art thou, - Amongst the sons of men! - For angels are wreathing for thy brow - Flowers that fade not again! - - _Second Voice_. A crown, a crown of glory for the brave! - - _First Voice_. Blessed! blessed! are those - That sleep the sleep of the good! - Blessed is he whose bosom glows - To shed the tyrant's blood! - - _Second Voice_. Glory to him whom the Church shall save! - - _First Voice_. Amongst the saints in Paradise, - In glory he shall dwell! - And angels shall greet him to the skies, - When to earth he bids farewell! - - _Second Voice_. Joy, joy, joy to the champion of the Lord! - - _First Voice_. His arm is now endued with might, - The foes of the Faith to destroy! - To sweep the tyrant from God's sight, - To crush the worm in his joy! - - _Second Voice_. Death, death, death to the tyrant abhorred! - - _Both Voices_. Blessed! blessed! blessed art thou - Amongst the sons of men! - For angels are wreathing for thy brow - Flowers that fade not again! - - -It was no longer doubtful whence these sounds proceeded; for, in -consequence of the closeness of a hot August night, St. Real had left -his window open; and he now distinctly perceived that the music issued -from a spot in the monks' gallery, very nearly opposite. Springing out -of bed as soon as the sounds had ceased, he advanced to the window, -and looked out; but he could perceive nothing. The night was somewhat -obscure, the moon by this time was down, and it was with difficulty -that he distinguished the fretted stonework of the gallery from the -rest of the dark mass that rose before him. He paused for a moment, to -consider what all this could mean. Though a sincere Catholic, and -habituated to make a marked distinction between the doctrines of the -religion he professed and the absurdities, superstitions, and -corruptions with which knaves and fools had endeavoured to disguise -it, still the Reformation had disclosed too much, and the young noble -was of too inquiring a disposition for him to be unaware of the -multitude of tricks, intrigues, and deceptions, which some of the more -bigoted members of the Roman church thought themselves justified in -practising for the attainment of an end desired. The sounds he had -just heard, therefore, he attributed at once to their right cause, -looking upon them as part of some piece of monkish jugglery. Almost as -rapidly joining this conclusion in his mind to his own arrest without -the knowledge of Mayenne, to his detention in the Dominican convent, -to his separation from the rest of the community, and to the peculiar -position of the apartments assigned to him, he was led to -believe--though wrongly--that he himself was the object of the -somewhat absurd stratagem which he had just witnessed. - -"These monks must surely deem me a very great fool indeed!" he -thought, as he stood and gazed out upon the building opposite, longing -to give the persons who had been singing an intimation of his -consciousness of their arts, and of the contempt in which he held -them. But, while considering whether it would not be more dignified to -let the matter pass over in silence, a new trick was played off. A -sudden light burst through the apertures of the stone-work, and was -poured, as it were, in a full stream upon the window at which he -stood, but not on the part contained in his own chamber, being -directed entirely upon that portion of the casement which was -beyond the partition, and which gave light to the chamber assigned -to the young monk who had been given him as an attendant. The first -ray of light that St. Real perceived was of the ordinary hue, though -of a dazzling brightness; but the next moment it assumed a bright -rose-colour, and proceeded to pour on, changing to a thousand varied -and beautiful tints, which the young noble thought certainly very -admirable, but not at all supernatural. The next moment, however, he -heard through the partition the murmuring of voices in the -neighbouring chamber; and, thinking that the jugglery had been carried -quite far enough, he determined, if possible, to put an end to it. -Throwing his cloak round him, therefore, he approached the door, -intending to enter the chamber of the young Dominican, and tell him in -plain language, that he was not to be deceived; but, when he attempted -to draw the lock, he found that the key had been turned upon him from -without; and, with a curling lip, he cast himself again upon his bed, -and soon forgot, in tranquil slumber, events which had excited in his -mind no other feeling than contempt. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -It was late in the morning when St. Real awoke; and so profound had -been his slumbers during the latter hours of their course, that the -door of his chamber had been opened without his knowing it; and, on -looking round, he found the young Dominican sitting at the farther end -of the room, employed, as usual, in turning over busily the leaves of -his breviary. In his eye there was more wild and gloomy fire than St. -Real had remarked on the preceding evening; and the young noble, who -could not help connecting the monk with the trick that had been played -off upon him during the night, resolved to speak upon the subject at -once, in the hope of discovering what was the real object of the -friars. - -"Good morrow, father!" he said, as their eyes first met; "I trust you -have slept more soundly than I have." - -"Why should _you_ sleep unsoundly?" demanded the Dominican in return. -"You have no mighty thoughts! you have no heavenly calling! you have -no glorious revelations to keep you waking! Why should you sleep -unsoundly?" - -"Simply, because foolish people took the trouble to disturb me," -replied St. Real. "Heard you not the singing, and saw you not the -light?" - -"Foolish people!" cried the friar, with his grey eyes gleaming: "call -you the angels of Heaven foolish people? Yes, profane man, I saw the -light, and I heard the singing; and that you heard and saw it too, -shows me that it was no dream, but a blessed reality! But you saw not -what I saw! you heard not what I heard! You saw not the winged angel -of the Lord that entered my cell, bearing the sword of the vengeance -of God! you heard not the message of Heaven to poor Jacques Clement, -bidding him go forth in the power of faith, and smite the Holofernes -at St. Cloud--the oppressor of the people of the Lord, the enemy and -contemner of the will of the Highest!" - -"No, indeed!" answered St. Real, "I neither heard nor saw any of these -things; but I now perceive, father, that the vision was addressed to -you, not to me, as at first I believed it to be. But tell me, good -father, you surely are not simple enough to take all this that you -have seen for--" - -Ere St. Real could conclude his sentence, the door, which the -Dominican had left ajar, was thrown wide open, and the Prior of the -convent entered the room, and approached the bed where the young -gentleman had remained resting on his arm while he maintained this -brief conversation with Father Clement. "Good morrow, my son!" said -the Prior. "What! still abed! Brother Clement, thou mayst withdraw." - -The friar immediately obeyed; and the superior went on: "I -bring you tidings, my son, which you will be glad to hear. The -lieutenant-general of the kingdom has been informed of your arrest; -and, notwithstanding some circumstances of a suspicious kind which -justified that measure, trusts so much to your good faith and honour, -that he has ordered your liberation, and recognises the validity of -your safe-conduct. Some of his officers wait below; your own -attendants are now collected in the court; and all is prepared in -order that you may immediately visit him. In the meantime, however, -while you rise and dress yourself, I would fain speak a few words of -warning and advice." - -"Willingly will I attend, reverend father," replied St. Real, who was -disposed to show every sort of respect to the teachers of his -religion, although he could not but believe that there was a good deal -of double-dealing, even in the very speech by which the Prior -announced the tidings of his liberation. "Happy am I to hear that the -Duke of Mayenne, however he may have learned my detention, is more -awake to a sense of his own honour, than that detention itself seemed -to imply. But let me hear: what is it you would say, good father?" - -"As a vowed teacher of the true faith, and a preacher of the holy -Gospel," replied the Dominican, "I would warn you, my son, against any -hesitation in those particulars where your eternal salvation is -concerned. In matters of faith, as in matters of virtue, there can be -but one right and wrong: there is no middle course in religion; and, -if you are a true Catholic, holding the doctrines of the apostolic -church, and reverencing that authority which the Saviour of mankind -transferred to blessed St. Peter and his successors, you must hold the -enemies of that church, who oppose its doctrines, and strive for its -overthrow, as blasphemous and sacrilegious heretics, whose existence -is an ulcer in the state, whose very neighbourhood is dangerous, and -whose companionship is a pest. You must hold those who, pretending to -be apostolic Catholics, support, maintain and consort with the enemies -of that religion, as even worse than those enemies themselves, -inasmuch as they add hypocrisy and falsehood to heresy and sacrilege; -and when you perceive that every vice which can degrade human nature -characterises those who are thus apostates to the church, and -protectors of heresy, you will see the natural consequences which fall -upon such as disobey the injunctions of the church they acknowledge, -and the punishment that will attend all those who uphold a foul and -evil cause,--disgrace, dishonour, loss of their own esteem, crimes -that they once regarded with horror; in this life infamy, misfortune, -and reverse; speedy death; and then eternal condemnation." - -In the same strain the Prior proceeded for some time, enlarging, and -not without eloquence, upon all the common topics with which the -preachers of the League were accustomed to stir up the fanatical -spirit of their auditors. He touched also upon St. Real's own -situation, his power of choosing, at that moment, between good and -bad: he spoke of the unquestionable honour and high repute of many of -the leaders of his faction; he painted in the most dark and terrible -colours the vices and the crimes that stained the court of Henry III.; -and he artfully glossed over, or passed in silence, all that could be -detrimental to his own party in the opinion of an honourable and an -upright gentleman. He said nothing of the ambition, the rapacity, the -debauchery, the prostitution of feeling, honour, virtue, patriotism, -to the basest party purposes and the most sordid self-interests, which -disgraced the faction of the League. - -While he proceeded, St. Real went on with the occupations of his -toilet, and, somewhat to the annoyance of the Dominican, heard his -oration in favour of the League with a degree of calmness that set all -his powers of penetration at defiance. He expressed neither assent nor -dissent; neither wonder at all the charges which the Prior brought -against the King and his minions, nor admiration of the characters -which he attributed to the leaders of the League. He listened, but he -did not even take advantage of any pause to answer; and, when the -Prior had completely concluded, he merely said, "Well, father, I shall -soon see all these things with my own eyes, and shall then determine." - -Somewhat piqued to find that all his oratory had produced so small an -effect, the Prior rose, and, with an air of stern dignity, moved -towards the door. As he approached it, he turned, drew up his tall -figure to its full height, and, lifting his right hand, with the two -first fingers raised, he said, in an impressive tone, while he fixed -his keen eyes upon the figure of the young Marquis, "Remember, my son, -what Christ, your Saviour himself, has said: 'He that is not for me, -is against me;'" and, without waiting for a reply, he turned and -quitted the room. - -Unmoved by what he considered, rightly, a piece of stage effect, St. -Real soon followed, and found the door of the corridor left open; -while the servant, who had been suffered to accompany him to the -convent, was seen in the little ante-room beyond, speaking with some -persons in rich military dresses, with whose faces St. Real was -unacquainted. The moment he approached, however, one stepped forth -from the rest, and addressed him by his name. - -"I am commanded, Monsieur de St. Real, to greet you on the part of his -Highness the Duke of Mayenne, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and -to inform you that the arrest under which you have suffered, took -place without either his knowledge or consent, by a mistake on the -part of a body of reitters, who seem to have confounded you in some -way with the troops attached to Monsieur de Longueville. I am further -directed to conduct you to the presence of his Highness, who will -explain to you more at large how these events have occurred. Your own -attendants and horses are already prepared below: and, if it suits -your convenience, we will instantly set out." - -"At once, if it so please you, sir," replied St. Real. "I am so little -used to imprisonment, that every minute of it is tedious to me." - -Proceeding, therefore, to the door of the ante-chamber, at which stood -one of the Dominican friars, St. Real and his companions were led down -to the court, and there mounted their horses. As he was turning his -rein towards the gate, however, his eye fell upon the form of the -Prior, standing at an oriel window above; and, raising his hat, he -bowed with all becoming reverence. The Prior spread his hands, and -gave his blessing in return, adding--"May God bless thee, my son, and -give thee light to see thy way aright!" - -On the present occasion, there appeared to be not only dignity, but -even sincerity, in his tone. Nor, indeed, did St. Real doubt the -purity of his intentions throughout; but, in the wars and factions -that had preceded the time of which we now speak, the young noble had, -as we have said, acted the part of a looker-on; and thus he had -learned many a lesson in the art of appreciating the character of such -men as Prior Edmé Bourgoin--men who, devotedly sincere themselves in -their attachment to the party they espouse, and convinced by passion's -eloquent voice of the justice of their cause, think every means -justifiable to attain its objects, or to bring over converts to its -tenets. St. Real felt sure that the Prior entertained not a doubt of -the rectitude of his own motives, and the propriety of everything he -did in behalf of the League; but he felt equally sure, that the -Dominican would think right and just a thousand means and stratagems, -to obtain his purposes, which he, St. Real, would look upon as base, -dishonourable, and even impious. Whatever end, therefore, had been -sought by confining him in the Jacobin convent, the effect had been -anything rather than increased affection for the League; and, as he -rode away from its gates towards the Hotel de Guise, his only -reflection was, "Well, if such be the means by which the League is -supported, and such the stratagems by which its adherents are gained, -I, at least, will not be one of the crowd of fools whereof its -followers must be composed." - -At the Hotel de Guise a different scene awaited him, and different -means of attraction were played off in order to win him to the -faction. All that had passed at the Jacobins had apparently been -minutely reported to Madame de Montpensier; and, with a profound -knowledge of human nature, and a perfect command of art, she at once -read the principal points of St. Real's character, and adapted her own -behaviour to suit it. The mistakes which she committed, as we shall -presently see, were not from misapprehending the traits of his -disposition, but from not perceiving their depth. - -On alighting from their horses, the young officers who had conducted -St. Real from the Dominican convent, led him at once towards the -audience chamber of the Duke of Mayenne. At the door, however, they -were informed by an attendant that the Duke was busy on matters of -some deep importance, but that he would be at leisure in a few -minutes. Another attendant then stepped forth to usher him to some -waiting-room; and, ere he was aware of it, St. Real was in the -presence of two beautiful women,--the Duchess of Guise, and the -Duchess of Montpensier,--who appeared busy with the ordinary morning -occupations of ladies of that day, and seemed surprised at the -intrusion; though it need scarcely be said, that the whole man[oe]uvre -had been conducted upon their own positive orders. The attendant, who -led the young cavalier thither, seemed also surprised to find that -chamber engaged; and, begging St. Real to follow him again, was -retiring, with many profound reverences and apologies to the two -ladies, when Madame de Montpensier demanded the gentleman's name; and, -glancing her eye over his person, with a smile not at all unnatural, -added, before the man could answer, that, as all the other chambers -were occupied, the stranger might, if he so pleased, remain there till -her brother was disengaged, as he did not seem so ferocious a person -as to make war upon a bevy of women, though Henry of Valois had shown -that even the sacred robe of the church was sometimes no protection. - -St. Real's name was then given by the attendant; who, without further -question, retired, leaving the young cavalier to play his part with -the two artful women in whose society he was placed, as best he might. -The Marquis, however, did not play that part ill. Graceful by nature -and by education, his manners were embarrassed by no kind of -bashfulness; for although his acquaintance with society was but -limited, yet there were two feelings in his bosom which gave him ever -perfect self-possession without presumption. The first of these -feelings was a slight touch of the pride of birth, which taught him, -when in company with the high or the proud, never to forget that he -was himself sprung from the noblest of the land; the second, was the -consciousness of perfect rectitude in every thought, feeling, and -purpose. Besides all this, the St. Reals had been, as I have said, -from age to age, a chivalrous race; and their representative had -strong in his own bosom that species of chivalrous gallantry, which -made him look upon woman's weakness as a constant, undeniable claim to -deference, to courtesy, and to those small attentions, which give -greater pleasure very often than even greater services. - -Madame de Montpensier was surprised and pleased; and the Duchess de -Guise, perhaps, inwardly determined to add St. Real to her train of -admirers. At all events, both bent their efforts, in the first place, -to gain him for the League; and the sister of the haughty house of -Lorraine pursued her plan with the calm and steady purpose of a great -diplomatist. In her communion with the young Marquis, she scrupulously -avoided aught of coquetry--she suffered not a touch even of levity to -be apparent in her manner--she put a guard upon her tongue and upon -her eyes, and suffered not even an idle jest to pass those lips with -which such things were so familiar. At first, affecting even a degree -of distant coldness, she suffered the softer and more blandishing -manners of the Duchess of Guise to smooth away all the difficulties of -an accidental introduction; and then, as the conversation proceeded, -she affected to become more interested, spoke wisely and cautiously, -and assumed the tone of virtue and deep feeling, which she knew would -harmonise with his principles; though, if all tales be true, that tone -was the most difficult for her to affect. - -She soon contrived to discover a fact, of which she seemed to be -ignorant till St. Real told her; namely, that he was the cousin of the -Count d'Aubin; and then, acting upon one of those vague intuitions, -which women are occasionally gifted with in regard to matters of the -heart, she turned the conversation suddenly and abruptly to -Mademoiselle de Menancourt, and the subject of her detention in Paris. -St. Real was taken by surprise: there had been some warring in his -bosom too, of late, in regard to the fair girl, who had been the -companion of his early youth: it was the only point on which his -thoughts were not as free and light as the sunshine on the waters; -and, at the name of Eugenie de Menancourt, so suddenly pronounced, the -blood mounted for a moment into his cheek, and glowed upon his brow. - -Madame de Montpensier saw, without seeming to see; and instantly -understood the whole: but she fancied even more than she understood. -Even though the purity of St. Real's nature forced itself upon her -conviction, the evil and subtlety of her own character affected the -impression which his left upon her mind, and changed it from its -natural appearance. It was like a beautiful face seen in a bad -mirror--the traits the same, and yet the aspect changed. She fancied -that she saw in the feelings of St. Real towards Eugenie de Menancourt -the secret of his hesitation between the League and the Royalists: -not, indeed, that she believed that he wished to bargain for his -services, as so many had done, or that he designed to attempt to -deprive his cousin of the hand of her he loved; but she imagined that -secret, and perhaps unconscious, hopes of some fortuitous -circumstance, proving favourable to his wishes, might be the cause of -a lingering tendency towards the party who could bestow the hand of -Eugenie de Menancourt, when his political feelings led him to support -the royal cause. Upon these suppositions she shaped her plans, and -proceeded to speak of the young heiress with all the tenderness and -consideration of a sister. She commiserated her situation, she -said,--promised by her father to a man that she could not love, and -then left an orphan in the midst of such troublous times. It was -happy, indeed, she added, that the young lady had fallen into the -hands of one in every respect so noble and considerate as the Duke of -Mayenne; for Monsieur d'Aubin must, by this time, have learned, that -the lieutenant-general, endeavouring to exercise his power for the -happiness of all, would not suffer any restraint to be put upon the -inclination of Mademoiselle de Menancourt, but would bestow her hand -upon any one that she could really love, provided his rank and -station, presented no invincible obstacles. - -St. Real was, for a moment, silent; but he at length replied, that he -could not conceive upon what ground Mademoiselle de Menancourt's -present objections to a union with the Count d'Aubin could be founded. -During her father's lifetime, he said, she had not apparently opposed -the alliance; and, as far as he had heard, D'Aubin had given her no -new cause of offence. - -The subject was one on which St. Real found it difficult to speak, -not from any feelings he might experience towards Eugenie de -Menancourt--for, by a strong sense of honour, and a great command over -his own mind, he crushed all sensations of the kind as soon as he -found them rising in his breast,--but his difficulty proceeded from a -consciousness that D'Aubin was to blame, and from a wish to say as -much as possible in favour of his cousin, without deviating from that -rigid adherence to truth, which was the constant principle of his -heart. What he said was true, indeed. Eugenie de Menancourt had -evinced no strenuous opposition to the proposed alliance, so long as -her father lived; and yet it was during his lifetime that St. Real had -principally remarked those errors in the conduct of his cousin which -he thought most calculated to give offence to that cousin's future -bride. He did, therefore, wonder what new motive had given such sudden -and strong determination to one whom he had always remarked as gentle -and complying; and, although he doubted not he should find Eugenie in -the right, he did long to hear from her own lips the reasons upon -which her conduct was founded. - -Madame de Montpensier remarked the restraint under which he spoke, but -attributed it to wrong motives, and shaped her answer accordingly. -"Perhaps," she said, with a significant smile, "Mademoiselle de -Menancourt may have perceived that there are other people, more worthy -of her heart; and, as soon as she finds that her duty to her father no -longer requires obedience, she may yield to her own inclinations, -especially where she finds they are supported by reason." - -"I do not think that, madam," replied St. Real. "I do not think -Eugenie de Menancourt is one to love easily; though, where she did -love, she would love deeply." - -There was a degree of simplicity and unconsciousness in this reply, -that somewhat puzzled Madame de Montpensier, and put her calculations -at fault. She did not choose to let the subject drop, however; and she -replied--"You seem to know this young lady well, Monsieur de St. Real: -have you been long acquainted?" - -"I know her as if she were my own sister," replied St. Real. "We have -been acquainted since our infancy; and, indeed, we are distantly -related to each other." - -"Not within the forbidden degrees, I hope?" said the Duchess or Guise, -with a smile. - -"She will scare the bird from the trap with her broad jests!" thought -the more cautious Catherine de Montpensier, as she saw the colour come -up again to St. Real's cheek; but he replied, with his usual -straightforward simplicity, "I really do not know, madam: I never -considered the matter; but the relationship is, I trust, sufficiently -near to justify me in asking his Highness of Mayenne to grant me an -interview with Mademoiselle de Menancourt, as I wish to see whether I -cannot remove any false impression she may have formed of my cousin, -and induce her to fulfil an engagement on which his happiness -depends." - -Madame de Montpensier gave a sharp eager glance towards the Duchess of -Guise, to prevent her from pressing St. Real too hard; and she herself -replied, "My brother will doubtless grant you the interview, Monsieur -de St. Real; but I am afraid you will be unsuccessful. One thing, -however, you may be sure of, that Mayenne himself will in no degree -press Mademoiselle de Menancourt to such a union, for he is fully -convinced that her objections are but too well founded: and although, -perhaps, the party that we espouse might be benefited by holding out -to your cousin the prospect of our support in this matter, yet it can -in no degree be granted, unless some great change takes place in the -feelings of Mademoiselle de Menancourt herself." - -As St. Real was about to reply, an attendant again appeared, and -announced that Mayenne was, for a few moments, free from those weighty -affairs with which the situation of his party overwhelmed him. The -young Marquis rose to obey the summons: but Madame de Montpensier was -not at all inclined to abandon her unconcluded schemes to the chances -of a private interview between her more candid brother and the object -of her wiles. That which had at first been the mere desire of gaining -a powerful acquisition to her party, and of depriving the Royalists of -a strong support, had now become, under the opposition and -difficulties she had met with, the eager struggle of compromised -vanity. Her reputation for skill and policy were even dearer to her, -at that moment, than her reputation for beauty and wit had ever been; -and, at the mere apprehension of missing her stroke in a matter where -she had risked so much, and employed such means, she called up before -the eyes of imagination the calm, half-sneering smile with which -Mayenne would mark her failure, and the galling compassion with which -all her dear friends and favourite counsellors would commiserate her -disappointment. - -"I have a petition too to present to my all-powerful brother," she -said, rising at the same time; "and, therefore, with your good leave, -Monsieur de St. Real, I will accompany you to his high and mighty -presence." St. Real, perhaps, would have preferred to see Mayenne -alone, but no choice was left him; and, offering his hand, he led her -through the long galleries and corridors of the Hotel de Guise to the -audience-chamber of the lieutenant-general. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -Oh entering the cabinet of the Duke of Mayenne, Madame de Montpensier -and her companion found him still engaged in listening to the reports -of several military men. He instantly made a sign, however, for the -purpose of enjoining silence as his sister approached; and turning to -St. Real, he pointed to a seat. "The Marquis de St. Real, I presume?" -he said, with an air of plain and unaffected dignity. "Your mourning -habit, sir, reminds me that I should condole with you on the death of -one of the noblest gentlemen that France has ever known. He would not, -it is true, take part with those who wished him well; but, even had he -drawn his sword against us, I should have lamented his death as a star -gone out that may never be lighted again." - -There was a brief pause--for St. Real would not trust his voice with a -reply--and the Duke, after having dismissed the officers by whom he -had been surrounded, proceeded: "I trust, Monsieur de St. Real, that -you know enough of him who speaks to you to believe, even without my -saying it, that Charles of Mayenne is utterly incapable of such an act -as that by which my safe-conduct was violated in your instance. For my -own part, the persons who captured you allege, in their excuse, some -dispositions of your troops, which gave cause to suspect an -inclination to support our adversary, the young Duke of Longueville; -but I--judging your sentiments by my own--absolve you from all such -suspicion." - -"You do me justice, my lord," replied St. Real; "I am incapable of -taking advantage of your pass in order to injure you; and, though in -the first heat of anger at my arrest, I might cast the blame on you, I -have since learned to judge better, and to know that it was the -purpose of those who detained me to keep you in ignorance of my -imprisonment. At least, I conclude so from the fact that, on my -desiring one of the lookers-on, as I was carried through the streets, -to bear the tidings to you, the commander, as he seemed, of the -reitters threatened to cut the man's ears off if he obeyed. How the -news was at length brought to you I know not, and would willingly -hear." - -"'Twas a little misshapen dwarf," replied Mayenne, "whom I remember -well about the court some years ago, that brought the tidings, and -bellowed them forth just as I was mounting my horse to ride out this -morning." - -"'Tis one of my own pages, doubtless," replied St. Real. "I fancied -that the little pigmy could ill bear the fatigues of our long march, -and I sent him on hither in a chariot, with another young lad, to -prepare a lodging for me while in Paris." - -"I knew not, sir Marquis," replied Mayenne, "that you, who affect so -much retirement in the provinces, took such pains to follow the modes -of the court. What! you have dwarfs for pages, too, have you? And -doubtless, in such a household as yours, you equal this Henry of -Valois, and have the _tailleur aux nains_, as well as the dwarf's -valet." - -A fear crossed the mind of Madame de Montpensier, lest her brother -should be pressing St. Real somewhat too hard for his own interests; -and she accordingly joined in the conversation at once. "No, no!" she -exclaimed; "depend upon it, Charles, Monsieur de St. Real has obtained -this dwarf through some accident. I am a better judge of nature than -you, Mayenne; and I will answer for it that St. Real is not one to ape -the follies of a vicious court, and have his dozen or two of dwarfs -and buffoons." - -"You are quite right, madam," replied St. Real, who could not but feel -pleased to hear himself so boldly defended by such lovely lips. "This -dwarf was given me, when I needed a page, by my cousin of Aubin, who -prophesied that one day he would serve me at my need--a prophecy which -you see has been happily fulfilled, by the unexpected service he has -rendered me to-day; and I only trust that his Highness of Mayenne will -punish as severely those who have abused his authority, as I will -reward largely the activity of my little page." - -Mayenne's brow darkened a little: for, of course, the contrivers of -the scheme by which St. Real had been brought to Paris he could not -punish; and the executors of that scheme were too necessary to his own -purposes to admit of any severity being exercised towards them, even -had a sense of justice not pointed out that they were mere instruments -in the hands of his sister. He was embarrassed therefore; for he felt -that the mind of the young Marquis of St. Real was too clear and too -straightforward not to detect and appreciate any evasive reply: but -Madame de Montpensier came to his aid. - -"Nay, nay, Monsieur de St. Real," she said, half playfully, half -sadly, "let us not talk of punishments to-day. The miseries and the -pangs which are inflicted by either party on the other are sufficient, -Heaven knows, without requiring us to be very severe upon our own. But -you talked," she added, changing the subject abruptly, "of your page -seeking you a lodging in Paris. Now, this is the Hotel de Guise; and -I, as a daughter of that house, will take upon me to bid you make it -your dwelling while you stay; though my brother, here present, might -have had the courtesy to do so before now." - -"Nay, Catherine," answered Mayenne, "I wished to put no restraint upon -Monsieur de St. Real. He came to the capital to act and to judge for -himself; to examine our cause, to mark the demeanour of those who -support it; and, though anxious--most anxious--to have so noble a name -joined to all those who already uphold the Catholic faith against the -apostate and excommunicated tyrant who would destroy it, yet on no -account would I bias for a moment the judgment of our noble friend, -which, indeed, he might think I wished to do if I pressed him to dwell -here." - -There was a dignified simplicity in the demeanour of the Duke of -Mayenne which pleased St. Real much; but still he wished in no degree -to commit himself with the League, till he had ascertained that there -was some strong and imperative cause for quitting the path which -loyalty and his allegiance pointed out for him to follow. "I thank -you, my lord, for your consideration," he replied; "but it was my -purpose, after this interview, and having obtained one boon at your -hands, to take my leave for the time, in order to proceed to St. -Cloud, as I at first intended." - -A cloud came over the brow of the Duke; but Madame de Montpensier -again interfered. "Monsieur de St. Real," she said, laughing, with -something of a double meaning, "you are strongly inclined to spoil all -my best plans in your favour; but I do not intend to let you do so. -Positively, for this day at least, you shall make your habitation in -the Hotel de Guise. The morning you shall spend as you please--see all -our faults and failings, and spy out the nakedness of the land. At -night you sup with me, to which supper I also bid my lord Duke, here; -and I will take care, that in the course of the evening, you shall -have an opportunity of urging your cousin's suit upon the ear of -Mademoiselle de Menancourt, as long and as privately as you please." - -Mayenne cast an inquiring glance upon his sister; but she only -replied, "Ay, Charles, even so: your fair ward, Eugenie de Menancourt, -with whom Monsieur de St. Real desires to speak in favour of the Count -d'Aubin. However, to this plan I will have no objections, my lord -Marquis; so, on your gallantry, I call you to obey without murmuring, -remembering that, as it is impossible for a young, gay, handsome -cavalier like yourself to have a private interview with a beautiful -girl like Eugenie de Menancourt at her own dwelling without notorious -scandal, this is your only chance. No reply!" she added, with an air -of playful imperiousness; "no reply! but obedience! Herbert!" she -continued, raising her voice loud enough to be heard in the ante-room, -"command the _maītre d'hōtel_ to conduct this gentleman to such a -suite of rooms as may be sufficient for himself and his attendants, -and suited to his high quality." - -It would have needed a heart very stern and stoical to disobey -commands so pleasantly given, and coupled with such temptations. St. -Real, therefore, signified his assent, and, following the officer who -had come to Madame de Montpensier's call, was conducted to an -apartment in the Hotel de Guise, where he was soon joined by his own -attendants, bearing the various articles of baggage which he had -brought with him on quitting his little camp near Senlis, and which, -to their singular honour be it spoken, the reitters had left with no -very important abstractions, though plunder was no uncommon part of -their military avocations. - -Madame de Montpensier, although she had in reality neither boon nor -question to demand of her brother, lingered for a moment after St. -Real was gone, looking archly in the grave face of the Duke of -Mayenne. "Well, Charles," she exclaimed, "do you not thank me for my -assistance? have I not got you nicely out of a scrape?" - -"After having wildly got me into one," replied the Duke. "But tell me, -Kate, what is this business about Mademoiselle de Menancourt? I will -not suffer you to trouble the course of events there." - -"Nor do I purpose to do so," replied Madame de Montpensier; "but I see -farther than you do, Charles, and, at all events, for this day will -have my own way. So, you look to your plans, and I will look to mine, -and may come to help you again when you get into difficulty." Thus -speaking, and without waiting for any farther questions, she turned -away, leaving the Duke to pursue the military arrangements in which he -had been previously occupied. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -St. Real, whose toilet at the convent of the Jacobins had been, -from the circumstances in which he was placed, both hasty and -unceremonious, now proceeded to change a dress suited alone to a -journey, and both deranged and soiled by all that he had lately passed -through. While thus occupied, a loud but well-known voice made itself -heard in the ante-room, exclaiming, "Make way, make way! Paul Thiebaut -and Pierre Langlois, if you do not get out of my way, I will break -your pates with the hilt of my dagger! I will break your pates, though -they may be as thick, and as hard, and as heavy as the leaden pummel -of my old lord's double-handed sword! Out of the way, I say: do you -think one can walk through your great hulking bodies?" - -"No," replied one of the attendants, in a gruff voice, "no! but you -could walk between our legs, I suppose, little Master Bartholo." - -What was the dwarf's reply did not appear; but it would seem that it -was somewhat of a manual nature, for a loud oath and stamp of the foot -followed; and the door of the chamber opened so unceremoniously as to -evince that Bartholo was in some haste to escape from the vengeance -that his replication, whatever it had been, was likely to call down -upon his head. Banging the door in the face of those behind, he -instantly recovered his tranquillity when he found himself in the -presence of his master; and advancing towards St. Real with graceful -ease, bent his little knee to the ground, kissed his lord's hand, and -gave him joy on his arrival in the great capital. - -St. Real replied something kind to his first salutation, and then -added, "But how now, Bartholo! you claim no merit for the service you -have rendered me this morning?" - -"I never like to claim merit," replied the dwarf, in his usual cynical -tone: "I never like to claim merit, especially with people who think -themselves generous; because, if they have forgot my merit, and do not -intend to reward me, my claim is a reproach which they never forgive; -and if they remember my merit, and design to thank me, my claim is a -disappointment." - -"It would be well, my good Bartholo," replied St. Real, "if every one -else acted upon the same principle--not alone to those who think -themselves generous, as you say, but to all men. It would, I believe, -save many a disappointment, and many a bitter aggravation of -ingratitude; for I have remarked that, as you say, those who are -simply forgetful of services hate those who serve them when they are -called on to be grateful. But where is Leonard de Monte? Could not he -find out his master's abode as well as you, Bartholo? or is he one of -those whose memory of kindness does not outlive the act?" - -"Good truth, I do not know, my lord!" replied the dwarf. "I never -judge of folks on brief acquaintance. His memory of kindness may be as -short-lived as a jest at the gallows, or a widow's mourning, or a -court lady's constancy--the sincerity of Madame de Montpensier, or the -smiles of Monsieur de Mayenne, or any other short thing in this short -life, for aught I know; but, in regard to the reason why Leonard's -black eyes did not find you out here, it is that they are even now -looking for you at St. Cloud. As you were two or three days later than -your appointed time, the silly boy took fright, and set out late last -night to seek for you. He would fain have persuaded me to go too; but -I was not to be wheedled into such an errand. I know well that every -fool finds his way to Paris, and that you, therefore, could not well -miss it. So I remained quiet, watching every corner till you appeared; -and then, as I found you guarded more strongly than necessary, and -lodged more holily than I judged you would like, I made bold to bear -the tidings to the Duke of Mayenne, begging him to deliver you -forthwith from the preaching friars, for fear you should be tired of -the friars' preaching." - -"You did well and wisely, Bartholo," replied St. Real; "and, as this -is the first piece of real good-will that I have ever seen you display -to any one, it shall not go without reward. There is my purse, good -Bartholo; and now, while I dress, give me the news of Paris; for you -are sharp enough and shrewd enough, I take it, to discover and to mark -all that is passing in this great city." - -According to his master's desire, Bartholo proceeded to detail all the -gossips, the scandal, and the real news of the capital, commenting, as -he went on, on every anecdote that he related with the keen shrewdness -and sagacity which peculiarly distinguished him. His observations, -indeed, might derive a peculiar turn from his own particular views and -purposes; but, in this curious and complicated world in which we live, -every part fits into the other with such exact nicety, that the great -depend upon the little nearly as much as the little depend upon the -great: the intrigues of the mighty and the powerful, the schemes of -the noble and the high, are almost always to be affected in their -course--to derive their success or receive their overthrow--from the -most mean and despised things that crawl almost unseen around their -presence. Thus, in the present instance, all the art, the tortuous -policy, the consummate acting of Madame de Montpensier was rendered -nearly unavailing by the keen and sarcastic observations, the -knowledge of parties, and the insight into real motives and actions, -of even so insignificant a person as the dwarf. In the course of the -half hour that succeeded, he gave to St. Real a completely new view of -the state of the League, and the motives and characters of its -supporters; and, without one direct assertion, without one attempt to -controvert his opinions, or one apparent effort to obtain a particular -object, he showed his master, that frank simplicity might be assumed -as the best cloak for art, just as much as religion and patriotism -might be affected for the purpose of concealing selfishness and -ambition. - -As soon as he was dressed, St. Real went forth on foot, followed, as -was customary in those days, by two or three armed attendants, and -guided by the dwarf, who took care that he should see everything which -the capital contained that could disgust him with the proceedings of -the League: though why he wished to drive his master into the royal -party was somewhat difficult to discover. He first led the young -Marquis into the large open space in the neighbourhood of the -University, upon the pretence of showing him that building from which -the light of knowledge had been so frequently poured forth upon -France; but it would seem that he had calculated upon another and more -important object presenting itself by the way: nor was he -disappointed: for, immediately on entering the great square, St. -Real's eyes encountered a considerable crowd; and, making his way -forward through the press to a spot where he could see what was -proceeding, he immediately beheld one of the many curious scenes which -were then taking place in the French capital--such as no city in the -world, at any period of its history, has presented, except Paris in -the days of the League. Covered with steel corslets, armed with sword, -and pike, and musketoon, and with their shaven heads covered with that -species of iron caps called a _salade_, appeared a dense body of about -1500 men, man[oe]uvring with that close and serried discipline which -was peculiarly attributed to the Spanish infantry. They seemed, -indeed, at first, a very strong body of regular troops, though -somewhat singularly clothed; but nearer inspection showed the large -hanging sleeves and long flowing gowns of various communities of monks -and friars protruding from under the iron panoply of war. - -As soon as St. Real had satisfied himself that his eyes had not -deceived him, he turned away disgusted, and, led by the dwarf, -proceeded onward to the Bastille, where, entrance being refused to all -but those who came against their own will, or those who had something -to do with the act of bringing them thither, St. Real and his -attendants stood without, while the dwarf commented in a low voice, -but in bitter terms, upon the uses to which that prison was for the -time applied. While thus engaged, a party of horsemen, followed by a -small guard of cavalry, came up at full speed; and their leader, as he -sprang to the ground at the gate of the fortress, turned to give a -hasty glance at St. Real, exposing as he did so, the features of the -Duke of Mayenne. - -As soon as the Duke perceived who it was that was gazing up to the -building, he beckoned to him to approach, saying, in the same bold and -candid tone which he usually employed, "If you will come in with me, -Monsieur de St. Real, you shall see the inside as well as the outside -of this famous prison; and may also see--" he added, knitting his -brows, "and may also see to what evil purposes power may sometimes be -applied in troublous times, and how difficult it is for one who -endeavours to guide aright the outburst of popular indignation to -insure that his name and authority shall not be abused by others, even -while he is labouring night and day himself to re-establish order and -justice, and promote the public weal." - -St. Real readily agreed to his proposal, as his desire was to see all -that he could during his short stay in the capital. Every gate opened -at the appearance of the Duke; but, as if by previous orders, he was -not alone accompanied by his own immediate suite, but was also -followed by at least one-half of the cavalry forming his escort: who, -dismounting from their horses, gave their bridles to their companions, -and kept close to the heels of Mayenne as he advanced. The guards and -warders at the second and third gates looked suspiciously upon the -number of soldiers thus introduced into the fortress, and seemed to -hesitate in regard to giving them admission. Mayenne walked on; and, -before his bold and determined aspect, all opposition at once gave -way. A man at the second gate, indeed, made a sudden movement, as if -to communicate the fact of the Duke's arrival to others in the -interior of the building; but in a stern though low tone, Mayenne -commanded him to stay where he was, and advanced rapidly unannounced. -It would seem, indeed, that his coming took the demagogues then in -possession of the Bastile by surprise. In the inner court a knot of -several persons might be observed standing under a beam, which was -thrust out of one of the loophole windows of an angular tower, and -from which beam dangled a strong cord, formed into that ominous -ellipsis, the sight of which has made many a stout heart turn cold. -One of the group assembled below was in the very act of demonstrating -to his fellows that it would be necessary to fetch a bench or table in -order to bring their pastime to a crisis, inasmuch as the rope was too -short, and the noose fully eight feet from the ground, when the -appearance of Mayenne stopped his oration in the midst. - -The speaker raised his hat at the approach of the Duke; but the glance -that he gave was certainly not one of welcome or of love. "What are -you doing, Monsieur le Clerc?" demanded Mayenne, sternly eyeing the -fatal preparations before him. "All this seems very like an intention -of again overstepping your authority." - -The person he addressed was a shrewd bold-looking man, with an -expression of quick eager cunning, not unlike that of a monkey. "We -were going, my lord Duke, to do what, I trust, you will be well -pleased to witness," replied Bussy le Clerc: "we were going to execute -a traitor, a rebel to lawful authority, and an enemy to the apostolic -League and to the Catholic faith--him who was formerly called the -President Blancmesnil." - -"And how did you dare, sir," exclaimed Mayenne, in a tone that cowed -even the bold plotter before him, "how did you dare to stir in such a -matter without my authority? I ask you not where you got the -impudence, for that you lack not for any feat; but where did you get -the courage for such a deed? Am I, or am I not, lieutenant-general of -the kingdom? and am I man to pass by such an act without punishment?" - -"You are, my lord--you are lieutenant-general of the kingdom," replied -Bussy le Clerc, in a humble tone; but the next moment he muttered -between his teeth, "You are lieutenant-general of the kingdom; but -those who made can unmake." - -Notwithstanding the low tone in which he spoke, Mayenne seemed to -catch his words; for, grasping him suddenly and firmly by the arm with -his left hand, he pointed to the instrument of death, which Le Clerc -had prepared for others, and, shaking the forefinger of his right in -the pale countenance of the bloody man before him, he fixed his eyes -upon him with a look of dark and stern significance, the meaning of -which was not to be mistaken. He said not a word, but the glance was -sufficient; and there was no one present who did not read therein a -threat to make the demagogue taste of the portion he assigned to -others, if he pursued his bloody course any further--a threat which -did not fail to receive its accomplishment at an after period. - -Mayenne held him in his powerful grasp for nearly a minute; then, -letting his arm drop, he turned, and, while Le Clerc slunk away -amongst his creatures, exclaimed aloud, "Bring forth the President de -Blancmesnil!" - -Several of the officers hastened to obey; and an old man, whose noble -countenance and silver hairs might well win respect and pity, was -brought out into the court, while two or three of the governor's -satellites hurriedly untied the cords which had pinioned his hands -behind. - -"Ah! my good lord of Mayenne!" he exclaimed, as he approached, "I am -happy to see your face." - -"I had nearly come too late, Monsieur de Blancmesnil," replied -Mayenne; "but still I am in time to tell you, that by the authority in -me reposed, you are set free from this moment; and that whatever -proceedings have been taken against you, in whatever court, whether -legal or illegal, are null and void, so far as I can render them so." - -The old man cast himself at Mayenne's feet and embraced his knees. -"Thank you, my lord!" he said: "I thank you, and God will reward you -for saving a guiltless man, on whose life some hopes and some -affections are still fixed by those he loves; but yet, my lord, one -boon--grant me one boon more, and let the cup of your generosity -overflow! You have given me life--give me also liberty, and suffer me -to retire from a city where each day shows me something either to -condemn or to regret, and retire to the court of my lawful sovereign, -where alone I can serve my country as I ought." - -Mayenne paused for a moment, and his countenance, though not of the -most expressive character, gave evident marks of a strong internal -struggle; the quick glance of displeasure, and the open expansion of -more generous feelings, succeeding each other rapidly, like the quick -light and shade flying across a landscape in an autumn day, as the -clouds are borne over the bright sky by the hasty wind. The sunshine, -however, at length predominated. "Be it so; Blancmesnil, be it so," he -replied, "be it so. I had hoped that your wisdom, your attachment to -the faith, and your love of virtue would have kept you from a court of -fools, of heretics, and of villains; but I will not stay you, if you -love such men." - -"My lord," said Blancmesnil in a tone almost of sorrow, "it would be -ungrateful in me to answer you. Suffer me alone to say, that the most -imperative and absolute sense of duty alone would induce me to repeat -the request which I have made. None would more willingly spend his -last few hours of this brief life in the service of one so noble and -so generous as yourself than old Blancmesnil; but it cannot be, my -lord, without the sacrifice of all those principles which have won me -the esteem of your Highness." - -"Well, well!" replied Mayenne, conscious that the impression produced -by any further discussion of this kind in the hearing of St. Real -would be very opposite to that which he could desire; "well, well! far -be it from me to withhold any man from the path on which he thinks -that duty prompts him. A bold enemy I love next to a faithful friend: -it is only traitors to either cause that deserve punishment. Go! -Blancmesnil, go! and do not forget that as much as we hate the vices -which we are armed to crush, so much do we love virtue, even in an -enemy!" - -Mayenne felt that he had regained his advantage; and, turning to St. -Real, he said, "Well, Monsieur de St. Real, you will return with me, -for it grows late, and my sister will soon expect us. I will bear you -company on foot. Sometimes I love to ramble amongst the people for a -while, and hear the unvarnished opinions of the streets. Greatness, -caged in gilded saloons, knows too little of the world around it, and -needs now and then to take a flight amongst the wide universe of other -beings, to learn how many varied and different aspects the state of -all things can assume to the myriads of eyes that are looking on each -passing event. You, Longjumeau," he continued, "take the horsemen, and -guard Monsieur de Blancmesnil safely to his house. Wait there with him -till all his preparations are made; and then, with a white flag, pass -him safely to the outposts of the Huguenots at Meudon. Fare you well, -Blancmesnil!" he added, turning to the old man; "I must embrace you -once more, though you will be my enemy." - -"Perhaps more your friend, my lord, in quitting you, than I should -have been in staying with you," replied the President. Mayenne -answered nothing, but, turning away, led St. Real from the Bastile, -and took his way back to the Hotel de Guise, followed on foot by the -principal part of the gentlemen of his household who had attended him -to the state prison. No matter of any importance occurred during their -walk; and St. Real was pleased to find, that far from attempting in -any degree to influence him against his better judgment, the Duke -confined his conversation solely to indifferent topics, commenting -upon all the many objects of attention which all great cities present -with as much liveliness as his nature permitted. More than one -interruption occurred as they passed on, springing from the various -duties and functions with which the Duke had charged himself, or with -which the people chose to burden him. It was now an officer from the -outposts, who stopped them on the way to demand orders and directions -for the night; then a bare-footed friar, of not the most prepossessing -appearance, approached the princely Mayenne, and held with him a -whispering conversation of several minutes in the open street; then -again a high officer, belonging to one of the courts of law, with his -bonnet in his hand, presented some papers relative to the proceedings -against the President de Blancmesnil; and then an old woman, thinking -that she had as good a right as any other citizen of Paris to her -share of the great Duke, hobbled across his path, and presented her -dirty _placet_ regarding a stall in the Fauxbourg de l'Université, and -reinforced her petition by a torrent of that peculiar eloquence -possessed by old apple-women in all civilised countries. - -Mayenne gave her some mild but evasive reply; and turning with a smile -towards St. Real, as they walked on, he said, "You see the post I -occupy is not without its cares, and those cares so nicely balanced as -to be all equally weighty; for you may judge, by that old woman, that, -if the greater cares are more oppressive, the lighter are the more -importunate." - -All these interruptions of their onward progress had occupied no small -time; so that the western sky began to look rosy with the summer -sunset ere they reached the Hotel de Guise. "Quick! Monsieur de St. -Real," said Mayenne, as they entered the vestibule; "quick! for in -less than half an hour my sister will expect us at her supper-table." - -St. Real accordingly retired to his apartments, and changing his dress -with all speed, sent down one of his followers to seek out some of the -attendants of the Duchess de Montpensier, and discover to what -chamber, of all the many in that wide and rambling mansion, he was to -bend his steps. Almost immediately after a servant of the Duchess -appeared to conduct him; and he was led down the stairs, and through -the manifold passages and turnings of the Hotel de Guise, at that -particular moment of the day ere factitious light has supplied the -place of the blessed sunshine, and when such rays of the set orb as -still linger in the sky and find their way through the windows--though -as rosy as those of the morning--are melancholy rather than gay. At -length the servant opened the door of a small cabinet, and passing -through, led St. Real into a larger room beyond, where he left him. - -Standing near one of the windows at the farther end, and apparently -gazing forth with some attention, appeared the figure of a lady in -deep mourning. The light was not sufficient for St. Real to -distinguish who she was; but her garb showed that it was not Madame de -Montpensier, and St. Real was sure that it was not the Duchess de -Guise. His heart beat quick, far quicker than he liked--for the heart -is sometimes a prophet--and, for a moment, he paused in the midst of -the room. The next instant, however, he again advanced: the lady -turned as he approached, roused from her reverie by the sound of his -footsteps, and St. Real suddenly found himself alone in the chamber -with Eugenie de Menancourt. He was not surprised--at least he had no -right to be so--for he was prepared to meet Mademoiselle de Menancourt -at the Hotel de Guise that night; but it were vain to say that he was -not agitated. He knew not why, and he was angry with himself for -feelings which he could not, which he would not, perhaps, account for -to his own understanding. - -With Eugenie it was different. She was both surprised and agitated; -for the last person she had expected, yet the person she had most -wished to see, was the Marquis of St. Real. It was natural enough, -too, that she should desire to see him: she had known him from her -infancy; she had learned, in the early habits of unrestrained -intercourse, to look upon him as a brother; she had found him always -kind and gentle in his affections, clear and just in his opinions, and -firm and noble in his principles; and, in the friendless and orphan -state in which she was now left, there was no one to whom she so -longed to apply for advice, assistance, and protection as to Huon of -St. Real. At one time, indeed, in her utter ignorance of the -selfishness of faction, she had contemplated applying to the Duke of -Mayenne for permission to retire to the castle of the old Marquis of -St. Real, whose neutrality between the contending parties of the day, -she had fondly fancied, might obviate the objections which the leader -of the League would entertain to any other asylum not within the -immediate grasp of his own power. There was, however, in her bosom a -vague unacknowledged consciousness of feelings, which she wished not -to render more distinct--a sort of apprehension lest the world should -attribute to her motives that she would have shrunk from entertaining ---which made her hesitate so long in regard to giving voice to her -request, that ere she decided the tidings reached her that the old -lord was dead, and that the refuge which she might otherwise have -hoped to find in his dwelling was consequently shut against her -forever. Her thoughts, then, had often been busy with St. Real; she -had often longed to see him, to speak with him, to confide her -situation, her fears, her anxieties, her danger, to one in whom she -was sure to find a kind and feeling auditor. With these wishes, -however, no hopes had been combined. She knew, or believed she knew, -that St. Real's principles would lead him to join the royal party; and -that, therefore, unless he entered Paris as a victor or a prisoner, -there was little chance of his visiting the capital. Madame de -Montpensier, in summoning her to the Hotel de Guise, had given her no -information of the object for which she was called thither; and she -had obeyed with some degree of alarm, which had not been decreased by -an apparent inattention and want of courtesy on the part of the -Duchess, evinced by leaving her for nearly half an hour unnoticed in -the wide and solitary chamber to which she had been ushered on her -first arrival. Her sensations, therefore, on beholding St. Real, were -purely those of surprise and pleasure; but they reached the height of -agitation. - -She spoke not; but, as the last light that lingered in the sky shone -upon her beautiful countenance through the open window, St. Real -beheld the warm blood rush up into her cheek and forehead, a beaming -lustre dance in her eyes, and a bright irrepressible smile play about -her lips, that plainly told he was no unwelcome visiter. The hand that -was instantly extended to him he took in his; and he thought it no -treason to his cousin to press his lips upon it. All that Eugenie and -St. Real first said was too hurried and confused, too shapeless and -unconnected, to bear much meaning if written down in mere cold words, -without the looks, and the gestures, and the feelings, that at the -time gave life and soul to those words themselves. They had a thousand -things to speak of. Since their last meeting each had lost a father, -each had lost a friend; and the affection that either had borne to the -dead parent of the other was matter of deep sympathy and feeling -between them. All their thoughts, their sorrows, their regrets, were -in common, and their conversation, for some time, was one of those -deep, touching, artless, unrestrained communications of mutual ideas, -which--full of the reciprocation of bright sentiments--more than aught -else on earth knit heart and heart together. - -At length St. Real remembered that he was losing moments which he had -destined for another purpose; and some of the servants entering to -light the lamps and sconces in the apartment, at once showed him that -he had no time to lose, and gave him an opportunity of changing the -topic. As soon as they were left once more alone, he spoke of his -cousin, the Count d'Aubin, and approached, without directly speaking -of the subject of his pretensions, to Mademoiselle de Menancourt. - -Eugenie turned as pale as death, and then again the red blood mounted -to her cheek with a quick vehement blush: she too felt that there was -an infinity to be said, and feared that there might be little time to -say it. There was much--she felt there was much--to be staked upon the -conversation of the next few instants; and she determined that, -whatever report of her sentiments St. Real might bear his cousin, it -should be such as to put an end for ever to his hopes of her -affection. - -"And would you, St. Real," she said, "would you, who know both him and -me, would you press me to fulfil an engagement, in making which I -myself bore no part, and which, even on the side of my father, was, as -far as I can learn, but conditional? No, St. Real, no! sooner than -disobey my father's commands, I would have sacrificed happiness, -perhaps life itself: but he left me free, and pointedly, with his last -breath, bade me, in the difficult circumstances in which I should be -placed, use my own judgment. That judgment will never lead me to -become the wife of one who can act as you and I have seen Philip -d'Aubin act." - -"But, believe me, Eugenie," replied St. Real, "Philip has changed. He -loves you deeply, sincerely; and that love will teach him to seek your -happiness by gaining your esteem." - -"No, no! St. Real," replied Eugenie with a sigh, "no, no! he loves -nothing but himself. I know him better than you do. While I thought -that, at some time, I was to become his wife, I strove to love him as -great an effort as woman can strive to direct the feelings of her own -heart. In striving to love him, I strove to know him; and thus I -learned all the baseness, all the selfishness, of his character. -Forgive me, St. Real, for using such harsh language: you know it is -not in my nature to speak or to feel thus, except in a case where all -my happiness is concerned: but I wish you to understand at once, and -for ever, that I will not marry Philip d'Aubin--because I do not love -him." - -"But might not time, and assiduity, and nobler deeds, teach you to -love him?" demanded St. Real: "for, believe me, Eugenie, better -qualities lie slumbering in his heart, which a great object might -awake and strengthen. Might he not teach you to love him?" - -"I would not love him for a universe," replied Eugenie; "for the woman -who loves him is sure to be miserable. But press me no more, St. Real, -press me no more: my resolution is taken--my mind and my heart are -fixed. I do not love Philip d'Aubin--I never have loved him--I never -can love him; and, sooner than become his wife, I would resign all -that I have on earth but the dowry of a nun; quit the world, and seek -peace in the cloister." - -St. Real replied but by a sigh; and although that sigh might be one of -sorrow for the disappointment of his cousin, yet it called up in the -bosom of Eugenie de Menancourt varied emotions, that, for a moment, -sent another bright flush across her cheek, which, fading away again, -left her as pale as death. Ere the soft natural hue had returned, and -ere St. Real had time to separate his mingled feelings from each -other, and give to those he thought it right to express, the door -opened, and Madame de Montpensier appeared alone. - -Strange is it to say, but no less true, that though Eugenie de -Menancourt and Huon de St. Real had both longed for such a moment of -calm and unobserved communion, the approach of a third person was, at -that moment, a relief to both. Nor was the manner of Madame de -Montpensier at all calculated to lessen that sensation: it was the -same which she had assumed in the morning towards St. Real, and which -she had found succeed so well, that she determined not to abandon it -till he had quitted Paris. She was, perhaps, even calmer and more -tranquil in her demeanour now than she had appeared before: for -reading, with deep knowledge, the secrets of the human heart, she knew -that such a demeanour was best in harmony with the feelings which she -wished St. Real and Eugenie to experience towards each other. -Approaching, then, slowly and tranquilly, she welcomed Mademoiselle de -Menancourt cordially, and then proceeded to speak of various -indifferent subjects with wit and grace, but with very tempered -gaiety, until the appearance of the Duchess of Guise, and then of the -Duke of Mayenne, gave a different turn to the conversation. Supper was -almost immediately announced; and, during the meal, all passed in the -same calm tone. Eugenie, for the first time in her life, thought -Madame de Montpensier as fascinating in manners as she was generally -reported to be; and although she could not help feeling, with a degree -of discomfort, that the eyes of the princess were frequently upon her -with an inquiring, or rather, investigating, glance, yet the minutes -went by more pleasantly than any she had known for many months. St. -Real, too, felt the time brief and sweet; but, arguing from the costly -apparel of the Duchess and her sister, that they were either going -forth to figure on some more splendid scene, or were about to receive -other guests at home, he judged that the moments allowed to such -conversation as he then enjoyed would be but few; and he tormented -himself by remembering a thousand things he wished to say to -Mademoiselle de Menancourt, which he had forgotten at the only time -when they could have been said. - -At length the party rose; and, if the sound of rolling wheels, and -shouting attendants, and trampling horses, augured true, the members -of the house of Guise were even somewhat late in preparing to receive -the noble guests who were invited that night to meet together in -gaiety and splendour, though the morning had passed with many in -strife and bloodshed, and though iron war was thundering with his -cannon at the gates. - -On the first signal of their design to quit the supper table, the -attendants, who stood round, threw open the doors of the hall, and -Madame de Montpensier, taking Eugenie by the hand, led the way into -another chamber, which was already brilliantly lighted, and evidently -prepared for some occasion of splendour, but into which, as yet, no -one had been admitted. Passing through that and several rooms beyond, -they at length approached a saloon, the door of which was open, and -from which proceeded the busy hum of many voices; while various -figures were seen passing to and fro across the aperture of the -doorway, like the painted shadows cast by a phantasmagoria. Some of -those guests, however, who watch for great men's steps, and observe -their looks, soon perceived the approach of the family of Guise; and -the words, "The Duke, the Duke! His Highness the lieutenant-general!" -pronounced by several voices within, created, for the moment a brief -bustle among the guests, and then the silence of expectation, till the -party entered the room. - -The number already assembled might amount to nearly fifty, of whom the -greater proportion were officers and soldiers, either personally -attendant upon the Duke of Mayenne, or eager to pay court to him whose -fortunes were for the time in the ascendant. For them, governments, -commands, and the many military employments which gave profuse -opportunity of squeezing a divided people, formed the attractions -towards one at whose disposal were placed all the good things of at -least one half the empire. The rest of the party who occupied the -saloon were made up of the lower classes of the French nobility, male -and female, principally the _noblesse de la robe_, who, with the same -views as the others, though directed in a different line, sought to be -amongst the first at the Hotel de Guise. - -Not long after, however, another class began to arrive, who, willing -to associate with Mayenne, to partake of the influence of his good -fortune, to share what he chose to delegate of his power, and to -obtain for their younger children the various benefices in his gift, -were yet desirous of distinguishing themselves from even the democracy -of their own order, by making the hour of their visit somewhat later, -that they might not be confounded in the first rush of the subservient -crowd. Last of all, as if in mockery of the pride of their immediate -predecessors, came the fops, the coxcombs, the witlings, the -debauchees of Paris, heedless of all interests but the dear first -all-absorbing interests of their own vanity, and ready to laugh or -sneer at everything and everybody, from the great Duke himself, down -to the last new-made _procureur_, who claimed a right to bear arms and -call himself _gentilhomme_. - -On his arrival in the hall, the Duke advanced and bowed round him with -the dignity, and perhaps with a little more than the pride, of a -legitimate monarch. Though his eye had not much of the fire and energy -which characterized that of his father and his brother, it was -sufficiently quick and marking to observe in the room all those who -are likely to be serviceable, either individually to himself, or more -generally, to the state; and to each of these he took care to address -some word of more particular favour and encouragement. Some he passed -with a mere inclination of the head; some he noticed not at all. -Madame de Montpensier, however, though in her heart prouder than her -brother, was one of those--of those few persons--capable of feeling -the master passions of human nature in all the terrible energy in -which they can display themselves. Hatred, revenge, and ambition, were -for the time, predominant in her heart: and these are idols to which, -as to the Moloch of the Ammonites, pride will even sacrifice its -children. Knowing and feeling that the meanest man present might -accelerate or retard the objects of her desire, casting aside all her -natural vanity, and all the haughtiness of her race, Madame de -Montpensier mingled with the crowd, and--while her languishing -sister, the Duchess of Guise, sat coquetting with her own particular -admirers--she spoke with every one, smiled upon every one, and left -each with increased prepossession in her favour, and renewed -attachment to her cause. - -As the crowd increased, and the rooms became full, the party separated -into groups, classing themselves by the various standards of rank, -opinions, wit, or tastes. For all, amusement was provided in case -conversation should not be sufficient to fill up the time; and many -took advantage of such arrangements to favour or to conceal the -purposes and the views with which each came thither more or less -preoccupied. In one chamber the dice rolled upon the board, while one -of the most vehement players was every now and then seen to hold a -brief conversation with various persons who came and went in the room. -At other tables again, those flat, dull pieces of mischievous -pasteboard called cards were dealt and played in solemn silence, -except when some biting jest, or well-directed and premeditated sneer, -found a hook to hang itself upon, even in so insignificant a thing as -the foolish names assigned to different cards. Then, again, in a vast -and brilliant hall beyond, music of the sweetest kind hung upon the -air; while the dance offered its protection to every sort of scheming, -from the soft business of innocent love, to foul intrigue and tortuous -policy. - -In the midst of all this, St. Real, in the simplicity of his heart, -saw nothing but very innocent amusement. Eugenie refused to take a -part in the dance; and how or why he knew not, St. Real found himself -generally by her side. Such a scene, of all others on the earth, -affords the greatest opportunity of private communication; but, if the -thoughts, the wishes, and the purposes of the speakers be not -intimately known to each other, it may become the most dangerous place -for such communion also. The half-spoken sentence is so often -interrupted at the very point where it is the most interesting, and -where it most needs explanation--so much must be said in haste, or not -said at all--so much must be left to fancy--so great is the treasure -turned over to imagination--that he who plays with hearts should be -very sure of his game before he ventures boldly in such a scene as -that. St. Real and Eugenie de Menancourt conversed, at first, upon -subjects of every-day import and of general reference; but there were -between them so many stores of private feeling and thought, that, upon -whatever topic they began, the conversation soon flowed back to -matters in regard to which their own hearts were in unison respecting -either the past or the present. They found it vain to struggle against -the stream of sympathies that either sooner or later drew their -communion apart from the things that surrounded them; and as the -evening went on, they more and more gave way to what they felt; -endeavouring, indeed, to avoid speaking of their own sentiments in an -individual manner, but still only covering their personal feelings -under a thin veil of general observations. This veil, too, was so -often rent by accidental interruptions--the termination of a phrase -which was intended to give it its general character so often remained -unspoken, that every minute, as it flew, left the hearts of Eugenie de -Menancourt and Huon of St. Real with deeper and more agitating -feelings than either of them had ever felt before: and yet, like all -other people who have loved where it would have been wiser not, they -were unconscious of what they were encouraging in their own hearts. -Eugenie was agitated, but was not alarmed. St. Real was delighted, but -only fearful, when he saw the eye of any one marking the close -position that he occupied by Eugenie's side, lest it should be -supposed that he was making love to her who had been promised to his -cousin; but he never believed--he never dreamed--that he was making -love--that he was winning her heart, and yielding his own. The very -efforts he had made that very night in favour of his cousin were -sufficient to blind him entirely, and to lead him, like a general -deceived by his guides, into the cunning ambush which the keen archer -Cupid so skilfully lays for the advanced parties of the human heart. - -At length, towards midnight--that enchanted hour, when all the powers -of the imagination, the fairies of the microcosm within us, are up and -revelling in the greenest spots of the human heart--at length, towards -midnight, when music, and conversation, and gay sights, and happy -faces all around, and pleasant words, and the bright eyes of the sweet -and beautiful, had left St. Real's fancy as excited as ever was -Bacchus' self by the juice of the Achaian vine, Madame de Montpensier -stood by his side; and, laying the jewelled forefinger of her right -hand upon his arm, called his attention while she said, "I have a -message to give Monsieur de St. Real from my brother, who cannot -detach himself from that group to speak with you in person, and who -fears that you may be absent to-morrow, ere he can see you. I will not -detain you one instant." - -St. Real obeyed the summons at once, giving but one look, as he turned -to follow Madame de Montpensier, towards Eugenie de Menancourt, and -another towards a young cavalier, who hastened to fill up the place he -abandoned at her side. The Duchess also gave a glance to each, and a -third to St. Real; and then, with a smile, led the way across the -ball-room, and through two or three chambers beyond, to the utmost -verge of the long suite of apartments, which was that night thrown -open to the public. - -There, looking round her to see that she was unobserved, she paused, -and turned towards the young cavalier. "Monsieur de St. Real," she -said, in a calm, sweet, but impressive tone, "when you came to Paris, -you came undecided whether to join the friends and supporters of the -Catholic faith, or its enemies. I think that you have seen enough of -us now to judge and to decide; and I have not the slightest doubt of -what your decision will be; nay, what it is! But, setting all that -apart, I have an offer to make you, which the noblest amongst all yon -glittering throng would give his right hand to hear addressed to -himself. Mark me, Monsieur de St. Real! A woman's eyes are keen: you -love Mademoiselle de Menancourt! Nay, stop me not; but hear! Eugenie -de Menancourt loves you! I, in the name of the lieutenant-general of -the kingdom, offer you her hand. Take it, and be happy! Spare my -brother a world of anxiety and difficulty on her account; spare her -the pain of importunity; relieve her from the helpless exposure of her -present situation; and make the loveliest creature of all France -happy, in the protection of him she loves!" - -Pausing for a moment, she gave one glance at the countenance of her -auditor, and then added, "Say not a word to-night! but breakfast with -me _tźte-ą-tźte_ to-morrow, when all difficulties and obstacles shall -be removed for ever!" - -She turned away, and left St. Real standing alone in the room, feeling -that the casket of his heart was opened to his own sight, and its -deepest secrets displayed, never to be concealed again by any of the -thin and glistening veils with which human weakness cloaks itself so -effectually against the purblind eyes of self-examination. He cast -himself into a seat, and for some minutes remained in bitter commune -with his own heart, while the music and the dancing, and the gay -society of the capital, were as unmarked as if they had not existed. -Then remembering, painfully, that his demeanour had been already but -too accurately watched, he rose, and, with a flushed cheek and -contracted brow, returned to the chief saloon. As he approached -Eugenie de Menancourt, however, he perceived that she was preparing to -depart with a lady of high rank and advanced years, under whose -especial care Madame de Montpensier had placed her. Eugenie paused as -he came near. The crowd of gay gallants, who were pressing forward -with the formal courtesy of the day to offer their services in -conducting her to the carriage, drew back as he approached, as if -already warned of the purposes of Mayenne in regard to the rich -heiress. St. Real felt what was expected of him, and at once offered -his hand; but it was with an air of restraint and absence that -instantly caught the eye of her to whom he spoke. She suffered him to -lead her through the rooms in silence; but, as a turn on the staircase -left them for a moment alone, her anxiety prevailed, and, with an -unsteady voice, she said, "You seem suddenly unhappy, Monsieur de St. -Real. Has anything occurred to pain you?" - -St. Real was not a good dissembler; and Eugenie had not dissembled. He -heard in the soft, scarce audible tone--he felt in the trembling of -the hand that lay in his--he saw in the soft and swimming eyes that -looked on him--the truth of one part of what the Princess had said; -and in his own heart he felt but too strongly the truth of all the -rest. St. Real was not a good dissembler; and all he could reply was, -"Oh, Eugenie!" but it was enough. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -St. Real entered not again the lighted halls in which the leaders and -partisans of the League were assembled; but he paused for a moment in -the open air, after the carriage which bore Eugenie de Menancourt -towards her solitary home had driven out of the courtyard and passed -away down the echoing streets. A momentary burst of artillery and -small arms came, borne upon the wind, from a distance, as the -indefatigable Henry of Navarre roused the Parisian garrisons with an -_alerte_ from the side of Meudon: but the mind of St. Real was too -deeply busied with other thoughts for the thunder of the cannon to -awake in his heart the martial and chivalrous spirit that lay within. -The discovery which he had made of his own feelings was, in every -respect, painful; and the insight which he had gained into those of -Eugenie de Menancourt herself--although there is ever a sweet and -soothing balm in the consciousness of being loved--was hardly less -bitter. The idea of entering into rivalry with his cousin--of -attempting to deprive one who confided in him of the hand of his -promised bride--the idea of seeking, or even receiving happiness -himself at the expense of that of Philip d'Aubin, found not harbour in -the bosom of St. Real for one single moment. Deeply and severely did -he blame himself for having suffered such feelings to grow up in his -heart as the occurrences of that night had discovered to his own -sight; and still more bitterly did he reproach himself for having -allowed his feelings to carry him away as they had lately done. Even -the degree of regard with which he saw that Eugenie de Menancourt -looked on him was an additional reproach; for he well knew that that -regard could not have been obtained without conduct on his own part -which, although involuntary, he looked upon as a betrayal of his -cousin's confidence. - -St. Real was not a man, however, to waste upon fruitless regrets those -powers of mind which should be employed in forming and executing noble -resolutions. He grieved bitterly for what was past, but he grieved -only with the purpose of shaping his conduct differently for the -future; and, as he turned again to enter the Hotel de Guise, it was -with the full determination of never seeing Eugenie de Menancourt -again, till the fate of Philip d'Aubin, as far as it was connected -with hers, was fixed beyond all recall. - -This resolution was joined with another, which rendered the first not -difficult to execute. With all her art, with all her skill, with all -her knowledge of human character, and with all her insight into that -of St. Real, Madame de Montpensier had overreached herself. She had -been able to comprehend and appreciate the simplicity and purity with -which he was attached to Eugenie de Menancourt, without perceiving the -nature of his own feelings; but the quality of her own mind prevented -her from comprehending the deep firmness of principle which existed in -his heart, and from foreseeing the means that principle would take to -combat love as soon as ever the progress of the insidious enemy was -discovered. The proposal that she had made to him had produced upon -the mind of St. Real an effect the most directly opposite to that -which she had intended. The character of the Duke of Mayenne St. Real -could not but esteem: there was a dignity, a generosity, a frankness -about it, which, together with his splendid talents, commanded no -small admiration; and had St. Real been convinced that his opposition -to his king, that his bold rebellion, that even his connexion with a -party, factious, turbulent, and depraved, originated in motives of -patriotism and virtue, his views of the League might have been -modified by his opinion of the leader, and his ultimate conduct -determined by the judgment he might form in regard to whether that -leader's efforts would, or would not, be ultimately beneficial to his -country. In the course of that night, however, he had heard and seen -enough to convince him that the passion of Mayenne was ambition, and -that his object was his own aggrandizement; and the only hold, -therefore, that the League could have had upon St. Real would have -been virtue, honour, and patriotism, in the whole, considered as a -party. - -The question, therefore, with the young Marquis had now become, -whether the League did, or did not, possess such qualities. At the -Jacobins, on the preceding night, however, he had witnessed the means -employed by those who were considered the holiest men amongst them to -obtain ends which he could not doubt were treacherous and bloody: that -very night it had been calmly proposed to him, as a bribe to attach -him to the party of the League, to betray his cousin's confidence, and -to gratify his own passions at the expense of his honour and -integrity. In his examination of the city during the day, he had seen -the high and the noble demeaning themselves to court popularity by -fawning on persons they despised--an irrefragable proof that their own -designs were base; he had seen the good and the just in the filthy and -unsparing hands of villains and plunderers; and he had seen those who -professed to be the ministers of a God of peace armed to promote a -civil war and to shed the blood of their fellow-creatures! - -What then could be the result, he asked himself, when a leader, whose -principle was ambition, took upon him to guide a fierce and lawless -multitude, composed of nobles whose motive was selfishness, of priests -whose spirit was fanaticism, and of a rabble whose objects were -licentiousness, bloodshed, and plunder? The answer was not difficult; -and, as he turned and mounted the staircase, amidst the crowd of -lacqueys and attendants who stared at his thoughtful and abstracted -demeanour without his noticing their presence, he determined to -proceed to the royal camp as early as might be on the following -morning, doubting not that, whatever might be the vices and the -follies it presented to his sight, he should there find the path which -led to his country's welfare, and, he trusted, also to his own peace -of mind. - -Passing the doors of the saloons, he proceeded to that part of the -house in which was situated the apartments that had been assigned to -him; and, sending for his master of the horse--a common officer at -that time, in the houses of the principal French nobility--he directed -him to have everything prepared to quit Paris by daybreak on the -following morning. The earliness of the hour which he thus appointed -was not dictated by any apprehension that Mayenne would endeavour to -impede his departure; but, his resolution being taken, and his opinion -fixed by the most favourable view that could be afforded him of the -party of the League itself, he wished to avoid, as far as possible, -anything like solicitation; and he likewise desired neither to explain -his feelings, nor reason upon his motives, in the conduct he was about -to pursue regarding Eugenie de Menancourt. - -His sensations, indeed, upon the subject were so painful in -themselves, that St. Real did not wish either to speak of or to dwell -upon them. Arguing, with the usual simplicity of his nature, that, -where our wishes and our duties are at variance, it is better to -employ our thoughts in performing the duties, than to give them up to -the hard task of combating the wishes--in which combat they are but -too often defeated--he prepared to occupy all the energies of his mind -in the attempt to serve his country, and to benefit to the utmost of -his power the party he had determined to espouse, leaving his cousin -to pursue his suit towards Eugenie de Menancourt as best he might, but -endeavouring to serve him therein by pointing his efforts to nobler -objects than had hitherto employed them, and by taking care that all -he did should be placed in a fairer light than that in which the -levity and somewhat vain indifference of d'Aubin had hitherto -permitted his own actions to appear. - -Poor St. Real, however, did not know how hard is the task--how -painful, how continual is the struggle, to turn the thoughts of a -feeling and affectionate heart from the objects of its first -attachment, and to occupy, even in the busiest scenes and most -stirring actions wherein other men find employment for their whole -soul, a mind to which love has given its direction elsewhere. His -first experience of what he was but too long to undergo, was made when -he lay down to rest, on the night of which we have just spoken. He -thought to sleep, to taste the same refreshing, undisturbed slumbers -which were so rarely absent from his pillow; but, alas! alas! how -changed were all his sensations. The burning thirst for thoughts -to which he would not give way--the consciousness that he was -resigning for ever that which would have made his happiness through -life--anxieties, which he dared not probe, regarding the happiness of -her he loved--self-reproaches, slight, indeed, but bitter, because -they were the first he had ever had occasion to address to his own -heart--and doubts respecting the conduct and vows of his cousin, which -he now saw with eyes sharpened by love--all planted his pillow thick -with thorns; and he tossed in feverish restlessness upon his uneasy -couch, while slumber and all its wholesome balms were far away. - -The sounds of music and of laughing, which to his saddened heart -rang like the revelry of fiends, came in bursts up to his windows; -and the roll of carriages, the trampling of horses, the shouts of -torch-bearers, and the murmuring hum of a thousand less vociferous -tongues, poured irritatingly upon his ear, and set sleep at defiance. -Gradually, however, those sounds died away, and that space of time -which the citizens of the masterless metropolis called a day, and set -apart for the transaction of a certain portion of intrigue and -faction, levity, sensuality, and bloodshed, came to an end. The bell -of the neighbouring church, unheard during many an hour of turbulence -and noise, struck two, and the whole world around sank into silence, -if not into repose. Still, however, sleep came not to the eyes of St. -Real; and he lay and counted the moments till a new class of sounds -were heard, announcing that the sons of toil were up and busy in the -task of preparing luxuries for the sons of idleness and dissipation. -At length, a faint rosy light was seen to glimmer through the open -window, the indistinct forms of the massive furniture began to stand -out from the gray darkness, and St. Real started up more weary and -fatigued with that one night of restless anxiety than he would have -felt after weeks of watching in the tented field. - -The first task, after dressing himself, was to sit down, and, with the -writing materials that stood at hand, to indite a brief note to the -Duke of Mayenne, apologizing for not waiting to make a more formal -leave-taking. He did not, it is true, announce in distinct terms his -determination of joining his arms to the other supporters of the royal -cause, because he felt it was within the bounds of possibility that -circumstances might yet change his purpose; though, as he left the -matter still open, he thought that bad must be the scene presented by -the camp of the Henrys indeed, if it could make him prefer the craft, -the treachery, and the baseness he had beheld in Paris. In this -respect, while expressing his high opinion of the Duke himself, he did -not scruple to use language and to display sentiments which had -already brought many a venerable and respected head low, amongst the -factions and anarchy of the day; and, having said enough to show which -way his feelings at that moment led him, he descended to the court, -and, mounting his horse, which, with his train, stood prepared for -departure, he bade adieu to the Hotel de Guise. - -The streets of Paris now presented a very different scene from that -which they afforded in either the full life of the risen day, or in -the dregs of the evening. Few were the persons to be seen walking -slowly along in the fresh, clear, unpolluted light of the early -morning; and the long irregular perspective of the antique streets -might be seen unencumbered by the many gaudy vehicles which obstructed -the sight at a later hour. As St. Real rode on towards the suburbs, -one or two patrols of horse, returning from their night watch beyond -the walls, passed him with tired faces and soiled arms; but, although -the numbers that composed his train were sufficient to have justified -some inquiry, yet such was the confused organization of the garrison -of Paris, and of the army of the League in general, that no one asked -his errand, and he passed on uninterrupted to the gates. - -Here, however, he was detained for some minutes, while the drowsy -commander of the guard examined his pass and safe-conduct: and some -suspicious glances were given to the apparel of his followers, who -wore neither the black cross, nor the scarf of the followers of the -League. At the end of about a quarter of an hour, however, he was -suffered to proceed; and, as the position of the royal armies was not -distinctly known to him, he directed his course towards Meudon, at -which place it was certain that a part, at least, of the Huguenot -force had shown itself the day before. Greater watchfulness was now -apparent on the part of the League; and St. Real was challenged and -stopped five or six times within half a mile of the gates of Paris. At -length, a wide green meadow by the banks of the Seine presented -itself; and at the angle of this meadow and the road stood a solitary -sentinel, covered with his cuirass, his _salade_ or iron cap, and -steel plates to defend the thighs. In one hand he carried his long -musket, while with the other he held his coil of match, smouldering -slowly, between the finger and thumb, and only requiring to be blown -to prepare it for immediate action. In the ground, just one pace -before him, was planted the iron-shod stake, which, supporting a sort -of two-pronged fork, afforded a rest for his long and unwieldy weapon -in case of his being called upon to make use of it against any -advancing enemy. Painted in front of his iron cuirass appeared the -black cross of the League; and there could be no doubt that this was -the extreme outpost of the garrison of Paris. It would seem, however, -that he had no order to oppose the passage of persons coming from the -side of the city; for, although he gazed attentively at the young -Marquis and his party as they passed, he asked no questions; and St. -Real advanced along the road skirting the meadow, towards an extensive -building that he saw at the distance of a quarter of a mile before -him, and which bore every sign of being, what it really was, a -religious house belonging to some order of friars. - -Scarcely had he passed half the distance between the sentinel of the -League and the gate of the monastery, when a considerable body of -horsemen drew out from behind some trees at the farther extremity of -the field, and galloped towards the travellers with their lances down -in somewhat menacing array. St. Real immediately halted his men, and -waited calmly for the approach of the strangers, who advanced at full -speed almost till the parties met, without choosing to notice the -peaceable demeanour of the young lord and his attendants. The moment -after, however, they came to a halt; and two or three, riding forward -before the rest, demanded "_Qui vive?_" apparently not half satisfied -with the appearance of St. Real and his attendants. The white scarfs -borne by the leaders of this impetuous party sufficiently indicated to -what army they belonged; and, replying "_Vive le Roi!_" St. Real -produced the pass he had received from Henry III. - -"No game for us, this!" exclaimed he who seemed to be their chief, as -he read the authentic letters of safe-conduct placed before his eyes. -"Good faith, Sir Marquis of St. Real, we thought that Monsieur de -Mayenne had roused himself from his bed full four hours before his -ordinary time, and was sending out parties to take us by surprise, -thinking that we were as laggard and sleepy-headed as himself. -However, we will, if you please, form your escort to the next post, -and beyond that you will find your way easily to the king." - -St. Real signified his assent, and, thus guarded, proceeded onward -towards Meudon, conversing, as he went, with the leaders of the -Huguenot party--for the strangers were followers of the King of -Navarre--and gaining from them some knowledge of the real state and -position of the royal armies. On the side of the two kings he found a -much greater degree of activity and military caution; and, -notwithstanding the presence of the party he had first encountered, he -was not suffered to pass the second outpost without a strict -examination of his letters of safe-conduct, and was afterwards -escorted from post to post by a small body of men-at-arms, until he -had proceeded beyond the quarters of the King of Navarre, and had -fully entered those of Henry III. of France, who had taken up his -abode, by this time, at St. Cloud. Here, again, the discipline seemed -more relaxed; and St. Real was suffered to advance without any further -question, till, at the entrance of the neat little village of St. -Cloud, he perceived a group of persons gathered together round the -door of a house, from which, the moment after, issued forth his cousin -the Count d'Aubin, booted and armed, as if prepared to mount a horse -that was held ready by a groom before the house. - -"The lost one found!" exclaimed D'Aubin, embracing his cousin as soon -as they met; "the lost one found! Why, St. Real, I had even now my -foot in the stirrup to set out once more for Paris, in search of your -fair person. But how has all this happened? Let me hear all; for you -have had to do with the shrewdest heads in France; and his Highness of -Mayenne, with his fair sisters of Montpensier and Guise, are well -worth studying, if it be but to lay out a map of human cunning, in -order to find our way through its tortuous roads in future." - -As St. Real returned the warm embrace of his cousin, there were -sensations in his bosom that he had never felt before. It was not that -any feeling of rivalry had diminished his affection for Philip -d'Aubin, even by a feather's weight; but it was that, notwithstanding -every wish to serve his cousin and promote his suit, he had -unintentionally cast in his way a greater obstacle than ever; and, -although conscious of his own virtue and integrity, he felt as if he -had wronged him. With St. Real the predominant feelings were not, as -with the rest of mankind, concealed or distorted with laborious care, -but on the contrary were always the first to find utterance. "Oh! I -will give you all that history hereafter; but I have something of more -importance to communicate." Thus saying, he entered the house with his -cousin, who led the way to some apartments apparently appropriated to -himself, and demanded, laughing, "What now, Huon? what now? You rustic -nobles see things in the capital with magnifying glasses, and think -many matters of deep consequence, which to us, who see them every day, -are, of course, every day affairs." - -"I trust you may think as lightly of it as you seem to expect," -replied St. Real: "but the matter is this--last night I saw -Mademoiselle de Menancourt." - -"Ha!" exclaimed D'Aubin, instantly roused to attention; "what of -her--where did you see her?" - -"I saw her at the Hotel de Guise," replied St. Real; "supped with her -there, and was near her afterwards, at the great entertainment given, -as I suppose, to the partisans of the League." - -"Indeed!" exclaimed D'Aubin somewhat moodily; "and what saw you then? -Who fluttered round her? Who was favoured in their suit of the great -heiress? To which of his partisans does Mayenne propose to give her -hand? Tell me all you saw!" - -"I saw much," replied St. Real. "I had an opportunity of speaking with -her alone, and was near her the whole evening; so that----" - -"Ay! doubtless, doubtless!" replied his cousin; "and were the favoured -knight, beyond a doubt; and, probably, sweet Madame de Montpensier -encouraged your suit, and Mayenne offered you her hand, if you would -join the League----" - -He paused; and St. Real was silent for a few moments, somewhat -astonished at the accuracy with which his cousin--partly in the random -venturing of passion and ill-humour, partly from a shrewd knowledge of -the actors in the great drama going on at Paris--hit upon the facts as -they had occurred. At length, the Marquis seeing impatience flashing -up in his cousin's eye, replied, "You are right, Philip; such an offer -was made me!" - -"By the Lord! I thought so!" exclaimed D'Aubin. "On my honour, this is -right merry and good! and fair Eugenie de Menancourt, as timid as a -young fawn, and as gentle as a turtle dove, may do more good service -to the armies of the League than a whole regiment of reitters, or -half-a-dozen hot nobles of Provence! Why, the devil incarnate seize -upon the man! he offered her to me in the morning, if I would join the -League, and to you in the evening on the same conditions; and now, -doubtless, Huon, if you choose to turn your horses' heads back to -Paris, and call in your troops from Senlis, put on a black scarf, and -sign the blessed Union, you may to-morrow have the hand of the sweet -heiress of Maine, and become a distinguished leader of the -hypocritical League. Ha! what say you to violating your cousin's -confidence, and gallantly carrying away his promised bride? On my -honour and soul, it were a worthy commencement, and would rank you -high amongst us libertines of the court and the capital." - -"You are angry, Philip," replied St. Real, calmly, though somewhat -sorrowfully; "you are angry, Philip, and without cause. Such is not -the commencement that I intend to make, nor has it ever entered into -my thoughts to do so." - -"But what said Eugenie?" interrupted D'Aubin, fixing his keen eyes -upon him; "what said Eugenie to all this fine arrangement? Doubtless -it pleased her well!" - -"She said nothing to it," replied St. Real, "because she never heard -it; and, in regard to what you would insinuate of myself, my being -here in order to serve the King in arms, is a sufficient reply, I -should think." - -"And are you here for that purpose?" demanded D'Aubin, softening his -tone. "Have you positively decided on joining the royal forces?" - -"Positively," replied St. Real, "if I find nothing here which would -render the King's service perfectly insupportable." - -"Then get ye gone to the court as fast as possible, Huon," exclaimed -D'Aubin, relapsing into the usual levity of tone which was fashionable -at that time, even in speaking of the most serious subjects; "get thee -gone to the court, and see all the vices and horrors it contains; for, -till you have done so, I shall not know what you consider supportable -or not. Yet, stay, Huon," he added, more generous feelings for a -moment resuming their sway, "I doubt you not, my cousin--I know your -nature, St. Real, too well to doubt you; so let not your determination -be influenced by me. I would trust you as fully with Eugenie in Paris, -as if thousands of miles, or hostile armies, or wide-flowing seas, -separated you from her." - -"You might!" replied St. Real; "but, in the present case, my purpose -is fixed. With the private vices of Henry III. or the vices of his -court either, I have nothing to do, at least, as far as regards my -public actions; and, if I see no reason to believe that my joining the -League is absolutely necessary for the salvation of my country, my -allegiance to my King is my first public duty, after the service of my -native land. Yet, hear me a word more, in regard to Eugenie----" - -"Hark, what a noise!" exclaimed D'Aubin, turning towards a window that -looked into the street. "Those dogs of Huguenots are always -quarrelling with us cats of Catholics, and the distance between Meudon -and St. Cloud cannot keep us asunder. Look, Huon, look! they will come -to blows presently! See that fellow in the white scarf, how he is -laying down the law and the Gospel with the bony finger of his right -on the broad hard palm of his left. If he were the renegade, -voluptuous, fiery Luther himself, or the keen, fierce, bloodthirsty -Calvin, he could not argue the matter more eagerly. Now there, I -warrant ye, goes the demonstration of the superiority of the _prźche_ -over the _messe_--the refutation of transubstantiation, and an utter -condemnation of poor purgatory!" - -St. Real had followed unwillingly to the window, wondering not a -little--although his own ear had been caught by the turbulent sounds -in the streets--at the light volatility of his cousin, who could so -easily break off a conversation in which he had already shown such -heat, and which St. Real himself felt but too deeply to be one of -painful interest, in order to gaze upon a squabble between some rude -soldiers. The scene which presented itself, however, soon obtained a -stronger hold of his attention: it was evidently, as D'Aubin had -divined, a quarrel between a small party of the Huguenot soldiers, -who, serving under Henry of Navarre, had been quartered in the -neighbouring town of Meudon, and a body of the Catholics, forming part -of the army of Henry III. who seemed not at all disposed to show much -hospitality in the streets of St. Cloud to their allies with the white -scarfs. According to the usual course of such occurrences, two persons -were more distinguished than the rest by vehemence of manner, loudness -of tone, and fierceness of look; but behind the principal speaker on -the part of the Protestants stood another of the same party, gifted -with that dark and ominous look of silent determination which -betokens, in general, a man more disposed to deeds than words. As the -argument was evidently getting higher and higher, and the dispute was -apparently reaching that point where strong blows are brought in -corroboration of vigorous assertions, St. Real proposed to his cousin -to interpose with that authority which their rank conferred, and which -the number of their retainers, who were standing by enjoying the -scene, enabled them to render effectual. D'Aubin agreed to the -propriety of this proceeding; but he still continued to gaze out, more -amused than affected by what he saw, till at length the more quiet -personage, whom we have described as belonging to the Huguenot party, -stretched forth a long arm from behind his more voluble comrade, and -cut short a very vehement and vigorous tirade on the part of the -Catholic soldier, by dealing him a blow on the side of the head that -instantly stretched him on the bosom of his mother earth. - -Swords and daggers were drawn on all sides in a moment; and St. Real, -waiting for no further question, sprang down the stairs, followed by -his cousin; and, calling upon the attendants to aid him, he interposed -between the contending parties, thrusting his powerful form between -the two principal combatants, and casting them asunder like two -pugnacious curs unwilling to be separated. In the struggle, however, -and ere D'Aubin and the attendants could come to his assistance and -enforce order, St. Real had received a slight cut upon the face, which -speedily stained his collar in blood; and his clothes suffered equally -from dust and dirt, and the profaning fingers of more than one unclean -hand. At length the tumult was appeased; and D'Aubin, after treating -the contending parties to a witty harangue in praise of peace, turned -away with St. Real, saying, "Well, well, Huon, now that you have had -enough of fighting for your morning's meal, get you gone to the King, -or he will be out for the day. He is not at the chateau, but in that -house with the large garden--you can hardly see it as we stand; but, -by the number of people I see gathering in that direction, I should -suppose he was now about to set out. So hasten on, and you will find -me here at your return." - -"My visit to the King may well wait a few hours," replied St Real; -"and I would fain, Philip, conclude with you a conversation which can -never be renewed between us without pain. I have got much to tell you. -But stay!" he exclaimed suddenly, as his eye fell upon the figure of a -Dominican monk, who was slowly proceeding up the road, and had just -passed the spot where he himself stood in conversation with his -cousin; "but stay! I think I know that friar, and, if so, I must to -the King with all speed!" - -Thus speaking, and without waiting for any reply, he made a sign to -his attendants to follow, and hurried on, after the Jacobin, on foot. -The monk was proceeding at a calm quiet pace, with his eyes fixed upon -the ground; and St. Real was by his side in a moment. One glance -showed him the dull heavy features of Brother Clement, who had -tenanted the chamber to his own in the convent of the Jacobins; and -the voices and the jugglery he had seen played off upon the wretched -fanatic, as well as the effect which the whole had produced upon the -object of those artifices, instantly came up before St. Real's mind, -and made him hesitate whether he should not question him in regard to -his errand at St. Cloud. The next moment, however, a gentleman, in -whom St. Real could easily recognise a high officer of the law--as, in -those days, every class and profession had its appropriate garb--came -up, followed by some other people carrying papers, and, stopping the -friar, as a person whom he knew, held a brief conversation with him, -and then walked slowly on by his side towards the dwelling of the -King. St. Real, after a moment's consideration, paused, and beckoning -to the dwarf Bartholo, from whose knowledge of Paris and its -inhabitants he had already derived much information, inquired the name -of the personage now walking forward with the monk. - -"His name is La Guesle," replied the dwarf, drily: "he is the king's -_Procureur Général_." - -Such information was sufficient to remove from the mind of St. Real -some part at least of the apprehensions which he had entertained; but, -nevertheless, there was a lingering suspicion that the Jacobin's -intentions were not all righteous, which made him resolve to inform -the king at once of what he had seen in Paris, and put him upon his -guard against the machinations of his most insidious enemies. With -this view, as he saw that the _Procureur Général_ and his companion -were proceeding exactly in the same direction as himself, he hurried -his pace, and passed them. Making his way onward through the various -groups of soldiers, courtiers, and officers, that were scattered -thickly through the streets of their temporary residence, enjoying the -fine sunshine of the early summer morning, he hastened forward towards -the spot to which his cousin had directed him as the abode of the -king, inquiring as he went which was the exact house amongst the many -splendid buildings that St. Cloud then contained. - -At length the abode of one Hieronimo de Gondi was pointed out to him; -and, entering the court, the walls of which had concealed from his -sight a crowd of guards and attendants at that time constantly waiting -upon the sovereign, he proceeded to the great entrance, and mounted -the steps which led to the first hall. Here his name and business were -instantly demanded, and his reply transmitted through various mouths -to the chambers above. While detained below for the king's answer to -his demand of an audience, he was ushered into a side room, where some -of the superior officers of the court were whiling away their daily -hours of attendance. Some were playing with dice, and some at chess; -but in all there was a fearful effeminacy in dress and demeanour, -which made St. Real shrink from the soft and womanly things with which -he was for the moment brought in contact. He was not destined, -however, to remain long amongst them; for the next moment a page--fair -and soft, and smooth-spoken, with jewels in his ears, and as much -satin and lace upon his slashed doublet of sky-blue silk as would -furnish forth a lady on a court birthday--glided into the room, and -besought the Marquis of St. Real to follow him to the presence of the -king. - -Ascending the broad flight of steps which led to the principal -apartments above, St. Real first passed through the chamber of the -Gascon guards, the same unscrupulous body which had served the monarch -so remorselessly in the assassination of the ambitious but heroic Duke -of Guise. Their harsh and war-worn features, shaggy beards, and -affectedly rough demeanour, offered a strange contrast to the soft and -silken aspect of the rest of the court: but St. Real was soon -introduced to a new, but not less sickening scene of luxurious -effeminacy. Passing through an ante-chamber, in which lounged a number -of creatures such as he had seen below, he was led into the -audience-room prepared for the king. Faint rose-coloured velvet formed -the hangings of the walls, a number of green silk couches were placed -round the room, and the whole air was so burdened with manifold -perfumes, that St. Real, disgusted with all he beheld, felt actually -sick at the compound odour that assailed him as soon as he entered. A -number of personages stood round, dressed in all the gaudy colours of -the rainbow, and each without the slightest spot or stain to be seen -upon his glossy vestments. In the midst of them all sat a man habited, -like themselves, with all the scrupulous care that folly can waste -upon personal appearance. His hands and his face were as white and as -delicate as the satin lining of his cloak, except where on his cheeks -appeared a faint delicate colour, like the hectic blush of a -consumptive girl, but which, in him, was probably rather the effect of -paint than of disease. He was speaking when St. Real entered: but it -was none of his lords, or minions, as they were then called, who was -so honoured at that moment by the effeminate Henry III. On his lap he -held a beautiful worked basket, lined with faint blue satin, and -containing no less than four small dogs, neither of which exceeded in -size a well-fed miller's rat; and to one of these--his favourite pets -and constant companions--he was addressing some tender reproaches for -the crime of having scrambled over the back of one of the others, in -its unceremonious attempts to escape from the delicate dwelling, which -it would willingly have exchanged for a wooden box, and some clean -hay. - -St. Real's bold step in the room, the sound of his heavy boot and -jingling spurs, instantly caught the king's attention; and, looking up -from his basket of dogs, he gazed over the person of the young noble, -with a glance first of surprise, and then, apparently, of horror and -disgust. The silken watchers of the king's countenance instantly -caught its expression, and divined the cause. - -"Good God, sir!" exclaimed one, interposing between St. Real and the -king, as if he feared that the young noble were about to assassinate -the monarch; "good God, sir! is it possible that any one should -present himself before his Majesty in such a plight? Retire, for -Heaven's sake! you had better retire!" - -St. Real laid his hand upon the attendant's breast to push him back -out of his way; but the minion shrank back from the touch of the same -stout doe-skin glove with which the young Marquis had parted the -contending soldiers in the street, as if a dagger had been at his -bosom. - -"I would not have intruded upon your Majesty," said St. Real, "in a -garb stained with blood as this is, had I not had something to -communicate which I thought of immediate importance----" - -"Whatever you have to communicate, sir," interrupted the king, -frowning, "must be told when you have changed your dress: I will hear -nothing at the risk of being suffocated. The blood has nothing to do -with the matter! I have seen more blood, and shed more blood, than you -ever have, or ever will, perhaps; but you bring in with you a -whirlwind of dust, enough to choke up the lungs of any Christian king -upon the face of the earth. Make no reply, sir," he continued, waving -his hand; "make no reply, but leave the room; and when you have -changed your dress, and appear in habiliments more befitting this -place, I will hear what you have to communicate, but not before." - -"As your Majesty pleases," replied St. Real; "but still, let me warn -you of one thing at least----" - -"Of nothing!" exclaimed the king. "Why, the very percussion of your -breath shakes the dust from your cloak, till the whole air is dim. -Away with him! away with him! Nevers, Joyeuse, Epernon, rid me of the -sight of him! But gently, gently! Do not shake the dust off him: 'tis -bad enough to be obliged to ride along the high roads, once every day, -without having the high roads brought into our own audience-chamber." - -There was a determination in the look and demeanour of the young -Marquis of St. Real which augured something in his nature not pleasant -to lay hands upon; and, consequently, the courtiers of the -contemptible monarch took care not to enforce his commands with any -rudeness. Nor was it necessary; for St. Real, finding that any farther -attempt, at that moment, to communicate to the king the apprehensions -he entertained from what he had seen in Paris, would be vain, -retreated from the royal presence without farther question, resolving -immediately to inform his cousin D'Aubin, and beg him to convey the -bare intelligence of danger to the monarch, while he himself changed -his dress, and prepared to give more full and minute information. - -Rejoining his attendants in the court, and looking eagerly round, as -he quitted the royal residence, in order to ascertain whether the monk -were still in sight, St. Real turned his steps back towards the house -where he had found D'Aubin on his arrival at St. Cloud. It was not, -indeed, that he could feel particularly interested in the fate of the -monarch whom he had just seen, or that he thought the death of such a -degraded being would be, at any other period, much to be regretted in -France; but the young lord, acting upon general principles which -accidental circumstances never greatly modified, felt it his bounden -duty to prevent, if possible, a meditated crime; and, even had it not -been so, would have been extremely desirous of preserving the life of -the reigning sovereign, at a moment when political and religious -factions, personal enmities, and contending interests, convulsed the -realm, and required no new brand of discord to bring down sorrows, -desolation, and ruin, upon the people, the country, and the state. - -Whichever way St. Real turned his eyes, however, various groups of -persons loitering about, without any apparent object, interrupted his -view ere it could penetrate many yards. Amongst them the figure of the -Jacobin was not to be seen; and, mounting his horse, which had been -led after him, he proceeded as fast as possible to the dwelling in -which his cousin had taken up his quarters. - -He found D'Aubin surrounded by a large party of the gay nobility of -Paris; and levity and merriment had so completely taken possession of -every one present, that St. Real could obtain no attention for the -serious matter he had to communicate. Even his cousin himself, whom he -knew to be full of strong and fiery passions, and whom he had seen -that very morning moved by no light emotions, appeared now to have -given himself up entirely to the idlest spirit of gaiety; so that the -only effect produced by the tale which the young nobleman had to tell -was loud laughter at the repulse he had met with from the monarch's -presence, and advice to suffer Henry to deal with his friend the friar -as best he might. - -Somewhat offended, and still more grieved, at his cousin's conduct, -St. Real quitted him, promising to rejoin him in the course of the -day; and, betaking himself to the small rooms, which were the only -ones he could find unoccupied in either of the two _auberges_ that -St. Cloud at that time boasted, he hastily put off his riding-suit, -removed the traces of travel and contention from his person, and then, -dressed more in accordance with the courtly foppery of a great capital -than the simplicity which he had expected to find in a camp, he -returned to the temporary dwelling of the king, bent upon executing -his own right purposes, whoever might laugh or sneer. Henry had by -this time, it would seem, considered the impolicy of alienating so -powerful a subject, at a moment when the throne so much needed -support; and St. Real found a page waiting for him in the vestibule, -charged, on his return, to deliver a sort of half apology for the -treatment he had met with, and to conduct him immediately to the royal -presence. - -Led through the same rooms, St. Real entered the audience-chamber, -which was still tenanted by the same personages, with the exception of -the king himself, whose voice was heard in a cabinet beyond. The page, -however, instantly proceeded to the door, and throwing it open, -announced St. Real's return. - -"We will speak with him presently," replied Henry, aloud: but the -sight which met St. Real's eyes through the open door made him once -more cast away all ceremony, notwithstanding his rebuke he had -received in the morning. On the right of the monarch stood La Guesle, -the _Procureur Général_, while at the king's feet knelt the very -Jacobin friar whom St. Real had seen in conversation with that officer -about half an hour before. The monk seemed in the act of presenting a -letter; but though that action, and his whole demeanour, appeared -perfectly pacific, yet St. Real was convinced, from his previous -knowledge, that the ultimate designs of the Jacobin must be evil; and -striding across the audience-hall with the purpose of interposing, he -had nearly reached the door of the cabinet, when one of the nobles in -attendance stopped him for an instant, attempting to explain to him -that the King would summon him when he thought fit. - -"Of course, of course!" replied St. Real, "but the King is in danger. -See, see!" And at the same moment the Dominican, as he knelt, lifted -his arm and struck the monarch, what appeared to be merely a blow of -his clenched hand. - -The King staggered back, however, exclaiming, "He has killed me!" And -drawing from his side the long sharp knife which the Jacobin had left -in the wound, he struck the assassin on the head as he was -endeavouring to rise. Almost at the same time, La Guesle, drawing; his -sword, passed it through the monk's body; and the nobleman, who had so -ill-timedly stopped the advance of St. Real, sprang forward, crying, -"The Monk has killed his Majesty;" and while the murderer was already -falling under the blows of the King and La Guesle, drove his dagger -into his throat and put a period to his existence. The other officers -in attendance rushed into the cabinet in tumult and fury, and with an -indecent excess of rage, cast the dead body of the Jacobin out of the -window into the court. - -There is no describing the terror, confusion, and despair, into which -the large body of courtiers, interested deeply in the life of their -master, were thrown by the event that had just occurred; but Henry -himself, at that awful moment, recalled all the courage and -self-possession for which he had been distinguished in his early -years, and showed himself far more tranquil and undisturbed than any -of the party. - -"Send for a surgeon," he said, sitting down and pressing one hand upon -the wound, while with the other he waved back those who were crowding -round him. "La Guesle, you have done wrong to kill the wretch. We -might have learned who were his instigators; but let the room be -cleared. Monsieur de St. Real, I thought to have spoken with you, but -it is impossible now. You said you had something to communicate; but -if I recover, it must be told hereafter; if I die, it must be told to -my successor." - -"God forbid your Majesty should die at this moment," replied St. Real, -whose intended communication was now rendered useless. "I trust that -your wound will not prove serious." - -"I trust not," replied the King; "but no one can say what, or how -soon, may be the termination. Although I am inclined to think that the -wound is not dangerous, yet in this body there may be but half an hour -of life. Therefore remember, lords and gentlemen of France here -present, that, should death be the result of this morning's bad work, -Henry of Navarre is your lawful king! From the moment that my lips -cease to breathe he is your king according to every principle of right -and justice: the fundamental laws of the French monarchy make him so, -and no power on earth can absolve you of your duty towards him. I only -raise my voice to point out to my subjects what will be their duty -when I am dead. Remember that this is my last injunction: but here -come the surgeons; and now, once more, I say, let the room be -cleared." - -The monarch's orders were instantly obeyed, and the cabinet, in which -he had received his wound, was accordingly abandoned by all but the -surgeons and his immediate personal attendants. The whole party, -however, lingered in the audience chamber, and in the ante-room -adjoining, breaking into separate groups, and each speaking low, but -eagerly, on the event that had occurred, and the consequences likely -to ensue. As St. Real was not personally known to any one present, he -was, of course, thrown out of all these small circles, and was -proceeding through the rooms, in order to join his attendants and make -his escape from the bustle, confusion, and tumult which were beginning -to spread rapidly through the royal household, when a stout, -plainly-dressed, middle-aged man, whom he had not particularly noticed -in the crowd, laid his hand upon his arm, saying, "I think I heard -your name mentioned as Monsieur de St. Real." - -"The same," replied St. Real, bowing. "What are your commands?" - -"My name is De Sancy," replied the other: "an old acquaintance of your -father's. I would speak a word with you, but not here." Thus saying, -he led St. Real on till they reached the court, where all was in the -same state of confusion which reigned above--the gates closed, and no -one suffered to go out. At the appearance of Monsieur de Sancy, -however, the guards presented arms, and the porter threw open the -_grille_ for him and his companion to pass. A word, on his part, -obtained the same facility for his own immediate followers, and for -those of St. Real; and walking on foot down the road, while their -horses followed, De Sancy spoke briefly to his young companion of what -had occurred. - -"The king will die," he said. "I see it in his countenance; and France -will be thrown into a state of greater turbulence than ever. There is -but one way to save her, Monsieur de St. Real; and, if you inherit -your father's heart and principles, you will not hesitate to join me -in following it." - -"May I ask you," demanded St. Real, "what is the way to which you -allude?" - -"I mean," replied De Sancy, "boldness, decision, preparation, on the -part of the friends of good order. You will see, Monsieur de St. Real, -that as soon as the king is dead, the bonds which keep all these -forces together will be suddenly dissolved. The greater part of the -leaders will think all ties of honesty, loyalty, and patriotism at an -end; and almost all will set themselves up for sale to the highest -bidder, while many will join that party for which they have already a -hankering. I heard, some time ago, that you were expected here, and I -learned that you have a considerable body of troops lying near Senlis. -Now tell me, supposing that the king were dead, in what light would -you look upon Henry, King of Navarre?" - -"As the legitimate successor to the crown," answered St. Real, "and as -my rightful sovereign!" - -"Then would you be as well contented to fight against the League under -a Huguenot sovereign," demanded De Sancy, "as under the Catholic -monarch, who has just met with such a fitting reward for his love of -priests and friars?" - -"A thousand times better," replied St. Real, "if that sovereign be -Henry of Navarre, my father's friend and my own--honest and noble, if -ever man was, and loving his country and his people better than -himself." - -"If such, then, be your opinions, Monsieur de St. Real," replied De -Sancy, laying his hand familiarly on his shoulder--"if such be your -opinions, without a word more let us mount our horses, and ride over -together to Meudon, to bear to the Bearnois, as they call him, the -first tidings of all that has happened here, and to promise him our -unbought support in case of need. I bring with me nearly three -thousand sturdy Swiss; and you, I hear, near a thousand hardy -Frenchmen. What say you? shall we go?" - -Great emergencies make short oratory. "With all my heart," replied St. -Real, who, however brief had been the explanation, understood De -Sancy's views and objects as well as if he had spoken a volume; "with -all my heart!" he replied, "and we will ride quick." - -Their horses were beckoned up; each cavalier sprang into the saddle; -and, after a few words of direction and command to some of their -attendants on either part, they galloped off towards Meudon as fast as -they could go. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -Neither St. Real nor his companion spoke much as they advanced towards -Meudon. The rapid pace at which they proceeded, and the still more -rapid thoughts that were passing in the mind of each, left little room -for conversation. Each, however, seemed so instinctively to appreciate -the character of the other, that the few words which did occasionally -pass between them conveyed far more than much longer communication -might have accomplished between persons whose ideas flowed in a less -direct and straightforward channel. So rapidly did their horses bear -them forward indeed, that but a few minutes elapsed ere they beheld -the pleasant little upland supporting the village in which the witty -but licentious Rabelais poured forth the biting and sarcastic torrent -of satire that, however ill understood by after ages, has rendered his -name immortal; and in which also he exercised all those clerical -functions that were far less adapted to the character of his mind. - -Coming from the side of St. Cloud, and bearing about his person those -conventional signs which were understood to indicate an officer of the -royalist party, Monsieur de Sancy, accompanied by his young companion, -was permitted to go forward, with scarcely any interruption almost to -the gates of the old chateau in which Henry of Navarre had fixed his -head-quarters. Here, however, they were challenged by the sentinels; -but, giving the word, they passed on, and meeting with an inferior -officer attached to the prince, inquired if he had yet gone forth. - -"More than an hour," was the reply; "but he may certainly be found -with the advance guard at the _Pré aux Clercs_." - -Without farther question, and somewhat mortified at the loss of time, -De Sancy and St. Real turned their horses' heads, and at some risk -galloped down the steep descent; nor pulled a bridle rein till they -reached the large open plain called the _Pré aux Clercs_, which at -this time offered a singular and not unpicturesque exhibition. From -the spot where the road which they followed entered the plain, the -country lay flat and unvaried to the very suburbs of the city of -Paris, which rose behind, forming a dense back-ground of grey -buildings, towering up one beyond another in the misty light of a -summer's day. The open ground between was not exactly covered with -multitudes, but was living with a hundred groups of gay and glittering -cavaliers; while two strong bodies of infantry, and a squadron of -horse, covered the several roads which led from that part of Paris to -Meudon and St. Cloud. The groups of horsemen of which we have spoken, -armed at all points, and, in general, bearing the old knightly -lance--some decorated with the colours of the League, some displaying -those of the Catholic Royalists, and some carrying the white scarfs -and sword-knots of the Huguenots--were seen, now wheeling about the -plain, endeavouring to gain the vantage ground of a party of -opponents; now standing still, waiting in firm ranks the attack of a -body of the enemy; now hurled in impetuous charge against the foe, and -mingling in brief but desperate struggle; with the armour, and the -pennons, and the scarfs, and the rich caparisons, glancing in and out -of the clouds of dust that covered them. Every now and then, also, -when any of the Leaguers advanced too near, the arquebusiers, who -covered the roads, would keep up upon them a rolling fire from their -levelled pieces; and occasionally some of the batteries erected for -the defence of the suburbs would pour forth flame and thunder upon the -position of the Huguenot infantry, though with but little effect. - -About a hundred yards in advance of the foot, upon one of the few -slight rises which the plain afforded, appeared a group, consisting of -about twenty horsemen, principally distinguished by the Huguenot -scarf, who took no further part in the skirmishes which were going on -than by every now and then detaching a messenger from their body, -apparently to bear directions or commands to other parts of the field. -At the head of this group, armed at all points except the head, -appeared Henry, King of Navarre, with his fine, but strong-marked -features, full of animation and excitement from the scene before him. -St. Real was the first who remarked his position; and, pointing it out -to Monsieur de Sancy, paused only till they had ordered their -attendants to remain near the body of infantry, and then spurred on -with his companion to the spot where the monarch was watching the -progress of the morning's skirmish--an amusement of which he rarely -deprived his soldiery. Turning round as they came up, he welcomed St. -Real with a look of surprise and satisfaction, and greeted De Sancy -with a smile. - -"This is unexpected and gladsome, my good young friend," he said, -grasping St. Real's hand. "I heard you were in Paris; and, though your -cousin declared you would certainly visit us ere you decided, yet, -good faith! I thought the cunning of the League would be too much for -you." - -"It was, I believe, too much for themselves, your Majesty," replied -St. Real; "for I am not only here, but purpose to remain. We have, -however, something of more importance to tell your Majesty, if you -will give us your ear for one moment." - -"Instantly," replied the king; and then turning to some of those -behind him, he pointed with his leading-staff to one of the groups of -skirmishers, exclaiming, "Some one ride in there, and bring out Rosny! -The lad is mad with sorrow for the loss of his wife. Ventre Saint -Gris! 'Tis a strange thing that what would make one man mad for joy, -should make another man mad for grief! He will get himself killed now, -in order to go to heaven after his wife; while there are many men who -would almost to the other place, to get out of the way of theirs. But -ride in, ride in, and bring him out--tell him I want him! Now, St. -Real! now, Monsieur de Sancy! I am for you!" - -Thus speaking, he rode on twenty or thirty paces in advance of his -attendants, and looked first to St. Real, and then to De Sancy, as if -requiring them to give him their tidings. The latter then spoke: "We -have to communicate to your Majesty," he said, "an event that has -occurred at St. Cloud, and which may be productive of great and -sorrowful results--which pray God avert!" - -"Amen!" cried Henry; "but what is it, what is it?" - -"This, my lord," replied de Sancy. "About an hour ago, while Monsieur -de St. Real and myself were both in the audience-chamber of his -Majesty, the king was wounded severely by a Dominican friar, and I -have many fears that the result will be fatal." - -Henry made no reply, but gazed upon Monsieur de Sancy's face with a -look of anxiety and horror. "This is ruin indeed!" he exclaimed--"to -be killed at the very moment that our united arms had so nearly seated -him securely on the throne! This is ruin indeed!" - -"I trust not, your Majesty," replied St. Real. "First, the king is not -yet dead, and may recover; and next, even should he die, you, my lord, -have not only a righteous cause to support you, but a more fair -renown. You would then be as much king of France as he is now, and -many a subject who serves him unwillingly will draw his sword with joy -for you." - -"At all events, my lord," said De Sancy, "whatever may be the conduct -of others, and whatever may be the result of this most lamentable -affair, your Majesty will find that two at least of the French nobles, -without consulting or considering any other interest but that of their -country, will be ready, should fate place the crown of France upon -your head, to serve your Majesty with their whole heart and soul. I, -for my part, engage at once to bring over the Swiss to your Majesty's -service; and, if I have understood him right, Monsieur de St. Real -here present will immediately move his troops from Senlis to your -support." - -"Without a moment's hesitation," added St. Real; "and if I have -hitherto even entertained a scruple in regard to joining the royal -forces, that scruple would not exist after your Majesty's accession to -the throne." - -"Thank you, thank you, my friends!" exclaimed Henry, "this is noble! -This is generous! But still let us hope that the calamity will be -averted, which, by the death of the king, would cast amongst us a -fresh ball of discord, when so many already exist. Still it is -necessary for me to be prepared; but while I speed to St. Cloud, in -order to learn, as far as possible, what is proceeding there, let me -beg you, my friends, to converse over the matter with those you can -trust, and ascertain upon whom I may rely--who are likely to be -doubtful friends, and who will prove open enemies." - -St. Real and his companion promised obedience; and the king, after -speaking a few moments with some of the gentlemen of his train, turned -his horse's head towards St. Cloud, and galloped off. De Sancy and St. -Real returned more leisurely, conversing over the event that had -occurred, and its probable results. - -"You, Monsieur de Sancy, and the King of Navarre also, seem to -apprehend much more danger from the death of the king," said St. Real, -"than I can conceive likely to accrue. Far be it from me to speak evil -of a man who, even now, may be dying; yet who can doubt that in -virtues as a man, and in high qualities as a sovereign, the monarch -who has just left us is as superior to him who now reigns in France as -light is to darkness? As a military leader, too, his renown is justly -among the first in Europe; and with the sole command of the army, -which is now divided, the affection of all that is noble and good in -the land, and the warm co-operation of many of those who have held -aloof from the present sovereign, he would surely be able to -accomplish far more towards reducing the land to a state of -tranquillity and subordination, than a king who is not only hated but -despised." - -De Sancy shook his head, with a somewhat melancholy smile, at -calculations made upon grounds so very different from the motives -which actuated the generality of men in the disorganized land wherein -they lived. - -"If every one were Monsieur de St. Real," he answered, "if every -one--I do not mean in France, but even in this camp and army--were -actuated by the same pure and patriotic feelings as yourself, your -calculations would be undoubtedly right, and the extinction of the -line of Valois would be the signal for tranquillity and happiness to -resume their place in our distracted land. But the men that we see -around us are divided into many classes, and actuated by many motives. -The Huguenots have among them one principle of action--I mean -religious fanaticism. But, taking all the rest of the united armies, I -suppose there are not ten men of rank amongst us who have any general -principle whatsover." - -"You give a sad picture of our countrymen, Monsieur de Sancy," replied -St. Real; "but if your view be correct, how happen such discordant -elements to have adhered so long?" - -"From causes as numerous," replied De Sancy, "as the men themselves. -Some have adhered to the king out of gratitude for favours conferred, -and from a knowledge that their fortune, almost their very existence -itself, depended upon that monarch. Such are the minions, the -favourites, the priests. Others again, of a nobler nature, have -remained attached to the same party equally from gratitude for favours -conferred, but without entertaining any further hopes from, or being -bound by any tie of interest to, the king. Such is the Duke of -Epernon, and several more. Others, again, serve the monarch because -their own dignity and power are connected by various ties to his. Such -are the princes of the blood. An immense number follow him only -because, seeing the country split into factions, and knowing that they -must attach themselves to some party, they judge that they can obtain -most from the court; and, at all events, can sell themselves to the -League hereafter, in case they find their first expectations -disappointed. Many, too, have some individual object in view, which -they may obtain from the king, but could not obtain from the League; -and many serve the monarch from personal hatred to some one in the -opposite camp. Monsieur de St. Real, I could go on for an hour, and -yet leave half the motives unreckoned by which men of different -parties are actuated in every civil strife. All these motives are at -work amongst us; and patriotism, depend upon it, comes in for but a -very small share, when there are so many other greedy passions to -divide with her the hearts of the multitude." - -St. Real was silent for a few moments, and thoughtful too; for in the -picture of the manifold hues and shades of human baseness thus -presented to his sight, there was something very painful to a mind -accustomed to view the world in a brighter light. After having -considered for a short time, however, letting his mind roam to more -general thoughts, he returned to the immediate matter of their -conversation. "I am sorry to hear," he said, "that such is the -composition of an army from which I had hoped better things. But tell -me, Monsieur de Sancy, will not the same motives which have hitherto -bound them to the present king bind them also to his successor?" - -"By no means," replied De Sancy. "In the first place, the difference -of religion will be a great objection to many, and an excellent -pretext to more. A thousand to one all the zealous Catholics will -abandon the heretic monarch at once. Those who personally love him -will seek to make him change his religion; those who love him not will -leave him without any question. All who are already doubtful will -seize this favourable opportunity of going over to the League. All who -are serving upon interested motives will demand place, preferment, or -promise, as the price of their future assistance. Of these--and I am -sorry to say that at least one half of the royal camp is composed of -such--of these there will be a general market--a buying and selling, -as in the halls of Paris; and if the king cannot outbid the League, -they will go over together." - -"Well, let them go," cried St. Real. "By Heaven! Monsieur de Sancy, I -hold that we shall be better without such false and doubtful allies. -Our swords will strike more firmly, our confidence in ourselves and in -each other will be redoubled, when the army is purified from such a -nest of mercenary villains." - -"Ah! my young friend," replied De Sancy, "you may make a good soldier; -but you are not yet fit for a politician in this bad world of ours. -Call them by some softer name, too, than mercenary villains," he -added, with a laugh; "for, till you see the event, you do not know -whom you may find amongst them." - -St. Real was silent; for his mind was not without some shade of doubt -as to what would be the conduct of his own cousin in the event of the -king's death breaking asunder all those ties which, for the time, -united the incoherent parts of the royalist army together. However -much St. Real might love the Count d'Aubin, and however much he might -strive to conceal from himself the faults and failings which -disfigured his character, he could not help experiencing a vague -internal conviction that his actions were more the effect of impulse -than of principle, and that there was not sufficient firmness in his -character to restrain him from following where his passions or his -interests led him, if to the path which he thus chose no very signal -disgrace was attached in the eyes of the world. - -He was silent then, and a few minutes more brought them back to St. -Cloud, which exhibited all the usual marks of a small place in which -some great event has happened. The eager faces; the gliding up and -down of important-looking persons; the whispering groups at every -corner, and at every house-door; the loud-tongued politicians, -demonstrating to their little assemblage of hearers the events that -were to follow, or the events that were past; and here and there the -mercenary soldier, sauntering indifferently through the streets, and -caring not who died, or who survived, provided that his pay was sure, -and that the blessed trade of war was not brought to an untimely end. - -Monsieur de Sancy and St. Real drew up their horses at the first group -of respectable persons they met with, and demanded news of the king. -The reply was favourable: "the monarch was better," the people said; -"the surgeons apprehended no evil; and the consequences of the crime -had fallen upon the head of him who perpetrated it." - -After receiving this answer, St. Real and De Sancy separated, each -well pleased with the other, and promising mutually to meet again -before night, whatever might be the result of the events which had -brought them first together. - -St. Real then directed his course up the road towards the small -_auberge_, in which he had hired the only apartments that on his first -arrival were to be found vacant in the village, and at which he had -left a part of his attendants to prepare for his return. The door of -the inn, like that of every other house in the place, was surrounded -by its own little group, discussing the events of the time; and as St. -Real approached, he distinguished amongst the crowd his dwarf page -Bartholo, together with the handsome Italian boy, who had been left in -his service by Henry of Navarre. The young marquis--whose mind was not -of that indifferent cast which looks with philosophical coolness upon -the dangers or discomforts of every person except its own particular -proprietor--had been not a little anxious for the fate of the fair -delicate youth amidst the troubles and perils of the capital and its -environs, and was in no slight degree rejoiced to see him in safety in -a spot where he could afford him protection. - -Leonard de Monte sprang forward as soon as he beheld his lord, and -welcomed him on his arrival, with all that peculiar grace which we -have before had occasion to notice in his demeanour. There was -something in his manner that expressed a willingness to serve and to -obey; but, at the same time, it appeared to be the willingness of a -free and generous mind to perform that which depended solely upon its -own volition. There was a dignity withal in his tone and demeanour, -that made his obedience seem a condescension rather than a duty; and -yet, as we have said, it was all so cheerfully done, that St. Real, -although he felt more as if he were speaking to a friend or a younger -brother, than to one who was bound to obey, nevertheless did not feel -the difference disagreeable, but rather looked with more interest upon -a person whose demeanour was so superior to that of others in his -station. - -"I have had some fears for you, my good boy," said St. Real, "since I -heard that you had come hither to seek me." - -"Oh, never fear for me, sir!" replied the youth, speaking with that -confidence in his own fortune, which is one of the many happy deceits -whereby the human heart beguiles itself to forget the weariness, and -the difficulties, and the dangers of the long and perilous path of -life; "oh, never fear for me, sir! In my short day, I have passed -through so many scenes, where others have found every sort of danger -and tribulation, without receiving so much as a scratch of my hand, -that I begin to believe myself enchanted against peril: besides, I had -the two stout fellows you gave me to accompany me from Maine; and if I -had met with any danger, I should have left them to fight it out, and -have slipped away, finding safety under cover of my littleness." - -"Well, well, we must not try your fortune too far, my good Leonard," -replied the young noble. "But come hither with me, Bartholo, seek me -wherewithal to write; and bid Martin and Paul hold themselves ready to -set out in half an hour to Senlis. Have you seen the Count d'Aubin?" - -"I saw him not half an hour ago," replied Leonard de Monte, ere the -dwarf could answer. "He was riding forth with a gay company to the -_Pré aux Clercs_." - -"That is unfortunate!" observed St. Real; "I would fain have spoken -with him. But hark! there is the drum beating to arms, and the -clarions sounding a march! See what that may mean, Leonard." - -The boy sped away quickly; and during his absence St. Real proceeded -to his own apartments, and wrote to the officer whom he had left in -command of his troops near Senlis, directing him, in as few words as -possible, to advance without loss of time to the distance of half a -march from the royal army. Ere he had concluded, Leonard de Monte -returned, and, in reply to St. Real's eager question of what news, -informed him, that an order had just been given out to put the royal -forces under arms, as it was supposed that those who had instigated -the attempt at assassination, not knowing that it had failed, would -endeavour to take advantage of the confusion they expected to follow -its success amongst the royalists. - -"A wise precaution!" said St. Real--"a wise precaution, marking that -Henry of Navarre is in the camp, even if one did not know it from -other circumstances. Now, tell me, Leonard," he continued, after -having sealed and despatched his letter, "how long have you been -here?" - -"I reached Paris some five days since," replied the boy, "and waited -two days there, in hopes of your coming; but, finding that you did not -arrive, I grew anxious, knowing that there are wily men and -unscrupulous of all parties in these places. Then, when you did not -appear the third day, I set off hither to see whether you had been -delayed against your will at the king's quarters; and ever since then -I have been coming and going between the camp and the city of Paris, -till I learned this morning that you were here." - -"But were you never stopped at the outposts?" demanded St. Real; "your -pass extended only to the capital?" - -"Oh, no!" replied the boy, in a gay tone; "I passed and repassed as -often as I liked, and will do it again whensoever it pleases me. I -have the secret of making myself invisible; and they must be sharper -eyes than either those of the League or of the Huguenots that will spy -me out to stop me as I go." - -"Indeed!" said St. Real: "that were a secret worth knowing." - -"Easy to learn, but not so easy to practise," answered the boy. "I had -first to consider the sentry as I came up to him; then, if I found him -a Huguenot Gascon, to stop a quarter of an hour to listen to all the -great exploits he had performed at Montcontour, Jarnac, or any other -place; then--seeming to believe the whole--to tell him as great a lie -as any that he told me, vowing that I was the truant son of some -Huguenot lord, going back to hear Du Plessis Mornay preach against the -Pope of Rome; and thus might I pass by without farther question. If, -on the contrary, it were a royalist, I vowed I was King Henry's new -page, and talked about Monsieur de Biron, and the good Duke of -Epernon. If it were a Swiss, I boldly said, 'What is your price?' put -the crowns in his hands, and walked on. And when I came back to the -sentinels of the League, I had but to throw this toy over my -shoulders," he continued, drawing a black-and-green scarf from the -bosom of his vest, which, according to the custom of those days, -was made very large and full, and often served the purpose of a -pocket--"I had only to throw this toy over my shoulders, and swear by -the holy mass that I had gone out to kill the king, and would have -done it, too, if I had not, by mischance, trod on the toes of one of -his Polish puppies, and been turned out of the ante-room for that -grave offence." - -St. Real laughed. "You are a brave boy," he said, "and seem to know -these people thoroughly--perhaps better than I do." - -"Perhaps I may," replied the youth: "but still, call me not a brave -boy, for I am not; on the contrary, I am as arrant a coward as ever -lived; so, if you intend to take me with you into a pitched battle, or -even a skirmish, or so much as the siege of a town, you are very much -mistaken, for I shall certainly lag behind." - -"You jest," said St. Real, smiling; "for, though you are too young to -be led into battles, or to sieges either, yet you are one of those -whereof, some day, men may make good soldiers." - -"Not I," answered the boy, seriously, and with a sigh; "not I, my -lord!--I have a vow against it. Faith, I think that heretic Du Plessis -Mornay has converted even me; and I hold, that for hundreds of honest -men to shed each other's blood, for the sake of making their favourite -sit in a great ivory chair, wear a gilt cap with a tassel, and call -himself king, is not only a folly, but a madness, and not only a -madness, but a crime. Be not offended, my lord," he added, seeing a -slight cloud come over St. Real's brow, as he listened to doctrines -very different from those which his own bold and chivalrous heart -entertained; "be not offended, nor doubt me either; for you may well -rest sure that, should danger threaten you, or misfortune overtake -you, when I am your follower, this heart--though not so bold as a -falcon's--would find courage for the time; this hand--though not so -strong as a giant's--should do its best to defend or aid you." - -"I believe you in that, at least, my good Leonard," replied St. Real; -"yet, nevertheless, I have always held that life is valueless without -honour, and that the drops of our heart's best blood can never be -weighed against the service of our country, our king, or our friend. -However, you are not my sworn soldier, so I shall not try you; and, to -speak of matters whereon we shall better agree, tell me--for, amongst -all your wanderings, you must have heard--how go men's opinions upon -the events that are taking place here?" - -"Opinions!" cried the youth. "They go, my lord, as the waves of the -sea. Looked at from a distance, and at first sight, they seem -innumerable, and all distinct one from the other; but when one -examines a little more closely, they are found to be nothing but one -great flow of the same things, following the first that comes forward -and dashes upon the shore. I know not well what the word _opinion_ -used to mean in the days of old, but now, I know it means the portrait -of every man's selfishness, painted as he likes it to appear. One man -has a strong desire to be governor of Dijon, and he represents it -under the form of a sincere admiration of the Catholic faith; another -wishes to be made marechal of France, and he displays his wish under a -full approbation of the murder of the Guises." - -"It is wonderful," said St. Real, with a smile, "how soon, in the camp -and in the court, the wisdom of the brow of sixty years finds its way -down to the curly head of sixteen! Do you know, Leonard, I have just -heard this morning from Monsieur de Sancy the same fine sarcastic -character of the good folks around me that you have given me now?" - -"Then you have heard the truth from two people in one day," replied -the boy gravely. "It is worth marking with white chalk! and, though -you think that I ape the sententiousness of wiser persons than myself, -you will find, that one who has lived amongst these scenes from his -earliest years knows the characters that appear in the mystery as well -as one of themselves. At all events, my lord, hope not to find Spartan -virtues even in your dearest friend; or, if he do possess such jewels -as patriotism, and firmness, and integrity, happy--thrice and fully -happy, is he in this place; for nothing is so saleable here as virtue -and a tolerably good reputation." - -"Spartan virtue in my dearest friend!" said St. Real, repeating the -words on which the youth had laid the strongest emphasis. "What mean -you by that, Leonard? Tell me, are you frank and honest? If so, you -have some meaning! Now, make it a plain one!" - -The boy coloured a good deal, and, for a moment, seemed struggling -between two emotions; but at length he replied, "I am frank and -honest, sir, and I will make my meaning plain, feeling sure that you -will not let my candour hurt me. When I spoke as I did speak, I -thought of your noble cousin; for it is the common report of camp and -city, that a large dower, and a lady's unwilling hand, will soon -convert the Count d'Aubin from a bold Royalist to a zealous Leaguer." - -It was now St. Real's turn to feel troubled, and the blood -irrepressibly mounted to his cheek. "I trust that the camp and the -city are both mistaken," he replied, at length; "and that Philip -d'Aubin, if he do change his party, which may, perchance, happen, will -have nobler motives to assign than any selfish advantages. One thing, -however, is certain, no lady's _unwilling_ hand can be the object, for -no man will or can force her inclination." - -The boy shrugged his shoulders. "These are times, sir," he replied, -"when men can do anything; but, nevertheless----" - -Ere he could finish his sentence, the door of the little saloon in -which he stood was thrown quickly open; and, as so often occurs, the -very object of the conversation which had just passed appeared, and -put an end to any farther observations. The boy, indeed, coloured -deeply, and glided out of the room; but St. Real, whose consciousness -of upright purpose and integrity of heart had restored his calmness -and confidence in himself, turned to greet his cousin kindly, and -prepared to speak with him upon the great events of the day, avoiding, -as far as possible, those subjects which might renew any painful -feelings between them. "I heard that you had gone to the _Prés aux -Clercs_," he said, looking at his cousin's dusty garb; "but you are -not armed, I see." - -"Oh, that matters not!" answered D'Aubin; "it is as well sometimes to -show these gentlemen of the League that, in a velvet pourpoint and -silken hose, we can overthrow their best cavaliers, clothed from head -to heel in good hard iron. I had not time to arm, and therefore ran -two lances in my jerkin, having promised to give a course to Duverne -and Maubeuge. So the king is wounded, they say! You have heard of it, -of course. Should he die now, Huon--should he die, 'twould make a -great difference in men's fates." - -"I do not see why or how," replied St. Real; and then--not remarking -that his cousin, whose very speech had been rambling and unconnected, -suffered his mind to wander inattentive to what any one else -said--went on to give all his reasons for thinking that the death of -Henry III. should make no earthly change in the conduct of any -honourable man hitherto attached to the royal cause. - -"Huon!" interrupted D'Aubin, at length, "I have been thinking over -what passed between us this morning, and I have come to crave a boon -of you. Your safe-conduct from Mayenne is not yet near its end; and I -would fain have you make one more journey to Paris. As I said before, -I would trust you with aught on earth, such is my confidence in your -honour; and you have great influence with Eugenie de Menancourt. She -esteems and respects you, which is a very different thing from love, -you know; no woman loves a man that she respects----" - -"Nay, nay, nay, Philip!" said St. Real, somewhat sickened with his -cousin's conduct, and yet pained to remark the evident anxiety and -distress which D'Aubin strove in vain to cover under a tone, half -jest, half earnest. "Nay, nay, Philip! speak not thus of those who -form more than one half of man's happiness or misery--speak not thus -if you would ever win the love of those whose love is worth -possessing." - -"Pshaw, Huon! you know them not!" replied the Count. "Respect and -esteem may be the foundation of man's love for woman, but not of -woman's love for man. Fear, jealousy, revenge, scorn, even hate -itself, are nearer roads to woman's love than respect and esteem. You -may disappoint her wishes, contradict her opinions, insult her -understanding, pain her heart, ay, even cross her caprices! and yet -win her love, if you will but pique her vanity. But a truce to such -dissertations. Mark me, Huon! I think you love me, and wish me well; -and I tell you sincerely, it imports much and deeply to my peace and -comfort, that Eugenie de Menancourt should yield me a willing -consent." - -"Not, I trust, from any pecuniary consideration," said St. Real, who -entertained some vague suspicions that his cousin had outstepped even -his princely revenues in the gay and thoughtless course he had pursued -for many a year. "If so, speak at once, Philip, for you know the -extent of my resources; and you likewise know, I trust, that those -resources are your own, when you choose to command them." - -"No, no, Huon!" replied the Count, while his brow and cheek grew as -red as fire. "No, no! I thank you for your kindness, good cousin; but -there are many causes which make it as necessary to me as life, that -Eugenie de Menancourt should become my wife. Why, think," he -continued, raising his tone, "I should become the talk and the pity of -all Paris!--the laughing-stock of every friend I have!" - -St. Real bent down his eyes without reply, merely muttering to himself -the word, "Friend!" while his cousin went on. "What I wish then, Huon, -is this, that you would return to Paris, and seeing Eugenie, represent -to her that my claim to her hand in consequence of her father's -promise is indubitable; that I would sooner part with life than resign -that claim; and that, in order to atone for aught I may have done to -offend her, and to remove whatever objections she may have, I will -change my course of living, cast from me those faults that appear so -much blacker in her eyes than in those of our fair dames in the -capital, and live a life as pure and holy as any nun was ever reputed -to do, if she will promise at the end of a certain period to fulfil -her father's engagement towards me. Will you do this for me, Huon, and -exert all your eloquence?" - -"Philip, it would be in vain," replied St. Real; "last night, I said -all that I could say in your behalf--I promised even more for you than -I well knew that you would perform--on my life, on my honour, Philip, -I urged all that could be urged in your exculpation and in your -favour; but she remained firm; and nothing I could say made any change -in her replies. Your conduct, she said, had produced its natural -effect; that effect was not to be effaced. Her father's promise was -conditional; and, free from any engagement herself, she was resolved, -she said, never to give her hand to one who had not sought her -affection, and did not----" - -St. Real hesitated, but his cousin finished the sentence boldly for -him. "And did not possess her esteem, or deserve her love, or -something of that kind," he said; "all that she told me before! It is -but the ringing of the same chime! But by Heavens! it shall go hard if -I do not find means to ring that chime backwards! Yet, listen, St. -Real; yesterday, you were not empowered by me to say anything, and -therefore she might doubt. I now empower you on my part to vow -constancy, and promise amendment, and so forth. Will you undertake -it?--will you go?" - -"No, Philip, no," replied St. Real, in a tone of firm determination, -"I will not; I love Eugenie de Menancourt too well myself, to cheat -her with promises made in so light a tone as that. Nay, frown not on -me, Philip d'Aubin, for you shall hear more, that you may never say -your cousin deceived you. I refuse to go back to Eugenie to plead your -cause, not alone because I believe it to be both a bad and a hopeless -one, but, because I feel that it would be dangerous to my own peace; -and might make me unhappy without serving you." - -"Ho, ho!" cried D'Aubin, his brow darkening, "is such the case? Then I -see somewhat more clearly how all this may end!" - -"I trust you do," replied St. Real; "I trust from my conduct through -life, and from my conduct now, that you may plainly see what will be -that conduct still." - -D'Aubin's lip curled into a cold, unpleasant smile; but his brow did -not relax, and he answered, "What your conduct may be, like all future -things, must be left to fate; but I shall certainly take means to -ensure myself against what it seems it might be. I give you good -evening, Huon, for I find it time to bestir myself! Farewell!" - -So saying, he turned upon his heel, and left the apartment. At the -foot of the stairs he paused for a moment to speak a few eager words -with the dwarf Bartholo, and then springing on his horse galloped back -to his own abode. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -Leaving St. Real to meditate over the effects which his candour and -honesty had produced, and to strengthen himself in his integrity -against the bitterness of undeserved suspicion and reproach, we must -follow the Count d'Aubin to his dwelling, and be his companion for the -next few hours. Springing from his charger, he threw the reins to one -of his attendants, ordered fresh horses to be saddled in the stable, a -change of dress to be instantly brought him, and eagerly demanded if -no packet had arrived from Paris. The answer was in the negative; but -still the count proceeded to change his dress, apparelling himself -with no small care and splendour, brushing the dust from his dark -curling locks, and adding the fine essences that were then held a part -even of the simplest toilet. Ere he had done, there was a sharp knock -at the door of his chamber, and the next moment the dwarf Bartholo -stole in, bearing a packet in his hand. - -"I saw the messenger straying about the town," he said, "and knowing -you would want this, I hastened to bring it hither." - -"You see into my thoughts, and anticipate my wishes, good Bartholo," -replied D'Aubin, breaking open the packet, and running his eye over -the words of a regular safe-conduct from the Duke of Mayenne. "It is -all right," he added, "though they limit me to four and twenty hours; -but say, have you aught to tell me, Bartholo; for the day wears, and I -am ready to set out. There seems matter in that face of thine. Speak, -man! speak boldly. We know each other well." - -"Your lordship is kind," replied the dwarf, with one of his sardonic -grins. "I would fain give your lordship a piece of advice; but knowing -from sweet experience how advice is relished in this wise world, I -wish to know whether you have any appetite for it?" - -"Yes, yes; speak boldly," replied D'Aubin; "I am as hungry for good -advice as a famished wolf, and I am inclined to believe thee, just -now, seeing that the hint you gave me not long since concerning my -simple-seeming cousin has proved but too true. He would act in all -honour as yet, it seems; but we all know with what tiny footsteps love -begins the course, that he determines, ere the end, to stride over -like a giant. Not that I think," he added, giving a glance to the -mirror, and marking there as handsome features as ever that crowning -invention of personal vanity reflected to the self-satisfied eyes of -man--though the countenance he beheld might be somewhat worn with the -strife of passions, it is true--"not that I think that, were it come -to rivalry, I should have to fear the result. But I would fain put it -beyond all chances; so speak your advice, good Bartholo. If it suit -me, I will take it; and if not--why it is but empty air." - -"Ay, ay," replied the dwarf, "empty air, and dust and ashes! Those few -words are the history of the whole world--man's fame, and wisdom, and -wit, and eloquence, and power, and strength, and beauty--empty air, -and dust and ashes, are the whole!--so that brings me to my tidings, -and to my advice;" he continued, resuming his ordinary tone. "You have -heard of the king's wound, my lord. Now, do not you be one of the -fools who deceive themselves, and think he will recover! Take my word -for it, he will die!" - -"Nay; but the surgeons say," replied D'Aubin, "that he is already far -better, and give many shrewd reasons to show that he is nearly well." - -"Let them give what reasons they will," answered the dwarf, "do not -you believe them. Why, my good lord, do you think that your fair -friend, the Duchess of Montpensier, or any of the holy and devout men -of the Catholic union, are such fools in grain as to trust to a simple -bit of smooth innocent iron to do the work of their hatred, while they -have our dearly beloved Rene Armandi at hand, to smear the edge and -the point with some of his blessed contrivances for shortening pain -and making the work sure? No, no! my lord. Not more than two days ago, -I was hanging about the gate of that very Jacobin convent from which -this foul monk came forth, and I saw three people arrive to lay their -heads together with the very reverend and respectable Father Prior, -whose meeting told its own tale, whereof this morning's butchery is -but the comment. First came Armandi the poisoner, next came the -Duchess of Montpensier, and then came Wolfstrom the rogue; so be you -sure, my lord, that the king will die; and this very night make your -bargain so firm that no one will dare to break it. To-night," he -added, his lips curling with more cynical bitterness than ever, -"to-night you may dispose of your assistance and co-operation at what -rate you like; but if you wait till tomorrow, your merchandise will -fall a hundred per cent., for the market will be overstocked." - -The manner in which the dwarf put his counsels was certainly not the -most agreeable; but D'Aubin was accustomed to his bitterness, and was -willing enough to cull wholesome advice for the direction of his own -plans and purposes from amongst the gall and wormwood wherewith good -Bartholo seldom failed to savour his discourse. "I believe thou art -right, Bartholo," he replied; "and as I am determined sooner to lose -life itself than to be foiled, and made a laughing-stock and held up -to the scorn of all my companions by this fair-faced country-girl, I -must even make the most of my time, and bind Mayenne to his promises -by ties that he cannot shake off. Thanks, then, good Bartholo, for -your advice; I will be back before dawn to-morrow, and will reward you -better than by thanks. In the meantime, keep a wary eye on all that is -going forward here; and, both for ancient love, and for future -advancement, bring me, as often as may be, a hint of other men's -doings. And now, fare thee well--away to thy lord, lest he miss thee. -But hark I there are the horses, and I go." - -Thus saying, he threw on his hat and plume, cast a wrapping cloak -round his shoulders to keep his apparel as much as possible from the -dust; and, springing down the stairs, mounted his horse, which stood -saddled at the door. Bartholo watched him, as making a sign for his -usual train of attendants to follow, he struck his spurs into his -charger's flank, and galloped away at full speed towards Paris. A -grim smile hung upon the dwarf's lips as he saw him depart, and -muttering--"Ay, there he goes! to seek an unwilling bride, and for -pure vanity to marry, neither loving nor beloved: but it matters -not--my end is gained!"--he turned back towards the abode of St. Real. - -In the mean time, D'Aubin galloped on hastily, giving the word as he -passed any of the posts of the royal army, till at length, having got -beyond the precincts of his own camp, he was challenged by the outmost -sentinel of the League. Occupied with other thoughts, and giving way -to the vehement impatience of his nature, the Count spurred on without -reply; and the man, presenting his matchlock, fired without further -ceremony. The ball whistled past D'Aubin's head; but, merely shaking -his clenched hand at the sentinel, he pursued his rapid way, till at -length he was encountered by a body of Mayenne's horse, who again -challenged him, and obliged him to display his pass. More than once, -ere he was permitted to enter the town, the same ceremony was -observed; and, what between one delay and another, the evening sky -grew deep purple, and then faded into grey, as he rode along, at a -more cautious pace, through the streets of the capital. - -Directing his course by the shortest way, he passed through many of -the narrow gloomy lanes of the Faubourg, and, crossing one of the -bridges which joined the island in the middle of the Seine to the -shore, he plunged in amongst that dingy accumulation of tall, dark, -small-windowed houses, which lie behind the great cathedral of Notre -Dame. In these streets, at the hour of which we speak, the twilight, -which would have still been seen in the open country, existed not; and -all was darkness, except where, here and there, citizens returning -from their shops to their dwelling-houses, or persons of a higher -class going on some expedition of pleasure or business, were seen -finding their way along, preceded by a lantern or a torch; and also -where, before the hotel of some of the old nobles of the court, who -still lingered in that quarter, were to be seen a few torches fixed in -sockets at the door. It was to none of these more lordly dwellings, -however, that D'Aubin took his way; but, at a door which stood open in -a tall, unlighted, gloomy-looking house; he sprang to the ground, and -after giving his servants directions to take up their temporary abode -in an inn, where he should find them in case of necessity, and some -money wherewithal to provide themselves their evening meal, he entered -the house, followed by his page and one armed attendant, and began -mounting, in utter darkness, the long, steep, narrow stair. - -At the second story D'Aubin stopped, and by the little light that -found its way from a lamp through a small lattice upon the staircase, -he struck several hard blows with the hilt of his dagger against a -massive unshapely oaken door, which stood on one side of the -landing-place. Immediately after, a sound was heard within, and, the -door opening, the Count was admitted, shading his eyes from the sudden -glare of light, into a small ante-room or vestibule, where, stretched -on benches or settles, were ten or eleven stout attendants, together -with one of those large sort of vehicles which we are accustomed to -call sedan-chairs, wherein the ladies of Paris were very much -accustomed, at that time, to go from house to house, and one of which -we have already described. - -The person who opened the door was a trim-looking serving-man, dressed -somewhat in the garb of an inferior burgher of the town; and, -conducted by this personage, D'Aubin was led on, leaving his groom -behind him, but followed by the page. The next chamber into which he -was led presented a different aspect, being a small octagon room, with -the ceiling of black oak exquisitely carved, the walls beautifully -painted and gilt, and the furniture as rich and elegant as the art and -taste of that day could produce. - -Here D'Aubin was met by no less a personage than Armandi the perfumer, -who, bowing low and reverently, welcomed him to his house, and then -led him on through several chambers, each more tastefully decorated -than the other, into one where eastern luxury itself was outdone, and -where Madame de Montpensier was waiting the guest she had invited -there to supper. Strange as it may seem that the highest and noblest -in such a capital as Paris should abandon their own convenient and -splendid dwellings, to make these little parties at the houses of -inferior, and often of very base and dishonourable persons, yet the -custom was not restricted to this period of French history, but even -in the succeeding reigns the monarch himself was frequently known thus -to indulge; and the custom, which was begun probably with political -views, or for the sake of a temporary relaxation from the fetters of -state, was found to be too convenient for a debauched court to be -readily abandoned. - -"True to your appointment, most noble Count," said the Duchess, in a -light tone. "I augur from your punctuality, that all goes well and -happily with the heretics and tyrants beyond the walls, so that they -can spare the services of so gallant a cavalier as the Count d'Aubin." - -"The fact is, most beautiful Lady Catherine," replied D'Aubin, whose -plan was already fixed, "that their majesties are waiting till the day -after to-morrow, ere they begin serious operations against the city; -for, first, with that brilliant forgetfulness which characterises -great men, they did not remember till yesterday that fifteen hundred -cannon-balls are hardly enough to begin a regular bombardment; and, -secondly, they wished that my worthy cousin should bring up his troops -on the side of St. Denis, in order to straiten you a little in your -diet, as they are resolved, absolutely, to try whether your stomachs -are not like that of the ostrich, and capable of digesting mere iron -in default of other food. They must therefore wait a day to give time -for casting bullets and marching men." - -D'Aubin spoke with so much of his ordinary levity, that he left Madame -de Montpensier still doubtful whether he spoke in earnest or in -jest--whether he was saying what was really the case, or from some -particular motive was endeavouring to deceive her. - -"You seem in a mood for revelations to-night," she said. "Thank you -for your warning, Monsieur d'Aubin, we shall be upon our guard; but -whether the two kings will thank you for telling us, remains to be -proved." - -"I care very little whether they thank me or not," replied D'Aubin; -"besides, what I have said can do you no good, and them no harm, -otherwise I should not have told it. You are here in a net, fair lady; -and you must employ some other means to get yourself free than those -you have hitherto employed, or depend upon it, the fisherman will put -in his hand and take you." - -"He may find that he has a shark in the net," replied Madame de -Montpensier, "and be glad enough to let it escape ere it devour him." - -"Well, we shall see," replied D'Aubin--"we shall see. But oh! by the -Lord, I had nearly forgot to compliment your Highness on your exploits -of this morning. Has none of the Dominican come back to you yet? - -"None of the Dominican!" exclaimed Madame de Montpensier, with evident -astonishment--"none of the Dominican! What do you mean, D'Aubin?" - -"I simply mean," replied the Count, "that by this time I thought your -Highness might at least have got a leg, or an arm, or a foot, or a -little finger of your martyr, to make a relic of; for it could -scarcely be more than two o'clock when he was torn to pieces by the -four horses. No, it could not be more than two; for as soon as ever he -attempted to stab the king, La Guesle ran his sword through him, and, -almost immediately after, casting him out of the window, they tied him -to the horses' heels, and tore him to pieces, in the little square -down by the end of the bridge." - -"_Attempted_ to kill the king!" said Madame de Montpensier, but ill -concealing, in her desire to hear more, her previous knowledge of the -act that had been perpetrated--"attempted! Then he _did not_ kill -him." - -"Oh, no," replied D'Aubin, gaily, and purposely affecting to laugh at -her disappointment. "You do not think Henry is such a fool as to let -himself be killed by a bungling Dominican. You should have sent our -friend in the next room there, Armandi, or some other skilful, -delicate, dexterous personage. Besides, dear lady, when you and -Armandi and good father Bourgoin were consulting together, surely -three such shrewd heads as yours might have fallen upon some better -and more politic plan of getting rid of a bad king than that of -trusting the execution of the act to an ignorant, clumsy, timid friar. -Good faith! I should have thought that you might have even acted -Judith yourself, and have delivered the land of our worthy Holofernes -of St. Cloud with your own hand." - -Madame de Montpensier turned pale, and red, and pale again; and there -was a quivering of her fine lip, and a flashing of her proud dark eye, -which showed D'Aubin at length that he was urging her too far. As soon -as he perceived it, he dropped the sarcastic irony which he had been -using; and drawing nearer to her, he took her fair, soft, jewelled -hand in his, and raised it to his lips. "Forgive me," he said, "for -teasing you. I love not Henry of Valois more than you do--as you well -know; and though I will not say that I regret your attempt has failed, -yet I do believe that all knowledge of the share you had in it rests -with me alone, and, believe me, my lips are and shall ever be sealed -by this kiss upon this hand--except towards yourself." - -Madame de Montpensier gazed on him in no small surprise. "You assume -things, sir," she said with some hesitation, "which you have no right -to assume." - -"Nay, nay," replied D'Aubin, "say not a word, dear lady. I know the -whole as well as if I had been one of your triumvirate at the Jacobins -the day before yesterday, all the means employed, the vision of the -angel, and all----" - -"Either some one has betrayed me, or you deal in magic, D'Aubin!" -cried the Duchess. - -D'Aubin smiled to see her consternation; for although, by combining -the information he had received from St. Real with the hints that had -been given him by the dwarf, and adding thereunto his own knowledge of -the parties, he had been able to form a very correct guess at the -truth--and although he knew the effect which vague hints of greater -knowledge than one possesses, supported by one or two distinct facts, -will produce upon a mind loaded with a heavy secret and apprehensive -of discovery, yet he had hardly calculated upon so completely -deceiving such a shrewd intriguer as Madame de Montpensier, in regard -to the extent of his information. "No one has betrayed you," he -replied; "nor do I deal in magic; but I have far greater means of -knowing things that pass both in the city and in the camp than you -suppose. What I have said just now I said but to tease you; and, -indeed, fair lady, you deserve somewhat worse at my hands." - -"Wherefore, wherefore? How so?" demanded Madame de Montpensier; "how -have I offended you, D'Aubin?" - -"Why, I do think," replied D'Aubin, "that considering all the old -friendships which had existed between us, it should not have been you -who attempted to mar my fortunes, and thwart my purposes. Did you not -only last night propose to my cousin St. Real to bestow on him the -hand of my promised bride?" - -"I did," replied Madame de Montpensier, boldly, recovering in a moment -all her composure--"I did, and I will tell you why I did so, Philip -d'Aubin. I saw, by your conversation of the day before, that you had -irretrievably attached yourself to the party of the tyrant; and I -consider the interests of our cause far before any private interests -or friendships. I am resolved, and so I know also is Mayenne, that the -hand of Mademoiselle de Menancourt shall never be given to any but a -member of the union; and it was therefore that I offered her hand to -your cousin, if he would bring his forces to our side." - -"Ah! but, lady," replied D'Aubin, "how could you venture on such an -offer, when your own brother, the very morning before, had made the -same to me, and left me a certain time to deliberate and act?" - -"Nay, of that I know nothing," replied Madame de Montpensier. "Had I -been aware of that, of course I should have acted differently." - -"But if you and your brother will play at cross purposes," said -D'Aubin, "what surety is there that the promises of either will be -kept? And observe the consequences of this sort of dealing! My cousin -at once determined to join the forces of the king, told me the story, -and thus well-nigh changed all my views and purposes, unsettled my -designs, and nearly determined me to take an oath of perpetual service -to the kings." - -"Nay, nay," replied the Duchess, giving him her hand, "but join us at -this moment of our need, and Eugenie shall be yours." - -"Ay," said D'Aubin; "but I must have some better security than mere -promises." - -"Surely you do not doubt me," said Madame de Montpensier, "when I most -solemnly declare----" - -"Declare nothing, dear lady," answered D'Aubin; "I doubt nobody, but -my resolution is taken. The hand of Eugenie de Menancourt must be -promised to me this night, under the hand and seal of his Highness of -Mayenne, as lieutenant-general of the kingdom; or when I return to the -camp to-morrow, I pledge myself, in the most solemn terms, to serve -the Kings of France and Navarre, till there is no such thing as a Holy -League and Union in France. And more, I assure you most solemnly, that -I will instantly send an order unto Maine to cut down remorselessly -every acre of my old forests, in order to raise another regiment for -the service of the state. Now, mark me, lady!--mark me well! In doing -this, I know what I am doing; for, if you cannot obtain this written -promise for me, it will be evident your brother does not intend that -the hand of Eugenie should be mine, and I have no other means to -obtain it, but the capture of Paris and the destruction of the League. -It will be therefore well worth my while to sacrifice everything to -swell the ranks of the royal forces, in order to insure success." - -"Well, well, say no more, say no more," replied Madame de Montpensier; -"the promise you shall have, if I have any influence with Mayenne; and -besides, you say he voluntarily made it himself, and therefore he will -not hesitate to write it. But tell me what are the terms in which this -promise is to be couched--you mean him to promise you her hand, if she -herself consents?" - -"No, no," replied D'Aubin; "I will leave no hold for after tampering -and intrigue by any party. But," seeing a cloud come over the brow of -Madame de Montpensier at his intemperate words, "I mean not any -offence to you, dear lady. Others may tamper--there are others may -intrigue, and may delay her consent and our union so long that my -views in favour of the League itself may be overthrown. The moment -that the hand of Eugenie is mine, I will raise for the service of the -Duke all the retainers of the house of Menancourt who are now either -lying idle, or swelling the ranks of the royalists. What I demand then -is, that your brother--acting as lieutenant-general of the kingdom, as -well as calling himself so, and consequently considering himself as -the lawful guardian of all wards of the crown--shall promise me, -without other condition than that in three days I subscribe the Union -and join my forces to his, the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt, which -was promised to me by her own father." - -Madame de Montpensier mused for a moment; and then rising, she -replied, "It shall be done, D'Aubin; it shall be done. The -world--which Mayenne fears more than he will acknowledge--can say -nothing against this act, for it is but a ratification of her father's -promise by him who now stands in her father's place. Here," she cried -aloud, ringing a small silver bell that stood on the table before her, -and which was instantly answered by the appearance of Armandi, "bring -me ink and paper, René. You shall write down the promise as you would -have it, D'Aubin, and I will get my brother to sign it before you go; -but make haste, for every moment I expect Wolfstrom to make our third -at supper." - -"I, too, must be speedy," replied D'Aubin; "for I must be back in the -camp long before dawn, lest there be any tampering with my troops. -They are all fresh, and new-arrived, so that I can do with them what I -will at present; but there is many a shrewd head both amongst the -Huguenots and royalists, and, not being too sure of my attachment, -they may think to make sure of my soldiers." - -With his swift and gliding step Armandi soon re-appeared, bearing the -writing materials which had been demanded, and D'Aubin proceeded to -put down the brief promise which he required from Mayenne; but -scarcely had he finished, when the leader of the reitters made -his appearance, and seemed somewhat surprised at the grave and -business-like faces by which he was received. - -"What is the hour, sir Albert?" demanded Madame de Montpensier. "Has -it yet struck nine?" - -"The light, or rather the darkness, says that it is nearer ten," -replied the German; "and I heard the nine o'clock bell near an hour -ago." - -"Then I shall not find Mayenne till eleven," replied the Duchess. "His -clock-work habits have, at all events, the advantage of letting one -know when and where he is to be met with. Come, Armandi, is the table -ready? We may as well fill the moments with something more real than -poor thought." - -In a moment Armandi re-appeared, and with soft and courtly words -informed the Duchess that the best refreshments which his poor house -and inferior artists could prepare waited her gracious presence. -Catherine of Guise and her two companions followed where he led; and, -proceeding into another small cabinet, they found a table covered with -what might well have merited the name of _cates divine_, if ever -anything can be so called which is destined to pamper the most animal -propensity of our nature. - -Placing himself beside the Duchess's chair--while his own lacqueys and -the pages of the guests served and carved the dishes, and poured out -the wine--Armandi, in his low, sweet tone, mingled in the -conversation, descanted upon the merits of the various kinds of food, -and read one of those lectures upon the mysterious art of cookery -which persons addicted to the pleasures of the table are always well -pleased to hear during their meals--stimulating their appetite for the -good things before them, by exciting their _eating imagination_ with -pictures of unseen delicacies. - -The exquisite fare, however, which was placed before them, the choice -and delicious wines that flowed amongst them like water, and even the -culinary eloquence of Armandi, did not seem capable of rousing either -Madame de Montpensier or D'Aubin from the thoughtful seriousness into -which their preceding conversation had thrown them. Albert of -Wolfstrom, indeed, ate and drank, and enjoyed to the uttermost, and -showed his white teeth in many a grin at the thoughts of all the rare -ragouts and savoury sauces which the perfumer described; but his -companions were grave and abstinent, and when the dessert was placed -upon the table the Duchess rose. - -"I leave you, gentlemen," she said, "for half an hour, trusting you -can amuse yourselves, at least for that time, without a woman's -presence. D'Aubin," she added, turning to the Count, and marking a -certain degree of stern anxiety upon his brow--"D'Aubin, it shall be -done!" - -Thus saying she quitted them; and Wolfstrom looked to D'Aubin with -inquiring eyes, as if for information regarding what was passing. But -D'Aubin's countenance replied nothing; and the German, filling high a -glass with sparkling Burgundy, exclaimed, "Come, come, Count, think no -more of your mysteries with the lovely Duchess! Let us have the dice, -and pass her half hour's absence pleasantly." - -"With all my heart," replied D'Aubin; and there shot through his own -bosom one of those strange dreams of superstition which are felt even -in the present time, but which were much more common then. "I have -cast my last great stake already," he thought; "but the dice will soon -show me whether fortune favours me to-night or not!" - -The dice were brought, a small table placed beside them, and Wolfstrom -and D'Aubin shook the accursed boxes, and cast throw after throw. -Fortune, however, _did_ favour D'Aubin: he won invariably; and though -the sums for which they played at that time were too small to make the -gain or loss a matter of any consequence, yet the fancy which had -taken possession of him made him rejoice more at the winning of a few -hundred crowns than if he had acquired a fortune. His lip smiled, his -eye sparkled, his cheek glowed; and though the time of Madame de -Montpensier's absence was nearly double that which she had -anticipated, D'Aubin found it not tedious, even under expectation. - -At length she returned; and, without a word, laid down a paper on the -table before the Count. D'Aubin ran his eye over the promise he had -himself drawn up; and there assuredly, at the bottom of the page, -stood Mayenne's name in his own handwriting, together with the broad -seal of his arms. - -What arguments she had used, what reasons she had assigned, what -motives she had called into action, to obtain that signature, the -Duchess did not tell, but gazed for a moment with a look of triumph -upon the Count; and then, as her eye caught the dice upon the -table, she turned with an air of gay indifference to Wolfstrom, -demanding--"Well, sir Albert! have you won the Royalist's gold!" - -"Good faith, no!" cried the German, throwing the dice into a water-jar -of rock-crystal that stood upon the supper-table; "those little demons -have played me false, and he has won six hundred of as good crowns of -the League as ever were squeezed from a heretic Huguenot." - -"Well, well!" replied Madame de Montpensier, "if the dice forsake you, -turn again to the wine, Sir Albert; there is a resource for you in all -time of trouble. Fill me yon Venice glass too; and you, D'Aubin, give -me that sweet manchet--for, to tell the truth, the thoughts of this -encounter I was about to undergo in your behalf, sir Count, kept me -from supper." - -D'Aubin gracefully spoke his thanks, taking care, however, to veil, in -the circumlocutory ornaments employed in that day, all direct allusion -to the nature of the service for which he expressed his gratitude. The -conversation became gay and animated for half an hour; roamed to a -thousand indifferent subjects, touching each with a momentary -light--like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds of a windy autumn -day, and skipping from point to point in the landscape as the vapours -are hurried on before the gale--and then, drooping for a moment, -paused as if to breathe the wits of the gay little coterie. Madame de -Montpensier took advantage of that minute to rise and depart; and -D'Aubin, bidding his male companion "Good night," proceeded to call -together his attendants and return to the camp. - -A more strict watch was kept in the night than in the day; and, what -between one halt and another, the dawn was beginning to purple the -eastern verge of the sky, when the Count arrived at the spot where his -troops were quartered. As he was dismounting from his horse, however, -some one whispered a word in his ear; and, springing again at once -into the saddle, he turned his horse's head, and galloped on to his -lodgings at St. Cloud. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -While such was the conduct of the Count d'Aubin, St. Real, whom he had -left hurt, agitated, and gloomy, continued to pace his little chamber, -giving way to many a melancholy thought. The more he yielded to -reflection, the more he examined the state of his own heart, the more -deeply and bitterly he felt that the deceit he had practised upon -himself did not date from a late period, but had been of long -existence. He remembered the pleasure he had felt in the society of -Eugenie de Menancourt from his earliest days, in the sweet -reciprocation of simple and innocent feelings, in the mutual -communication of thoughts and sensations peculiar to the retired state -of life in which they then passed their days. He remembered how much -pain he had felt when her father, taking part in the troubles of the -time, had removed for a short period from his neighbourhood; and he -remembered how gladly he had heard that the hand of Eugenie de -Menancourt had been promised to his cousin the young Count d'Aubin, -inasmuch as that engagement was destined to bring her back to the -vicinity of his father's chateau. He had calculated, simply enough, -upon always regarding her as a beloved sister; and as he never for a -moment having dreamed of any other feeling towards her during his -early days, the idea certainly never presented itself after he was -informed of an arrangement which he was taught to look upon as a -positive engagement towards his cousin. When she did return to Maine, -he greeted her with what he fancied brotherly affection; and though -when he beheld his cousin apparently neglecting her, to pay devoted -attention to the gay and sparkling beauties of the royal court, he -felt a degree of anger and indignation on Eugenie's account, which -made him devote himself entirely to her, he would have considered -those feelings--had he thought of the matter in such a light at -all--as the surest proofs that his inmost sensations towards Eugenie -de Menancourt were merely those of a relation, inasmuch as, instead of -feeling jealous of the attentions his cousin paid her, he was angry -that those attentions were not more. Now, however, he knew the -whole--he saw that the love he had felt had been early conceived, and -secretly nourished; and the insight that he gained into his own -feelings showed him that those feelings could never change, but would -last in all their intensity to cause his misery through life. - -While these thoughts passed in his mind, the time flew quickly by; and -the meal which his principal attendants took care should be placed -before him, was served and taken away almost untouched. Shortly -afterwards, Monsieur de Sancy visited him; and St. Real, whose mind -was not one to yield where it could resist, endeavoured to enter -vigorously into everything that could distract his attention from -himself, spoke again and again of all the probable consequences of the -events that were occurring, and endeavoured to gain a clear and -distinct knowledge of the characters, purposes, and power of the -various nobles forming the royalist party. - -For the time the attempt succeeded, and his mind found some relief -from the memory of personal sorrows; but the moment that Monsieur de -Sancy left him, his thoughts returned to himself as bitterly as ever. -As evening fell, he fancied that music might soothe his mind or -distract his attention; and sending for his page, Leonard de Monte, he -asked, "Did you not once tell me, Leonard, that you could sing, and -play upon the lute? I am somewhat sad just now, my boy, and would fain -hear a little music to while away unpleasant ideas." - -The boy smiled with a peculiar expression, and replied. "Music!--I -will sing, if you like--that is to say, if I can find a lute; but -music which will soothe care, and refresh the mind fatigued of -business, calm the turbulent thoughts of ambition, or soften the -feverish pangs of sickness, is no antidote against sorrow, and is, -they say 'the food of love.'" - -"Well, well," replied St. Real, "let me hear your instrument and your -voice; I must have amusement of some kind, for this night wears -heavily." - -"I have not my own lute here," replied the boy, "but the dwarf will -soon find one, I warrant;" and, going out, he returned in a few -moments followed by Bartholo, carrying one of those guitars with -eleven strings which were the principal musical instruments then in -vogue. The boy struck his hand across the chords, and then pushed it -from him to the dwarf, exclaiming angrily, "Take it from me, and tune -it. Why give me a thing all discord, like that?" - -"May it please you," replied the dwarf, with a look of humble -deference, which did not escape St. Real's eyes, and which he had -never seen assumed towards himself, "I did not know that it had been -out of tune, or I should not have failed----" - -"Well, well, take it away," replied the boy; and, remaining seated on -the spot where he had placed himself to sing, he leaned with his elbow -on the arm of the chair, and his head upon his hand, and the dark -shining locks of his black hair falling in linked curls over his clear -beautiful brow and small graceful fingers. He seemed to be thinking -over the song he was about to sing. At least, so St. Real read his -attitude. But the tone in which the youth had spoken to the dwarf, and -that in which the dwarf replied, had struck and surprised their common -master, and he was about to disturb the page's reverie, by making some -inquiries in regard to his previous history, when Bartholo again -returned with the lute. The boy took it, and running his fingers -through the strings, scarcely seeming to know what note he struck, -produced, nevertheless, a wild plaintive wandering melody, which -nothing but the most exquisite skill and knowledge of the instrument -could have brought forth. - -"There are few songs," he said, looking up in St. Real's face, "that -are good to soothe sorrow; but I will sing you one of the battle-songs -of my own unhappy land, in which liberty begat anarchy, and anarchy -strife, and strife weakness, till foreign tyrants made a prey of -nations who knew not that military and political power are the -children of internal union and civil order--a land which, from sea to -sea, has been one vast battle-field for ages past." - -He paused, and seemed to give a moment of sad thought to the sorrows -of his native country; then suddenly dashing his hand over the chords, -he made them ring with a loud and peculiar air, so marked and measured -that one could almost fancy one heard the regular footfalls of -marching men, mingled with the sounding of the trumpet, and the -beating of the drum. Then joining his clear melodious voice, he sung -of the dreams of glory and of patriotism wherewith the soldier on his -way warms his heart to battle, and conceals from his own eyes the dark -and bloody nature of the deed itself. Then again the chords of the -instrument, with a quicker movement, and more discordant sounds, -imitated the clang and clash of charging hosts; and the deep and -frequent tones of the bass might be supposed to express the roar of -the artillery, while still between came the notes of the clarion, and -sounds that resembled the distant beating of the drum. At the same -time the voice of the youth, in few but striking words, and, as it -were, with brief snatches of song, called up the images more forcibly, -and aided imagination in supplying all that the scope of the lute -could not afford. Gradually, however, as he sung, the louder sounds -were omitted; the imitation of the trumpet changed from the notes of -the charge to those of the retreat; the strings seemed to rustle under -his touch, as if from the hasty rush of flying multitudes; and then, -with a sudden change of time, the music altered to a sweet and -plaintive strain of wailing, while his voice took up the song of -mourning for the dead. - -Till that moment St. Real had no idea of all that music can produce. -He had heard sweet songs, and what were then considered fine -compositions; but this was something totally different; this was a -painting addressed not to the eye, but to the ear; and that not with -words which with laborious minuteness, describe insignificant parts, -without conveying effectually grand impressions; but with sounds -which, rousing fancy's greatest powers at once, called up all the -splendid pageantry of imagination to complete for the mind's eye the -grand pictures that those tones suggested. The boy, too, as he sung, -looked like one inspired; his eyes flashed and glittered; his voice -rose and fell with every touch of feeling which his song expressed; -and his hand seemed now playing amidst the strings, as if in childish -sport; now sweeping them with all the fire and power of some mighty -master of song; but ever with such perfect ease and grace, that it -seemed a gift rather than an accomplishment. When his voice had -ceased, St. Real sat rapt for one moment by all the feelings which the -music had inspired; and then, gazing upon the youth, he said, "You are -an extraordinary boy, and I must one day have your history, Leonard." - -The youth shook his head; but then after a short pause added, -abruptly, "Perhaps you may, perhaps you may--but now while the lute is -in tune, I will sing you another song--a song about love;" and without -waiting for reply, he struck the chords, and began, with a measure and -a tone so different, as for a time to seem almost tame and -insignificant, when compared with the wild and thrilling energy of the -former music. But as he went on, there was a touching and melancholy -pathos in the words and in the air which went direct to St. Real's -heart, rousing feelings which he would fain have lulled to sleep, and -overwhelming him with deeper melancholy than ever. So sad, so -sorrowful did it make him,--so completely did it master him and take -possession of his imagination, that he could have given way even to -tears, if there had been no eye to see him so unmanned. - -The boy was still going on; but St. Real waved his hand, exclaiming, -"Hush, hush! no more! It is too much for me!" - -The boy looked up with a smile, saying, - - - "He that will not find - Ease when he may, - Leaves all joy behind - For ever and a day. - - "Yet let him wither - His own hopes at will, - So that no other - Blossoms he kill." - - -St. Real started, somewhat surprised. "You seem to know," he said, -"more of me and mine than I fancied. I must hear what you do know, -Leonard, and how you know it, before you quit me." - -"Nay, nay, my good lord," replied the boy, still smiling, "look not so -suspicious. Does it need a very shrewd guess to discover, or to fancy, -when a gallant cavalier, like yourself, falls into sadness suddenly, -as if he had caught some infectious disease, and then looks more dark -and gloomy still, when one sings a simple song to him about love, and -beautiful eyes--does it need a very shrewd guess to fancy that after -all, that same passion of love is at the bottom of the mystery?" - -"But you spoke but now," replied St. Real, "as if you knew more than -that, and made allusions that you could not have made unless you had -known more." - -"Faith then, my lord," replied the boy, "the man who compounded the -old proverb I repeated, must have had a mighty skill in divination, to -see what was likely to go on in your lordship's heart some hundred -years after he himself had lived, and that it would serve a page at -his need instead of a better answer--but yet the proverb is a good -one," he continued, rambling on. "Good faith! I hold that no man has a -right to make a woman love him, and then leave her for any whimsy -whatsoever. I do not know much about these things, it is true, but I -think that it is dishonourable." - -"But suppose," replied St. Real, "that honour has some other claim -upon him which calls him in a different way--what should he do then?" - -"Why, methinks he should become an apothecary!" replied the boy; and -then added, seeing St. Real's brow slightly contract, "what I mean is, -my lord, that he should take the very nicest scales that conscience -can supply to weigh out medicines for hurt honour, if he have got -himself into such a scrape that honour must be injured either way. Or -he may do the matter differently, and weigh in those nice scales which -is the heaviest sin,--to break a lady's heart; to leave her unhappy -and cheerless through the long days of life; to doom her to wed one -that she does not love, or perhaps hates; to have her reproaches and -her sorrow to answer for at his dying day; or, on the other hand, to -violate what he may think a claim upon his honour, which very likely -priests and prelates, and saints and martyrs, and his own heart too, -in the calm after-day of life, may tell him was no claim at all." - -"And do you tell me that you speak thus from mere guess?" demanded St. -Real. "No, no, my boy! You have some other knowledge; and you must -give me an answer how it was obtained." - -"Indeed, my lord," answered the youth, starting up and laughing "I am -tired, sleepy, and thirsty, with looking for you all the morning, and -singing you two songs at night. So, by your leave, I will e'en go to -bed and sleep; and I dare say before to-morrow morning I shall be able -to make an answer, for I have not one ready made; and even if my wit -should run low, I will away by cock-crow to the nearest _fripier_, and -buy me an answer second-hand. One often finds one as good as new that -has served twenty people before;" and seeing St. Real about to speak -again with a serious brow, he ended with a gay laugh, and darted out -of the room. - -A momentary feeling of anger passed through St. Real's breast, and he -half rose in his chair, determined to call the boy back and make him -explain distinctly what was the meaning of the allusions he had made, -how he had obtained his information, and to what length it extended. -Brief reflection, however, caused him to pause and change his purpose; -thinking that it would be better to take time to regulate his own -thoughts, and command his own feelings, ere he questioned his page -upon subjects so likely to awaken and expose deep emotions in himself. -Casting himself back into his seat again, he revolved all that had -just passed; and his mind, reverting to everything that was painful -and distressing in his situation, fell into one of those sad and -melancholy dreams which must have visited almost every one at some -time of life, when the bright and brilliant prospects of youth are -suddenly obscured by the dark and lowering clouds which precede the -first storms of life. - -However painful may be this mode of mind,--however desirous we may be -of escaping from it,--however sensibly we may feel that the only -relief we can hope is to be found in activity, occupation, and -resistance; yet there is a benumbing influence in that peculiar state -of grief and disappointment, which, like the fabled fascination of the -serpent in regard to the birds it seeks to devour, prevents us from -employing the only means of delivering ourselves. St. Real knew as -well as any one, that the occupation of his thoughts upon other -subjects was the only relief he could hope for; but still he lingered -on from hour to hour, no sooner attempting to turn his mind to other -things, than falling back again into the same desponding memories of -all that he cast away when he resigned the hope of ever seeing Eugenie -de Menancourt again. Ere he was aware of it--for deep grief, like -intense happiness, "takes no note of time"--the grey daylight of the -early summer dawn began to pour through the open window. All had been -long quiet in the town, the inns and cabarets had long been closed, -and not a sound had for some time stirred in the _auberge_ where he -had taken up his quarters. But at length his reverie was broken by the -distant sound of horses' feet; and, rising from his seat, he almost -mechanically proceeded to the window, and gazed out up and down the -road. At first no one was visible, except a small group of guards at -the gates of the Maison de Gondi, in which King Henry III. had fixed -hie abode, and though they were apparently speaking together, the -tones they used were so low that not even the murmur of their voices -reached St. Real's ear through the still, calm silence of the early -morning. The next moment, however, the sound of coming horse became -suddenly more distinct, as, turning the corner of the road from -Meudon, a party of five cavaliers galloped into the village. St. Real -fixed his eyes upon them as they advanced, and instantly recognised in -their leader Henry of Navarre. - -The guards at the gate of the Maison de Gondi seemed, from the bustle -created amongst them, not only to see the party, but to recognise the -cousin of their monarch. The tidings of his arrival appeared to be -passed on into the court; and the moment after, the soldiers and -officers of the Scottish guard came pouring forth without any symptoms -of their usual discipline and orderly demeanour. The King of Navarre -perceived their approach; and nearly opposite to the window at which -St. Real stood drew up his horse, which hitherto had proceeded at full -gallop. Several of the officers of the guard instantly rushed forward, -and cast themselves upon one knee at the stirrup of the monarch, -exclaiming, "Oh, sire! you are our king and our master!" and, at the -same moment, one or two voices from the crowd pronounced, for the -first time, the often repeated words, "Vive Henry Quatre!" - -The king sprang to the ground, affected even to tears, exclaiming in a -tone of unfeigned regret, "Alas, alas! is he then really dead?" -Walking rapidly forward, he proceeded towards the royal headquarters, -and entered the Maison de Gondi; and the news of Henry III.'s death -proceeded rapidly through the town. Every house began soon to pour -forth its inhabitants; and ere the sun was well risen, all was bustle, -and agitation, and confusion. - -Although a feeling of reverence for that fearful thing, death, and the -awe which an event of such magnitude might well inspire, repressed -much of the noise which otherwise would have been heard: and though -the eager consultations and busy rumours were carried on in no louder -tone than a whisper, still it was evident, from every symptom -displayed by the multitudes which now thronged the streets of St. -Cloud, that the ties which linked society together were broken, that -the foundations were shaken, and that not only the fabric of the royal -army, but even of the French monarchy itself, was wavering as if to -fall. - -After gazing out for a few minutes upon the scene below, with the -feelings of a mere spectator, St. Real remembered that he himself had -a part to act; and as the _auberge_, in common with all the other -houses of the town, was by this time roused, he called for his -attendants, and despatched a messenger to his cousin, intimating his -wish to speak with him immediately. Then casting on his cloak, he went -forth into the street; and entering into conversation with some of the -inferior officers of the troops, he tried to gain some insight into -the various feelings and motives by which the lower ranks of the royal -army were actuated; and, wherever he found it possible, endeavoured to -give a bias to the wavering and undetermined in favour of that conduct -which could alone save the monarchy and the country. - -To every one whom he addressed St. Real was a stranger; and though his -dress was such as became his station, yet his rank and character being -unknown, it was not at all improbable that he would have met with -insolence, if not violence, had there not been in his whole demeanour -that mingling of frankness and dignity, of sincerity and of grace, -which went far, not only to win and to persuade, but to command -attention and respect. While he was thus engaged, the attendant whom -he had despatched to his cousin returned, and informed him that the -Count d'Aubin had gone up to the royal quarters; and, almost at the -same moment, a hand was laid upon his arm, and turning round, he -beheld Monsieur de Sancy. - -"A moment's conversation with you, Monsieur de St. Real," he said, -leading the way towards the _auberge_. St. Real instantly followed, -and on entering, conducted the old officer to his own apartments. - -"Is your mind the same as when last I saw you?" demanded De Sancy, as -soon as the door was shut. - -"Undoubtedly," replied St. Real; "you cannot suppose I would change." - -"One can never tell," replied De Sancy, smiling; "you will find this -morning that more than fifty have changed since the same hour last -night; and, to speak plainly, Monsieur de St. Real, your own cousin -amongst the number. However, let us ourselves lose no time. The -leaders are flocking up to the quarters of the late king, and many, I -fear, will be the differences we shall find. Nevertheless, I hope that -we shall still be able to make up a good party on our side, and -perhaps we may shame a great many more to join us by taking a bold -position ourselves, and letting the others see that they are not only -contemptible, but weak. Will you come, for every moment is of -consequence?" - -"Instantly!" replied St. Real. "D'Aubin is there already." - -"Then there will be mischief going on," said De Sancy; "for I have -very sure information that your cousin has decidedly chosen his part. -I do not fear to say to you, Monsieur de St. Real, that he is wrong, -and that he knows it; and when such is the case, it is natural that a -man should endeavour to persuade as many others to act in the same way -as possible, in order that, at all events, he may shelter his own -conduct from the odium of singularity." - -"Very often, too," replied St. Real, as they walked on, "when a man is -determined upon a thing, and does not clearly know whether he is right -or wrong, he strives to satisfy himself that he is right, by bringing -over as many more to his own side as possible. This I believe to be -D'Aubin's case; for his opinions on any points are never very fixed, -and many is the time that I have heard him defend both sides of a -question with equal skill." - -"Vanity, vanity, all that!" replied De Sancy, "and a most unhappy -vanity too; for it has cheated many a man out of his honour and -integrity, out of his own self-respect, out of the world's esteem--ay, -and even out of his hopes of heaven. But at all events, as apostates, -whether religious or political, are the most vehement against the -creeds they abandon, so we may feel sure that Monsieur d'Aubin, and -all those who have cast off their loyalty, will have many a furious -argument in store against the cause which they are quitting. Let us be -prepared then to assert in words, as well as deeds, the ancient -loyalty of the French nobility." - -"Of course, to the best of our abilities," said St. Real; "but my -voice can have small weight. Who is that going in?" he added, just as -they reached the gates of the Hotel de Gondi, the court of which was -filled with guards and attendants--"I mean that stout, hard-featured -man, who walks forward with as consequential a step as if the throne -were his." - -"By my honour, if it be not his to take," replied De Sancy, "it may be -his to give; for if he act heartily with the king, there is little -fear of the result. If he go over to the League, the clouds, which are -dark enough already, will grow deeper still over our heads. It is -Armand de Gontaut, Marechal de Biron. He is stopping to speak with the -officer on guard. I will see if I can learn his determination; for he -is so much in the hearts of the soldiers, that one half the army will -fall off if he fail us." - -Thus saying, De Sancy advanced; and, with an air of some deference, -saluted Biron, who in return shook him warmly by the hand. He failed, -however, in his object of gaining any insight into the purposes of the -old soldier, though his questions were dexterously put. Whether at -that moment the Marshal had not yet determined upon any precise line -of conduct, or whether he hoped to gain greater advantages by -concealing his own views, he evaded De Sancy's enquiries; and then -said abruptly, "A great number of our friends are assembled already in -the lower hall to talk over all these affairs. If you are going to -them, I will walk in with you." - -De Sancy replied that they were about to join the rest; and Biron, -after running his eyes with a glance of some attention and pleasure -over the fine and soldier-like person of St. Real, asked his companion -in a low voice who he was. De Sancy replied in the same tone; and the -Marshal rejoined in a louder voice, "Indeed, indeed!--I knew his -father too--I knew him well, in the time of my uncle, you know. -Monsieur de St. Real, I am glad to see you here, and I hope----" But -here their conversation was interrupted by an officer requiring them -to give up their swords, a ceremony which the two commanders seemed -prepared for, and with which St. Real, of course, complied without -opposition. De Biron then again turned towards St. Real, as if to -conclude his sentence; but ere he could speak, a young man, whom St. -Real had remarked with the King of Navarre as he rode into town that -morning, came up, and after shaking hands with Monsieur de Sancy, drew -Biron aside, whispered a word in his ear, and then passed on. The -Marshal smiled, and from this slight indication De Sancy drew a -favourable augury, saying to St. Real, ere the other rejoined them, "I -think from that smile all will go well. That young gentleman is Rosny, -an especial friend and adherent of his present Majesty." - -By this time they had nearly reached the chamber in which the nobles -of France, with the body of their late monarch lying in a room not -very distant, and their lawful sovereign seated in the apartment -directly above them, were deliberating what use they should make of -the power which a foul and unjustifiable act of their common enemy had -thrown into their hands. The table at which they were placed was -nearly full, and Marshal Biron, with De Sancy and St. Real, placed -themselves in a group at the end next to the door; while the Duke of -Longueville, who was speaking when they entered, went on. He was a -young man of a handsome and prepossessing appearance; but his manner -was timid, and his elocution hesitating and difficult. He did not seem -so much to want ideas as words, and appeared even to want words more -from not having any confidence in himself, than from any other cause. -He expressed shortly and confusedly the determination of himself, and -of the little knot of princes and gentlemen by whom he was surrounded, -to acknowledge the title of Henry IV. to throne of France, and to -serve him with their whole souls, if he would renounce the Protestant -heresy, and reconcile himself to the church of Rome. If he refused to -do so, the Duke continued, it would be for the gentlemen, in whose -name he spoke, to consider whether they would not beg leave to retire -from his service. - -Apparently not knowing how to wind up his speech, he was deviating -into one of those long and unmeaning tirades with which unskilful -orators often attempt to let themselves drop by degrees, when he was -suddenly interrupted by the Duke of Epernon, who said, somewhat -sharply, "In your offers of service, my lord Duke, I beg you to omit -my name. I have much to do on my own lands, and have borne arms long -enough." - -"I will beg you to except me also," said the Count d'Aubin, who was -sitting near the Duke of Longueville, and rose to speak as soon as he -saw that Epernon had concluded. "I will not serve Henry King of -Navarre, and I trust that my reasons are good ones. As a Catholic, I -should think it treachery to my faith were I to attempt to establish a -heretic monarch upon the throne of this realm. Therefore, if the king -remains attached to the Huguenots, notwithstanding the eloquence of -Monsieur de Longueville, I cannot remain in his army; and if he be -suddenly converted by the arguments of my lord Duke, my faith in the -miracle will be too small to assure me that it will last. For myself, -gentlemen, I see no choice. If the king remain unchanged, he is a -heretic; were he to change suddenly, he would be a hypocrite; and in -neither case can I draw my sword in his behalf." - -There was something sneering and bitter in the tone of the Count -d'Aubin, which, though it made the Duke of Longueville, and others of -the undecided party, hate him, and inclined them more than before to -the service of Henry IV. yet rendered others, even better disposed -towards the monarch, afraid to answer; and, for a moment there was a -pause. Seeing that no one spoke, however, St. Real took a step forward -to the table, and, without the slightest degree of hesitation, -addressed the assembly, while his name passed from mouth to mouth, and -many an enquiring ear was turned to hear what one of the simple St. -Reals would say, after the speech of the sarcastic Count d'Aubin. - -"Gentlemen of France," he said, "my opinion, in many respects, -coincides with that of my cousin who has just spoken." D'Aubin, De -Sancy, and Biron, looked at him and each other in astonishment. "My -opinion," he repeated, "in many respects coincides with his; but, as -is very often the case with us, my conduct will be the direct reverse. -I think as he does, that to ask his Majesty to change his religion on -a sudden change of fortune, were to ask him to become a hypocrite; and -I should as soon think of requiring him to do so, in order to gain my -services, as he would think of requiring me to abandon my faith to -merit his favour. Let us be too just to do the one, and we may feel -sure that he is too just to do the other. The claims of his majesty, -King Henry IV. are known to us all. As the lineal descendant of St. -Louis, he is king of this realm of France, unless some of his acts -have been so black as to render him incapable of reigning. Now what -have his acts throughout life been up to this day, but noble, -generous, chivalrous, worthy to lead a nation of brave hearts upon the -path of honour? And shall we attempt to pry into his conscience? Shall -we demand that, by a sudden abjuration of his long-cherished belief, -he should stain that honour which he has ever held so pure and -spotless? The worst that the most zealous Catholic can apprehend--and -none is more zealous than I am--is that a Protestant monarch should -interfere with our faith. Let us not set him the example by -interfering with his, and take for a guarantee of his future conduct -the whole of his conduct that has gone before. We have, at this -moment, two claims upon us--the claims of our country and our -king,--both equally powerful on the hearts of Frenchmen, and happily -both in this instance leading us in the same direction. Our first duty -is to put an end to the factions which have torn this unhappy land, -and left her scarce a shadow of her former prosperity; to compel the -rebellious to submission, and teach the ambitious to limit their -expectations to their rights,--to bring back, in short, security, and -peace, and union to France. This can only be done by bending all our -energies to uphold the shaken throne, and with those good swords, -which have never yet been drawn in an unjust quarrel, to open a way -for our gallant and our rightful monarch to the seat and the power of -his ancestors. This, at least, is my determination; and I trust that I -shall see no one who aspires to honour during life, or glory after -death, fall from his duty at a moment when the safety of his country -and the throne of his king depend upon union, energy, and fidelity." - -"Well spoken, on my soul," cried Gontaut de Biron. "Well spoken, on my -soul! And if all here present act up to it, the monarchy is safe!" - -"That at least will I," rejoined De Sancy; "for I hold that to propose -any terms to his Majesty at this moment when--encompassed is we have -too fatally seen, by assassins, surrounded by difficulties and -dangers, and opposed by an ambitious faction--he comes unexpectedly to -a perilous throne, were base and ungenerous indeed. Let those who -will, join the party of the assassin; my voice and my sword are ready -for Henry IV." - -The speech of De Sancy was followed by one of those slight murmurs -which betoken a vacillation of opinion in a popular assembly. Each man -looked in the face of his neighbour; some smiled and nodded to the -speaker, as if in approbation of what he had said; some frowned and -bit their lips; some whispered eagerly to the persons next whom they -sat; and the cheek of the Count d'Aubin, as De Sancy denominated the -League "the party of the assassin," grew as red as fire, while the -veins in his temple might be seen swelling out through his clear dark -skin. - -There was a pause for a moment; but D'Aubin recovered himself quickly, -and said, "Methinks the three noble gentlemen who, not deigning to -take a seat amongst us, remain standing at the foot of the table, have -not come here to deliberate, but to announce their determination; and -if that determination were binding upon all the princes and nobles of -France, it would become us to submit and break up the council; but as -that is not exactly the case, I would propose that we should continue -our consultations, without yielding more than due weight to the veto -of Monsieur de Biron, the pithy sentences of the noble leader of the -Swiss, or to the speech of my worthy but somewhat inexperienced -cousin--a speech evidently got by heart." - -"It is got by heart, Philip d'Aubin," replied St. Real, opposing to -the sarcastic sneer of the Count d'Aubin a look of calm and dignified -reproof. "It is got by heart; for it comes from my heart, and the -actions of my hand shall justify it. As to my inexperience, what you -say is true,--I am somewhat inexperienced; and I would thank God for -it, did I believe that experience would ever debase me to take -advantage of a noble monarch's utmost need either to dictate terms -which he could not comply without dishonour, or to abandon his cause -for a selfish motive or a weak pretext." - -D'Aubin rose angrily from his seat, and, for a moment, it did seem -that everything like deliberation was to be merged in anger and -contention; but De Biron and the Dukes of Longueville and Epernon -interfered; and after, in some degree, restoring order, Monsieur -d'Epernon addressed the French nobles, and put an end to a meeting -from which no good could accrue. "Angry words, gentlemen," he said, -"can do no good, and are not at all required. We are not here to -determine any settled plan which is to be binding upon us all; but -each is as free as before to follow his own purposes and -determinations. However, as the communication of our various opinions -has produced some heat, I think it better that we should conclude a -discussion which seems to be fruitless. Let each of us follow his own -path. For my part, though I do not draw my sword against the king, yet -I cannot reconcile it to my conscience to fight the battles of an -excommunicated monarch against my brethren of the faith." - -Thus saying, he rose; and beckoning one or two of those on whom he -could rely, into one corner of the hall, he entered into conversation -with them; while the same conduct was followed by various other -persons in different parts of the room. - -St. Real and his companions, however, did not remain long to witness -this scene; for Marshal Biron laid his hand upon the arm of the young -noble, saying, "Come, Monsieur de St. Real; come, De Sancy! Let us to -the king. It is easy to see that he will need the consolation and -support of all that are faithful to him." Thus saying, he quitted the -chamber, followed by those to whom he spoke, and two or three others; -and, speaking a few words with one of the attendants, he was led on to -a large upper hall, where Henry IV. waited the result of the -deliberations which he was well aware were taking place around him; -the nature of which he knew, and the termination of which he feared, -but which he had no power to stop or to control. - -Almost alone, with only two attendants of an inferior class stationed -at the door, he was walking up and down the room in evident agitation. -The moment he saw De Biron, however, he stopped, and gazed for a -moment anxiously in his face; but the Marshal advanced at once, and -throwing himself at the king's feet, kissed respectfully the hand that -he held out to him. Henry instantly took him in his arms, exclaiming, -"Rise, rise, Biron! Tell me what tidings you bear?" And at the same -time he extended his hand to St. Real and De Sancy, who knelt and -pressed it to their lips. - -"The tidings I bear your Majesty from below," replied De Biron, "are, -I am afraid, not very satisfactory. Several, I fear, will fall off -from your Majesty, and several will be but lukewarm friends." - -"That I expect," replied the king; "but if you, Biron, stand fast by -me, on your shoulder will I lean, and defy all the factions in France -to shake me." - -"Thanks, sire, thanks!" replied De Biron, in his usual blunt tone. "Of -my fidelity and attachment your Majesty need have no doubt; and I -think," he added, "I think I can answer for the greater part of the -troops." - -"Then we are safe!" cried the king. "Then we are safe! What with my -own forces, and those that you can bring me, Biron, the Swiss under -Monsieur de Sancy here, and the fresh troops of Maine promised me by -my young friend St. Real, I will not fear anything, even though -D'Aumont and his division go over to the enemy." - -"I do not think he will, sire," replied Biron. "He is not the most -active of soldiers, but he is an honest and true-hearted man. De Rosny -told me but now that he was going to him, and I doubt not but, at the -first word, he will come to join your Majesty; but it might have been -better to have directed Rosny to speak with his officers, and bring -them over too, for D'Aumont will never think of it; and besides--" - -"He has not the whole hearts of his soldiers, like Biron," added the -king. "I thought of it, my friend, I thought of it, and begged De -Rosny to see what could be done. But who have we here? Oh! our cousins -of Longueville and Nevers; and Monsieur d'O, too, whom we hope -speedily to replace in his government of Paris, which has been -ill-governed enough certainly since he left it." - -As he spoke, a large body of French nobles, headed by the persons whom -he mentioned, entered the hall; and Monsieur de Biron and the others -who were with the king, forming a semicircle on either hand, the -gentlemen who had just arrived advanced, and one by one knelt and -kissed the monarch's hand. There was, however, a degree of gloom and -coldness in their countenances, which betokened no hearty wishes for -the welfare of him who had so suddenly been placed upon the throne. -When they had all saluted the king, Monsieur D'O, the titular governor -of Paris, advanced a step before the rest, and addressed the monarch -in the name of all. His tone was respectful, and his words well -chosen; but after proceeding to offer some faint congratulations to -the king on his accession to the throne, he stated that the fact of -his Majesty's adherence to the tenets of the Huguenots pained and -embarrassed many who were his faithful subjects and sincere -well-wishers; and then he proceeded boldly and unceremoniously to -propose that the monarch should reconcile himself to the Church of -Rome, and receive absolution for his past heresies, holding out but a -half-concealed threat, that if he did not comply with this sudden -proposal, the great body of the French nobles and princes of the blood -would be obliged to withdraw from the royal army. - -Henry heard him patiently and calmly; though for a moment, while he -was making his somewhat extraordinary request, one of those gay and -brilliant smiles, with which his countenance was so familiar on -ordinary occasions, passed over the king's lip and chequered the -gravity of his attention. "My noble cousins and gentlemen," he said in -reply, "I confess myself not a little astonished to find that you, who -are so strongly attached to your religion, should think me so little -attached to mine. It is true my attachment is more a matter of habit -than perhaps of reason; for, living as I have lived in the tented -field, and spending the greater part of my time between the council -chamber and the battle plain, I have had no opportunity of hearing -discussed the merit of those questions which unhappily divide the one -church from the other. Nevertheless, I should think myself base, -and--what is more to the purpose on the present occasion--you also -would think me base, if for any worldly advantage I, unconvinced, were -to sacrifice the religion in which I have been brought up. That, -gentlemen, is impossible. But still I am not so foolish as to say that -I will never abandon what is called the Reformed Faith; for, on the -contrary, I will zealously and diligently investigate the merits of -the arguments on both sides; and, if my conscience will allow me, will -take those steps which I well know would be pleasing to the great -majority of my subjects. Nevertheless, this must be the work of -conviction, not of interest; and I tell you candidly, that I must -have, at least, six months to hear, and ponder, and judge, ere I can -give you any determinate answer as to what my ultimate conduct in -these respects will be. In the meanwhile, believe me, I love you all -as my children, and will serve and protect you as such to the utmost -of my power; and should there be any one amongst you who has the heart -to leave his king at the moment his king most needs his service, let -him go in peace, and not be afraid, for I will serve him still, as far -as may be, even against his will." - -When the king ceased, there were one or two amongst the group of -nobles who looked as if they would fain have added something to the -speech of their orator; and it was evident the noble and dignified -manner in which Henry treated their absurd proposal was not without -effect upon any. Like all other bodies of men, however, there were -those amongst them destined to lead, and those only fitted to follow; -and the latter did not venture to act without the approbation of the -former. Bowing in silence then, the whole party retired, and were -immediately succeeded by the Baron de Rosny, afterwards famous as the -Duke of Sully, who approached with the Marechal d'Aumont. The latter -at once, and with graceful zeal in words and manner, tendered his -faith and homage to the king, and assured him that the officers under -his command would present themselves within an hour to swear -allegiance to their new monarch. He again was succeeded by another, in -whom St. Real instantly recognised the Duke d'Epernon, though he had -changed his garb within the last hour, and now appeared in deep -mourning. - -The keen eye of Henry IV. at once read his purpose in the countenance -of the Duke; and, preventing him from kneeling, he said, "Pause, my -cousin, and think what you are about to do. We will excuse your -bending the knee to-day, if it be not to be bent tomorrow." - -Though fantastic, and even effeminate in appearance, D'Epernon was -brave even to rashness, and by no means destitute of that calm and -dignified presence of mind which approaches near to greatness. Gravely -taking half a step back, he persisted in bending his knee, and kissed -the king's hand, replying, "My lord the king! your majesty's right to -the throne of France and to the homage of your subjects is -incontestable; and deeply do I regret that any circumstances, -religious or political, should lessen that zeal which the nobles of -France are so willing to display in behalf of their kings. But, to -avoid all subjects which it would be painful for your majesty to hear -and for me to speak, I come to crave leave to retire for a time to my -own lands, which have much need of their lord's presence. I am weary -of warfare, sire, somewhat anxious for repose, and my poor peasantry -require protection and assistance." - -"Well, cousin of Epernon," replied the monarch, "if you be really -disposed to imitate the great Roman and hold the plough, my service -shall not detain you; but let me trust that you are not about to -reverse the scriptural prophecy, and turn the ploughshare into a sword -in favour of new friends." - -"I need no sword, sire," replied the duke, "but that which I lately -proved beside your majesty at Tours; and be assured that if it be not -drawn in your service, it shall not be unsheathed against you." - -"Well, well!" said the king, with a sigh, "so be it, if it must be so. -Fare you well, fair cousin of Epernon! and may the harvest you are -going to reap have fewer thorns than that which is before me, I fear!" - -The duke bowed and withdrew; and Henry, turning to those who -surrounded him, proceeded with a sigh, "Let them go, gentlemen of -France, let them go," he said; "better a few firm friends, than a -discontented multitude. On you I repose my whole hopes; but we must -lose no time. My confidence in your judgment and in your affection is -unlimited; and therefore I send you forth amongst the mingled crowd of -friends and enemies which surrounds me in the camp, with no other -direction or command than this. Do the best you can for your king and -for your country. Rejoin me here again in the evening, to let me know -what has been done; by that time we shall have learned what troops -remain with us, and shall be able to determine upon our future -conduct." - -All the king's immediate attendants now took their leave and withdrew. -Biron and D'Aumont proceeded instantly to their several quarters. De -Sancy set off to insure that there was no tampering with the Swiss -under his command; and St. Real, returning to his lodging, called his -attendants about him, and ordering a certain number to mount with -speed, prepared to go in person, in order to bring up more rapidly the -troops he had left near Senlis. In the hurry and agitation of the last -few hours, his personal situation had been forgotten; but as he was -just about to mount his horse, the appearance of his page, Leonard de -Monte, recalled to his mind both the events of the preceding evening -and his own determination of questioning the boy upon that knowledge -of his inmost thoughts which Leonard seemed by some means to have -obtained. He had no time, however, at the moment to pursue such a -purpose, and after commanding him to remain at the _auberge_ till he -returned, he inquired if the boy knew where the Count d'Aubin's forces -were quartered. - -"They lie under the hill at the back of the park," replied the youth. -"Shall I show you the way?" - -"Quick! get a horse, then, and come," said St. Real. - -"I will run by your side, and be there ere a horse could be saddled," -said the page. St. Real assented; and proceeding in the direction -which had been pointed out, he rode on, determined to make one last -effort to recall his cousin from a path which he firmly believed would -lead to dishonour. - -When they had mounted the little hill, however, underneath which, as -the page had said, the Count d'Aubin's troops had been quartered, -nothing was to be seen in the meadow where their tents had lately -stood but one or two carts of the country, in which a small party of -soldiers were busily stowing the canvass dwellings wherein they had -lately made their abode, together with the spare arms and baggage of -the larger body of troops just gone. - -As St. Real halted and gazed, the sound of a clarion at a little -distance struck his ear, and made him turn his eyes to the opposite -slope. Over the brow of the hill, upon the road which led towards -Paris, appeared horse and foot filing away with their arms glittering -in the summer sun; and the distance was not sufficiently great to -prevent St. Real from recognising the retainers of the house of Aubin, -joined to another body apparently little inferior in number. The step -thus taken by his cousin was too decided to admit a hope of change; -and bidding the boy, who was gazing steadfastly in the same direction, -return to St. Cloud, he resumed his own path, and rode on with all -speed towards Senlis. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -We must now once more change the scene, and lead the reader back into -the heart of Paris, where, on the very morning which witnessed, at St. -Cloud, the events we have just been describing, the Duke of Mayenne -held a conference with some of his principal officers, and some of the -leaders of the faction called the _Seize_. It was at an early hour, -and he had already given directions for re-establishing in some degree -the rule of law and justice within the city of Paris; which -directions, though spoken with a tone that left no reply, were -listened to by those whose power and fortunes were founded upon tumult -and disorganization, with gloomy and discontented countenances. - -"And now, gentlemen," continued Mayenne, turning to his own officers, -"having taken measures to restore order to the city, it becomes me to -adopt some means for preserving order in the camp. I have often -reprobated in your presence the system of continual skirmishes and -defiances which are going on in the _Pré aux Clercs_; and yet I hear -that no later than yesterday evening a cartel was exchanged between -Maroles and one of the adversary, called Malivaut, I think. The -defiance given, I do not choose to interfere; but this once over, I -will permit these things no longer: we thus lose some of our best -officers and bravest soldiers, without the slightest advantage to our -cause." - -"They have gained us a great advantage this morning, my lord," replied -the Chevalier d'Aumale, who had entered just as the Duke began to -speak. "That same _coup de lance_ between Maroles and Delisle Malivaut -has obtained intelligence for which your highness would have given a -spy ten thousand crowns had he brought it you." - -"How so? how so?" demanded the Duke of Mayenne. "Crowns are not so -rife in our treasury, Aumale." - -"Nevertheless you would have given the sum I mention," rejoined the -chevalier; "but I will tell you, my lord, how it happened. Maroles and -Malivaut met as appointed, and we stood back at a hundred yards on one -side, while the enemy remained under the old oak where Malivaut had -armed himself. As soon as the two were mounted, and the trumpet -sounded, they spurred on, and both charged their lances well: the -shock was smart, and Maroles was beat flat back upon his horse's -crupper. I thought he was unhorsed; but somehow it had happened that -Malivaut's visor had been ill-rivetted, Maroles' lance struck it just -at the second bar, drove it in, and entering between the eye and the -nose, broke sharp off; leaving the iron in the wound. For a moment we -did not see that he was hurt, for he sat his horse stiffly; but the -next instant, as he turned to get back to the oak, his strength gave -way, and he fell. Maroles instantly sprang to the ground and made him -prisoner, and both parties crying truce, ran up. A glance at his face, -however, showed us that death would soon take him out of our hands, -and, in fact, he spoke but two sentences after. The first was, 'Give -me a confessor!' The next, 'I care not to live longer, since my king -has been murdered!'" - -"What! what!" exclaimed Mayenne, starting and gazing steadfastly on -Aumale. - -"Ay, my lord, even so!" replied the chevalier. "_Murdered_ was the -word; and we heard from the others who stood round, that Henry of -Valois died last night of a wound given him by a Jacobin the day -before." - -Mayenne clasped his hands; and, looking up, exclaimed, "Guise! my -brother! at length thou art avenged!" And taking off the black scarf -which he had worn ever since the death of his brother, the Duke of -Guise, he cast it from him, adding, "So Henry of Valois is dead, the -base, effeminate, soulless tyrant! But you have not told me how it -happened, D'Aumale. Let me hear the particulars! Who ended the days of -the last of those weak brothers? Was it one of his own creatures, -unable to support any longer the daily sight of his crimes? or was it -some zealot of our party, who ventured the doubtful act for a great -object?" - -The satisfaction which he derived from the event was so unconcealed, -and his surprise at hearing the intelligence so unaffected and -natural, that although those were days of suspicion, no one ventured -to suspect, for a moment, that Mayenne had any previous knowledge of -the intrigues which ended in the death of Henry III. - -"Good faith! my lord," replied Aumale, "I can tell you no more than I -have already told. The friends of Malivaut let out the secret, that -the king had been stabbed by a Jacobin friar, and died of his wounds; -but we could not expect them to enter into any minute particulars. I -have still more good news, however, my lord. Ere I quitted the ground, -a servant of the gay Count d'Aubin came up, and besought me to obtain -for his master a pass for the morning, adding, that by noon, D'Aubin, -with seven hundred men, horse and foot together, would be at the -outposts on the side of St. Denis, with the purpose of joining the -Union." - -These tidings did not appear to surprise Mayenne so much as the -former; but he seemed well pleased, nevertheless. "D'Aubin is better -than his word," he said, "both in regard to time and numbers. He fixed -three days, but I suppose the death of Henry has hurried his -movements. How comes he to enter by St. Denis, though? It is leading -his troops a tremendous round! There surely can be no foul play, -D'Aumale! Are you sure the servant was his?" - -"Quite sure, my lord," replied Aumale, "for the fellow was once my own -_ecuyer de main_; and, besides, he gave a reason for taking that -round. 'The Huguenot army,' he said, 'was advanced as far as Meudon, -occupying both banks of the river, and the ground as far as -Beauregard; D'Aubin was afraid of being stopped, and having to cut his -way through, if he did not make a _detour_.'" - -"Nevertheless, Aumale," replied the Duke, "let us be upon our guard. -Strengthen the posts towards St. Denis, and bid Nemours take his -regiment to meet and do honour to the new comers. D'Aubin I can trust, -for he plays for a great stake; but he has not seven hundred men with -him; and though he may very likely have brought over some other leader -to our cause, yet it is as well to be prepared, and to be able to -repel force by force, in case Henry of Navarre should present himself -instead of Philip d'Aubin." - -Measures of precautions were accordingly taken; but at the hour -appointed, the Count d'Aubin and one or two inferior leaders, who had -joined their forces to his, presented themselves at the outposts of -the army of the League; and once having placed their troops within the -limits of the garrison of Paris, so as to be out of danger, D'Aubin -and his companions rode into the city, followed by merely a small -train of common attendants. His reception from the Duke of Mayenne was -as gracious as the circumstances had led him to expect; and the news -which he bore of the doubts and differences in the royal camp not only -removed from the leaders of the League every fear of attack, but -suggested the hope of obtaining some striking success by assuming the -offensive. Mayenne, however, though a skilful general, and a bold, -decided, and courageous man, was wanting in that great quality, -activity. Much time was spent in preparation; and it was not till the -third day after the king's death, that it was determined to march a -body, consisting of ten thousand of the best troops of the League, by -a circuitous route to Meulan, and to take up a position in the rear of -the king's army, thus cutting off his retreat upon either Normandy or -the south, and exposing him, if he held his present camp, to be -attacked at once in front and flank. The command of the force destined -for this important expedition was divided between the Chevalier -d'Aumale and the Count d'Aubin, whose skill, courage, and activity, -were undoubted, and whose zeal in favour of the League, and against -the Royalists, was likely to be the more energetic from the fact of -his having just joined the one and abandoned the others. The march was -ordered to commence the next morning early; but late in the evening, -when Mayenne, seated alone in his cabinet, was busily preparing his -last written order for the two officers in command, the Count d'Aubin -was suddenly announced, at least an hour before the Duke expected him. -He was instantly admitted, however, and advanced to the table at which -Mayenne was sitting, with one of those smiles upon his lips, which -showed that his errand had its share of bitterness. "Well, my lord," -he said, "I come to save you unnecessary trouble. You may lay down the -pen; for--as I thought we should be--we are too late." - -"How so?" demanded the Duke of Mayenne. "We cannot be too late, if -they have not bribed Saint Mark. The place could hold out a year." - -"They have not bribed him," replied D'Aubin, "but they have done just -as good; they have outwitted him. Yesterday, towards five o'clock, -Rosny, and some others, engaged the thick-headed fool in a parley, and -while they amused him with fair words, who should present himself at -the bridge but the Marechal d'Aumont, as if merely to pass the water, -according to convention; for St. Mark's forces have never been -sufficient to defend the bridge. Well, when the troops were in the -midst, they thought they might as well walk into the first open gate -they saw, which happened to be that of the castle. So now Meulan is in -the hands of the Huguenots; and we may save ourselves the trouble of a -march which can produce no results." - -"Saint Mark is a fool," said Mayenne, as calmly as if nothing -vexatious had happened: "when we retake Meulan, we must put some -person of better understanding in it; and at present we must change -our plans. What think you, D'Aubin? will the Bearnois retreat upon -Normandy and the sea coast, or will he fall back upon Maine and -Touraine?" - -D'Aubin paused thoughtfully--so long, indeed, that the Duke added, -"Speak! speak, D'Aubin! I know no one whose foresight is more shrewd -than yours. Why do you hesitate?" - -"To tell the truth, my lord," replied D'Aubin, "I paused, considering -how I should answer; for your interests lead me one way, and my own -keenest wishes would make me go another. Did I choose in this instance -to consider myself, before either country, or party, or truth, or -honesty, as nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand of your -faithful followers would do, I should answer at once, that the -Navarrese will march upon Maine; but we are all playing too great -stakes at this moment for trifling, and my sincere opinion is, that -Henry will fall back on Lower Normandy." - -It was now Mayenne's turn to muse. "I see not how it affects you, -D'Aubin, whether I am led to believe the Bearnois will turn his steps -the one way or the other," he replied. "Tell me what interests have -you therein more than other friends of the Catholic faith.--But first -let me hear your reasons for judging that Normandy will be the -direction of his march." - -"For three strong reasons, my good lord," replied D'Aubin; "because -the Normans are well affected towards him; because he expects succour -from England; and because he is a good soldier. The first he will soon -find out, if he do not know it already; the English troops must land -on the Norman coast; and his knowledge of war will not suffer him to -leave such advantages behind." - -"And now, D'Aubin," said the Duke, after listening attentively to his -reasons, "let me hear why, if you considered your own interests more -than mine, you should desire me to believe that Harry of Navarre will -march upon Maine and Touraine?" - -"Simply, because I could then show you the best of all reasons for at -once fulfilling your promise in regard to the hand of Mademoiselle de -Menancourt," replied D'Aubin. - -"My promise _shall_ be fulfilled, Count," replied Mayenne, with some -emphasis. "Fear not that Charles of Mayenne will shrink from the -performance of his engagements; but you are somewhat too pressing. You -cannot expect me to employ force in such a matter; and you have as yet -given yourself no time to obtain, by gentleness and persuasion, that -consent which the poor girl seems somewhat reluctant to grant." - -D'Aubin coloured a good deal, piqued by the terms of commiseration in -which Mayenne spoke of her who had so deeply wounded his vanity; but -he was a great deal too wise to let his displeasure have vent on the -present occasion. "My lord duke," he replied, "I should have thought -your highness knew woman better. This is all caprice. During her -father's life, Eugenie showed no such reluctance; and it was but some -slight and unintentional offence on my part which first made her -declare she would not fulfil the engagement between us. Once having -said it, she makes it a matter of consistency to adhere to her -purpose; though I could very well see, in our interview of yesterday, -that her feelings in these respects were much altered. As long as she -is suffered to make a point of vanity of her refusal, she will -persist, even contrary to her own wishes; but once let her be my wife, -and I will make her contented and happy, I will be answerable for it." - -Mayenne shook his head, observing dryly, "Her reluctance did not seem -to me much shaken when I spoke with her yesterday, Monsieur d'Aubin; -but still I do not see how this question is affected by Henry's march -upon Maine." - -"Were he likely to execute such a march, I would soon show you how, my -lord," replied D'Aubin. "As it is, it matters little. However, the -simple fact is this: the lands of Menancourt lie contiguous to my own; -and did Henry of Navarre march thither, it would be absolutely -necessary to your best interest that I should instantly become the -husband of Eugenie, and set out for Maine, armed with power to bring -all the retainers of her father in aid of the union. Full seven -hundred men, trained to arms, and caring little which party they join, -are lying idle in the villages and hamlets there; and if Henry reaches -Le Mans before the husband of Eugenie de Menancourt, those men will be -arrayed against the union instead of in favour of it. My worthy cousin -of St. Real, who is much loved amongst the peasantry, is not a man to -stand upon any ceremonies in serving a cause which he thinks just; and -it would but little surprise me, to find the vassals of De Menancourt -marching under the banners of St. Real. But as I hold it certain that -the Huguenots will retire upon Normandy, the matter is not so pressing -that we cannot wait a few days longer, to allow your highness's -notions of delicacy full time to tire themselves out, by doubling like -a pack of beagles after a woman's caprices." - -There was something in the reasoning of D'Aubin which seemed to affect -Mayenne much more than even the Count himself had expected. Rising -from his seat, the Duke strode up and down the room for a moment or -two, as if not a little embarrassed how to act; then, turning suddenly -to his companion, he said--"You hold it certain, then, D'Aubin, that -the Bearnois will fall back on Normandy and the sea? Hold it certain -no longer!" he added, taking from a portfolio, which lay on the table -at which he had been writing, an unsealed letter, and placing it in -D'Aubin's hands. "Read that, D'Aubin, read that! and you will soon see -that you are mistaken. There you see De Rosny himself, under the -king's dictation, writes to the Count de Soissons to tell him, that if -he will advance to Chateau Gontier, or even as far as Le Mans, Henry -will meet him there within fifteen days. Mark, also, he lays out the -line of march which they intend to pursue,--by Meulan, Mantes, Dreux, -Verneuil, and Mortagne." - -"May not this have been thrown out to deceive us?" demanded D'Aubin. - -"No," replied Mayenne. "No; it was taken upon the person of Monsieur -de Gailon last night, and they would not have risked a man of such -importance with a letter which was not of the utmost consequence." - -"Well, then, my lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, returning him the letter, -with a calm and well satisfied smile, "I trust that all our purposes -will be answered. Henry has committed a fault, of which you, of -course, will take advantage." - -"No immediate advantage can ensue," replied the Duke. "It was the -knowledge of these facts which made me so eager to push a strong force -upon Meulan; but as that fool St. Mark has suffered himself to be -deceived, Henry's line of march is secure. What you say of Maine, -however, is of importance, and must be thought of farther." - -"By your good leave, my lord," replied D'Aubin, somewhat sharply, -"methinks it needs no farther thought at all. Either you must let the -retainers of Menancourt be raised and marched for the use and benefit -of Henry of Navarre, calling himself King of France, or I must be the -husband of the fair heiress of Maine; and before this time to-morrow -night must be on my horse's back with a hundred stout cavaliers behind -me, riding like the wind towards Chateau du Loir. The road by Chartres -is open, and all that side of the country in our favour. In three days -I shall be in Maine; and if I cannot gather together forces sufficient -to make head against the Bearnois, I will at least do something to -impede his march, and will join you with all the troops I can raise, -wherever you give me a rendezvous." - -Mayenne again walked up and down the room, knitting his brow and -biting his lips with a degree of emotion which showed an evident -distaste to the proposal of his companion. D'Aubin gazed upon him with -not the most placable look, understanding the nature of his feelings, -and not a little displeased to see a disposition to delay the -fulfilment of the promise made to him; but at the same time feeling a -secret triumph in his heart at the concatenation of circumstances -which would compel the Duke of Mayenne, from political motives, to -grant that which he, D'Aubin, thought ought to have been willingly -accorded to his own merits and services. - -"My lord," he cried, with a somewhat bitter laugh, after gazing upon -the Duke for two or three minutes, "I am sorry to see you hesitate -upon a matter in which both policy and justice should make you decide -at once. Your unconditional promise has been given, that Eugenie de -Menancourt shall be my bride; and circumstances have arisen, which -render it as necessary to you as agreeable to me that she should -become so immediately. In regard to these circumstances, I have dealt -with you honestly, and have done what you know there is scarcely -another follower that you have would do,--given you advice contrary to -my own interest and wishes. Now, my lord----" - -"Well, well!" interrupted Mayenne, "it must even be as you say, -D'Aubin. There is no other resource; but remember, in wishing to find -one, I am not influenced by any desire to evade a promise made to you, -but solely and simply by the hope of inducing Mademoiselle de -Menancourt, by persuasion, entreaty, and remonstrance, to fulfil her -father's engagement, and thus spare me the pain of doing what I feel -to be harsh, uncourteous, and unknightly." - -"Your lordship is mighty delicate in all this," replied D'Aubin; "but -I am not so much so. A little wholesome compulsion will do this proud -beauty no harm. Proud I may well call her; for, proud of her wealth, -her loveliness, and her rank, she thinks, it seems, that she is to be -treated in a different manner from every other woman in France; and I -am not sorry that, in the very fact of our marriage, that proud spirit -should be a little humbled, which would certainly render her not the -most yielding or obedient of wives." - -Mayenne bit his lip. "I have never seen anything in her, Monsieur -d'Aubin," he said, "but gentleness and sweetness. Determined she -certainly is upon one point--her personal objection to yourself. What -cause you have given her for such objection I know not, and shall not -inquire, as my promise to yourself, and great state necessity, compel -me to act in a manner which no other circumstances could excuse. Now -mark me, Monsieur d'Aubin; what I intend to do is this, to yield you -my whole authority to bring about your marriage with Eugenie de -Menancourt to-morrow evening. There is a chapel in the house where she -lives, and at a certain hour my own confessor shall be there, ready to -perform the ceremony. But still remember, that I can hardly hold such -a marriage to be legal, if she persists to the last in opposing it; -and I must take measures to guard against doing aught that may either -affect my own honour and reputation, draw upon me the censures of the -church, or infringe the laws I am called upon for the time to defend -and uphold. Under these circumstances, I will write down the exact -terms and conditions on which I consent to what you propose. If -political motives alone move you to press the marriage so hastily, -what I require will be easily conceded. If otherwise, I say No! and -will try no means of compulsion till all other efforts have failed." - -Thus saying, Mayenne wrote down a few words on a slip of paper, and -handed it to the Count d'Aubin, who gazed on it, while the shadows of -many a quick passion flitted over his countenance. Thrice with a -frown, he lifted his eyes to the face of Mayenne; but all that he -beheld there was calm, stern determination; and, after again reading -the paper, he replied, "Well, I consent, because I doubt not, my lord, -that when she finds the matter inevitable, she will yield, even if not -with a good grace; but if we were to set out for Chartres on the -following day, it would surely be time enough for--" - -"No, Monsieur d'Aubin, no;" replied Mayenne: "the plan which I have -drawn out must be followed exactly. I will myself be present at the -ceremony; and I require that you sign that paper to guard against -misunderstanding on either side, otherwise I stir no farther in the -affair. Are you contented with this arrangement?" - -"Perfectly, my lord," replied D'Aubin, signing the paper with a smile. -"I merely thought that, by delaying the marriage till the following -morning, I and you, and your noble sister of Montpensier, might, -perhaps, have more time to reason her out of her prejudices; but, as -you say, it will after all be better tomorrow night, for the only -danger of interruption on my journey lies in the neighbourhood of -Paris, and it will be better to take our departure under cover of the -darkness. As for the rest, let us but show this fair lady that it is -inevitable, and I will engage that she shall soon make up her mind to -it. For this purpose, my lord, let me beseech you to furnish me with a -billet to her, under your own hand, telling her what we have -determined, couched in what courteous terms you will, but sufficiently -explicit to let her know that there is no chance of evasion." - -"Perhaps you are right," said Mayenne, "perhaps you are right; but -nevertheless, D'Aubin, try all gentle means. You are not one, as far -as ever I have heard, to fail in persuasion, when you choose to use -your eloquence against a woman's heart." - -D'Aubin smiled, but replied, "Nevertheless, my lord, it goes somewhat -against the grain to flatter, and to soothe, and to beseech, when one -is treated with scorn, and has, at the same time, the right to -command; but still, fear not; I will do my best; and, if ever woman -was won with fair words and soft entreaties, Eugenie de Menancourt -shall come willingly to the altar; but, to give those entreaties -greater force, it will be necessary to show her, by your handwriting, -that it is not from want of power that I use the gentler before the -harsher means." - -Mayenne took up the pen, but mused for many minutes ere he put it to -the paper, and even then wrote no less than three billets before he -could satisfy himself in a species of composition to which he was not -accustomed. At length, abandoning all formal excuses, he contented -himself with simply announcing to the unhappy Eugenie de Menancourt, -that motives of importance to the state compelled him to require her -without farther hesitation to fulfil her father's engagement to the -Count d'Aubin; and that he had appointed the hour of nine on the -succeeding evening for the celebration of her marriage. - -"There!" he said, as he handed the note to D'Aubin--"There, sir Count! -Seldom has my hand so unwillingly traced a few lines as to-night. But -I will send my sister Catherine early in the morning to soften the -matter to the poor girl; and now, farewell! for I have matters of much -import to attend to." - -D'Aubin took the note, and before he noticed the hint to withdraw, -read it over attentively, to satisfy himself that it was such as he -could wish, and then folding it up again with a triumphant smile, he -uttered a few words of thanks and took his leave. Ere long, however, -those feelings of triumph died away; and other sensations took their -place. His pride had been wounded, his vanity insulted, and many of -his worldly prospects endangered by the steadfast rejection of Eugenie -de Menancourt; but his heart was not so hardened as he himself -believed it to be, nor as it appeared to others, in the fierce pursuit -of his object; and when he turned away from the cabinet of Mayenne, -and took his path homeward, he asked himself whether after all, he -should make use of the cruel power he possessed; he asked himself -whether, for the sake of humbling a fair and innocent girl, and of -gratifying his vanity by triumphing over her opposition, he could -resist the tears, and entreaties, and reproaches of a being whom he -had been accustomed to regard with tenderness, if not with love; -whether he should cause the unhappiness of her whole after days, and -at the same time unite himself, against her will, to a woman whose -dislike would only be increased by the force that was put upon her -inclinations. Even while he revolved these ideas, the memory of one -that he had long--ay, that he still loved, was wakened by the other -thoughts which struggled in his bosom; and although he had -contemplated the deed he was about to commit a thousand times before, -and fully made up his mind to it, he now shrunk with cold and chilly -repugnance at the idea of placing between himself and her who -possessed the only stronghold of his affections, the impassable -barrier of his union with another. All these feelings leagued -together, and for a time made head against his less generous purposes; -but there were difficulties in retreating, which could hardly be -overcome; and as he reached the house in which he had fixed his -dwelling at Paris, he thought, "I will sleep over these new doubts, -and decide to-morrow." - -When he entered, however, he found Albert of Wolfstrom and several gay -companions, waiting to sup with him, and to bid him farewell, ere he -set out upon the expedition against Meulan, for which they still -thought he was destined on the morrow. D'Aubin despised them all, but -nevertheless he sat down with them, and drank deep. Dice succeeded to -wine; and when the Count rose from table, he had no resource, but to -wed Eugenie de Menancourt, or to descend more than one step in the -scale of society. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -If every minute event which took place in the beginning of August, -1589, was matter of importance to the inhabitants of Paris, a thousand -times more deep, intense, and thrilling than that experienced by any -other person, was the interest taken by Eugenie de Menancourt in all -that passed at that period. Her happiness, her misery for life, hung -upon the die which other hands were destined to throw; and without the -possibility of aiding herself in the slightest degree of changing the -fate that awaited her, or arresting its progress for a moment, she was -obliged to abide the unknown result in the power of people, whose -purposes she neither knew nor could control. Every rumour, every -sound, created some new sensation in her bosom. Every change, where -change was constant, either raised a momentary hope, or cast her back -into the depth of apprehension. The distant roar of the artillery, the -march of the troops through the streets, the galloping of messengers -and couriers, the military parade, even the processions of the clergy, -as they proceeded from shrine to shrine, petitioning for the aid of -God to support them in rebellion, and encourage them in assassination, -all agitated and alarmed her, till at length, her mind fell into that -state in which terror has so much the predominance, that every fresh -tidings are anticipated as tidings of sorrow. The news of the death of -the king, and the particulars of the manner in which that foul act was -perpetrated, struck her with horror and despair, as showing to what -length the men in whose hands she was placed dared to go in pursuit of -the objects of their party. Scarcely, however, had she time to think -over this event, when another, more deeply and personally painful to -herself, banished all other feelings but anxiety for her future -destiny. - -One morning suddenly, the Count d'Aubin was announced, and, hardly -waiting to see whether his visit were or were not acceptable, he -followed the servant into her presence. The result of their meeting we -have already seen in his conference with Mayenne; but either vanity or -policy had induced him to distort the truth, when he had asserted that -Eugenie de Menancourt had shown the slightest symptom of vacillating -in her determination against him. - -From his words and his manner, she had soon learned that he had joined -the party of the League, and that he considered all the authority and -influence of Mayenne at his command, in support of his suit towards -her; and perhaps the fear of irritating him, and driving him on to use -the power he possessed to the utmost, might make her more gentle in -her language, and less disposed to express the reprobation and dislike -she entertained towards him, than would have been the case had he -persisted in his pursuit under other circumstances. But Eugenie was -too noble, too candid, too sincere, to suffer him to believe, for one -moment, that her feelings would ever change towards him. She was -gentle, but she was firm; and D'Aubin, when he left her, was, perhaps, -the more mortified to find, from her calmness, as well as -determination, that she was influenced against him by no temporary -pique, by no fit of passion or indignation, as he had represented the -matter to others, and tried to regard it himself; but that positively -and certainly, he who had thought that her heart was at his command -whenever he chose to demand it, had never caused it to beat one pulse -more rapidly; that he had never been loved, and was now contemned and -disliked. - -Although during his stay he had employed persuasion and entreaty, and -all the arts that none knew better how to use than himself, there had -still been in his tone that consciousness of power and authority which -alarmed Eugenie for the result; and with a trembling hand she wrote a -few words to the fair Beatrice of Ferrara, beseeching her to come to -her aid, determined as she was to risk any thing in order to escape -from her present situation. Fate, however, ever overrules our best -efforts; and, as if disdaining to cast away the greater exertions of -its almighty power to thwart our petty schemes, contents itself with -throwing some trifling stumbling-block in our way--some idle, -insignificant trifle, over which our pigmy plans fall prostrate in -their course. The servant whom Eugenie had charged with the delivery -of her note returned, and brought her word that Beatrice had gone out -on horseback to witness the movements of the Royalist army in their -retreat, an amusement worthy of her bold and fearless spirit. The -lady's attendants, however, had informed him, the servant said, that -she would be back long before nightfall; and Eugenie waited and -counted the anxious moments till the daylight waned, and the shadows -of evening fell over the earth. - -"Beatrice must soon be here now," she thought; but moment after -moment, and hour after hour, went by, without the appearance of her -she waited for. At length, giving up hope for that night, and wearied -with wearing expectation, Eugenie retired to rest; but it was rest -broken by fears and anxieties; and early on the succeeding morning she -was up, and watching eagerly for the coming of her friend, whose bold -counsels and skilful aid might, she trusted, give her courage to -undertake, and power to execute, some plan for her own deliverance. - -Watching from the large projecting window we have mentioned, she was -not long before she beheld one of the carved and gilded equipages of -the day turn into the court-yard of her own dwelling, and in a few -minutes after the door of the saloon was opened to give admission to a -visitor. But the countenance that presented itself was that of Madame -de Montpensier, not of Beatrice of Ferrara; and the heart of Eugenie -de Menancourt sunk at an occurence, which though not unusual, she felt -in the present instance could bode her no good. - -The conversation which now took place may easily be divined, from the -conference between Mayenne and the Count d'Aubin. We shall therefore -not repeat it here, it being sufficient to say, that when about an -hour afterwards, D'Aubin himself entered the saloon, he found Madame -de Montpensier rising to depart, and Eugenie de Menancourt, with her -face buried in her hands, weeping in hopeless bitterness of heart. - -Lifting her shoulders with an emphatic shrug, Madame de Montpensier -quitted the room in silence, and D'Aubin stood for a moment gazing -upon the fair unhappy girl whom his ungenerous pursuit had reduced to -such a state, with a variety of passions warring in his breast, in a -manner which it would be difficult to describe. After a brief pause, -Eugenie withdrew her hands from her face and turned her tearful eyes -upon him. As she looked, a sort of involuntary shudder passed over her -frame, and she again pressed her hands upon her eyes for one moment; -then, rising from her chair, she advanced direct to where he stood, -and cast herself upon her knees at his feet. - -"Philip d'Aubin," she said, "you were once generous and kind of -heart:--nay, nay, hear me!" she continued, as he endeavoured to raise -her. "Hear me, I beseech you; for my happiness or misery--perhaps my -life or death--depend upon this moment." - -"Mademoiselle de Menancourt," replied D'Aubin, "I can hear nothing, I -can attend to nothing, while you there remain in a posture unbecoming -to us both--for you to assume and for me to suffer. Rise, I entreat -you!" - -"No, no!" she replied, clasping her hands earnestly. "I will not, I -cannot rise till you have heard me. Have I not used every other means? -have I not employed every other form of entreaty without avail? and I -now kneel at your feet to beseech you to spare yourself and me misery -interminable. I have told you, and with bitter regret have I been -obliged to tell you, that I cannot love you as woman should love her -husband; and I did not resolve to tell you so till I had struggled -with my own heart,--till I had combated all my own feelings,--in -order, if possible, to fulfil what had been a wish of my father. I -struggled, I combated in vain, Monsieur d'Aubin; for the more I did -so, the more I found that my peace of mind required me to take a -decided part,--that honour and justice towards you required me to tell -you that I could not, that I would not, be your wife. Why, why -persecute me thus, Monsieur d'Aubin?" she continued; "you do not love -me--you have never loved me; and, under such circumstances, how can -you expect me to love you? Why not turn to any of those who will not -only consider themselves as honoured by your suit, but who, much -better suited than I am to your views, your habits, and your feelings, -have it in their power to return your affection, and to meet you, as I -doubt not you deserve to be met, with love for love?" - -"You mistake me altogether, Eugenie," said D'Aubin, raising her almost -forcibly, and leading her back to her seat; "I do love you; and I -trust that, though you doubt your own feelings at present, you will -find it not so difficult, when you are my wife, to feel towards me in -such a manner as to be happy yourself and to render me so." - -"Do not deceive yourself, Monsieur d'Aubin!" exclaimed Eugenie. "I do -not doubt my own feelings! I am but too sure of them! I do not love -you, I cannot love you, any more than you love me; and if you persist -in your pursuit, you do it warned of what are my sentiments towards -you, and assured that those sentiments will but become more repugnant, -in proportion to the degree of constraint used towards me." - -"Nay, nay," replied D'Aubin, willing as far as possible to use gentle -means, and try those powers of persuasion which he believed himself, -not unjustly, to possess; "nay, nay, dear Eugenie, you do me wrong -altogether; believe me, I do love you sincerely. I know that I have -acted foolishly, wrongly towards you; I know that, prompted by vanity, -and the gay and roving disposition of youth, flattered and courted, -idle, perhaps, conceited, I appeared to neglect and undervalue the -jewel that was offered to me in the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt. -But, believe me, dear Eugenie, that it was not that I failed to esteem -that jewel at its full and highest price; it was but that foolishly I -thought it my own beyond all risk. Consider in what school I had been -brought up,--consider the lightness and fickleness of all by whom I -was surrounded; forgive me the errors and the follies that are past -away for ever, and give me an opportunity of proving to you that they -are deeply regretted, and will never be renewed. My whole life, my -whole thoughts, my whole endeavours, shall be devoted to wipe out the -evil impression which a few acts of folly have left upon your mind; -and surely the unceasing devotion and tenderness of one who will never -forget that he wronged you, and that you forgave him, will be -sufficient to atone for errors which proceeded more from idle levity -than from evil purpose." - -"Monsieur d'Aubin," said Eugenie, sadly, "I accuse you of nothing, I -blame you for nothing. What might have been my feelings towards you, -had your conduct been different towards me, I cannot tell--I cannot -even guess: but you greatly deceive yourself if you think that my -sentiments towards you originate in anger, or mortified vanity, or -wounded pride. I must be candid with you to the very utmost, and tell -you that I never felt towards you anything which could enable your -conduct to others to inflict one pang upon me. I have never loved you, -Monsieur d'Aubin, and the only effect of your behaviour has been to -teach me that I never can love you." - -"You have inflicted upon me that mortifying reiteration, somewhat -often," replied D'Aubin; "and perhaps I am not wrong when I ask, -whether the want of love towards your promised husband in the past and -the present, has not originated in love for another?" - -Eugenie's cheek crimsoned to a hue deeper than the rose; and something -between confusion and indignation kept her silent. D'Aubin drew his -own conclusions; but, strange to say, though those conclusions were as -bitter as well might be, they only added fire to the fierceness of his -pursuit. His cheek, however, reddened also; but it was with the -struggle of anger, and interest, pride and vanity; and he went on: "I -see I am right, Mademoiselle de Menancourt, and am sorry to see it. -Nevertheless, my confidence in you is such, that I entertain not the -slightest doubt, that however unwisely you may have entertained such -feelings hitherto, you will crush them with wise precaution, and bury -them in speedy oblivion, when you become my wife. Nor am I inclined to -resign my hopes of teaching you to change all such opinions by my own -conduct, and of bringing you to love me, when your duty shall be -engaged to second all my efforts." - -Eugenie saw that her fate was determined, as far as the Count d'Aubin -had power to govern it. She saw that with him entreaties would be -ineffectual, and tears of no avail. Nothing then remained but -resolution; and although she knew not what protection the law of her -native land held out to one under her circumstances, and was too well -aware that in the city where she was detained, popular violence had -broken through all the restraints of society; yet she determined that -no weakness or want of energy on her own part should favour the -oppression to which she was subjected. As soon as she perceived that -the humble supplications to which she had descended fell as vainly -upon the ear of the Count d'Aubin as the song of the charmer upon the -deaf adder, her whole manner changed; and, assuming the same look of -unconquerable determination which he had put on towards her, she -replied, "My duty, Sir Count d'Aubin, will never either second or -prompt any efforts on my part to feel differently towards you than I -do now; for I never will be, and never can be, your wife. The arm of -power may drag me to the altar, and a mockery of religious service may -be read between us; but there, as here, my voice shall steadfastly -pronounce the same refusal; the ring, with which you think to wed me, -shall be trampled under my feet; no contract shall ever be signed by -me; and as long as I have strength to lift my voice, I will appeal -against the tyranny which oppresses me. Moreover, let me warn you, -that every step that you take forward in this brutal and ungentlemanly -course will but increase those feelings which you have this day -striven in vain to remove, till indifference becomes dislike, and -dislike grows into detestation." - -"You will think better of this, Eugenie," said D'Aubin, surprised and -struck by energy and vehemence, such as he had never witnessed in her -before. "We are destined to be united, and be assured that nothing can -make a change in this arrangement. Let us not meet, then, at enmity. -You will think better of this." - -"Never," replied Eugenie, "never! You have roused a spirit in my -bosom, Count d'Aubin, that you knew not existed there--that I knew not -myself till this hour. But I feel that it will bear me through -everything; and I tell you boldly, and at once, that I would -infinitely rather die, were death within my choice, this moment, than -be the wife of Philip d'Aubin." - -D'Aubin bit his lip, and casting his eyes upon the ground, paused for -a moment in deep thought, his resolutions and purposes shaken by what -he had heard, and his mind once more undecided. "Tell me," he said at -length, "tell me, Mademoiselle de Menancourt, if by my application to -the Duke of Mayenne the ceremony of our marriage this night, which I -see has been announced to you by the Duchess de Montpensier, can be -put off to some later period, will you give me the hope, that after a -certain time, during which my conduct towards yourself, and towards -the world, shall be in every respect irreproachable, I may obtain your -hand, without doing that violence to your feelings, which it seems -would be the consequence of our present union?" - -Eugenie turned deadly pale, under the emotion that she felt. The -words of the Count d'Aubin offered her the prospect of a temporary -relief--offered the means of obtaining invaluable time, during which a -thousand changes of circumstances might take place to free her from -the difficulties and dangers that surrounded her; but she asked -herself, how was this to be bought? By deceit, by the first deceit she -had ever been guilty of in life; and though many a casuist might -argue, and argue perhaps justly, that she had a right to oppose the -unjustifiable means employed against her, by any method in her power -to use, the heart of Eugenie de Menancourt was not one that could -admit such reasoning in regard to honesty and truth. She would not -have bought her life by deceit; and though perhaps in the present -instance she might feel that more than life itself was at stake, she -would not sacrifice her own good opinion even for that. - -"No, Monsieur d'Aubin," she replied, after a long and agitated -pause--"No!--I will not deceive you. No time can change my opinion or -determination. I never can be your wife. If you will desist from your -present pursuit--if you will recollect the former generosity of your -sentiments--if you will consider your own honour, and my peace of -mind, and set me free from this persecution, you will merit and obtain -my deepest gratitude, my thanks, and my admiration; but, Philip -d'Aubin, you never can have more." - -"Then you seal your own fate, Eugenie de Menancourt," replied D'Aubin, -"and things must take their course, as already arranged. Yet think not -that this arrangement has been planned solely to gratify me. Other and -more important interests are involved therein, and you will see by -this note from the Duke of Mayenne, that motives of state necessity -compel both him and me to abridge that ceremonious delicacy which -otherwise would have been extended towards you." - -Eugenie took the paper, and tried to read it over; but agitation and -apprehension caused the letters to dance before her eyes, and she only -gathered the general import, and saw that as far as Mayenne and the -Count d'Aubin had power, her fate was sealed indeed. Although her -resolution remained in full force, and her mind was as unconquered as -ever, she felt that her bodily powers were failing her; and fearful -that Aubin should see how much she was overcome, as well as anxious -for a few hours of uninterrupted thought, she waved her hand for him -to leave her. - -"Not one word more?" he said, advancing as if to take her hand. "Not -one word more?" - -"No," replied Eugenie, shrinking back from him with involuntary -horror. "No, I have nothing more to say." - -D'Aubin turned on his heel, mortified to the very heart by the -personal dislike which he marked with the keen eyes of wounded vanity: -and without another word, left Eugenie to solitude, and to feelings -very nearly akin to despair. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -A long summer's day was over, and nothing remained of its splendour -but a fading tint of purple in the deep blue sky; while Venus and the -moon came hand in hand together above the trees, as if to divide -between their bright but gentle rule the tranquil kingdom of the -night. The royal camp no longer sounded with the clang of arms or the -tramp of marching men; the man[oe]uvres for the day were over; and the -soldiery, quartered in the village of St. Cloud itself, had left the -streets vacant, while they sought consolation after all the labours -and exertions of the morning, in the gay evening meal and often -replenished flask. The body of the dead king lay--almost forgotten, by -those who had fed upon his bounty and encouraged his vices,--in the -house where the hand of the assassin had struck him; and lights were -just beginning to twinkle in the windows of the old chateau where the -new monarch had fixed his abode the night after his accession to the -tottering throne of France. - -Such was the state of St. Cloud, when, on the third evening after the -death of Henry III. a party of horsemen paused at the gates of this -park, and, dismounting there, advanced towards the old palace on foot. -The guards at the gates saluted as the cavaliers passed; and Henry IV. -who walked a step before the rest, mused as he proceeded, leading the -way with a slow step, and sometimes gazing up thoughtfully at the blue -twilight sky, sometimes fixing his eyes upon the gravel of the path, -absorbed in deep and silent reverie. At length, turning to those who -accompanied him, he said, "Our arrangements, I think, are all now -complete, and we may begin our march to-morrow. I have to thank you, -Rosny, for Meulan; and you, St. Real, for as fine a body of men as -ever a loyal heart brought to the aid of a poor king. D'Aumont has, I -suppose, already marched to see what friends he can raise for us in -the east; but I much fear that our messenger has never reached our -worthy cousin, the Count de Soissons! However, it matters not, as, by -the reports from Normandy, we shall most likely change our plans. -Still I could wish, De Rosny, that you would write a few lines to the -Count, bidding him advance as fast as possible upon Mans, and then -regulate his movements by what he hears of ours; remembering, however, -that the great object is to bring me men and money as speedily as -possible. Let the letter be copied six times, and I will come and sign -each ere half-an-hour be over. Sent by six separate messengers, one of -these letters can scarcely fail to reach him. You, St. Real, look well -to your quarters; for these Leaguers must know by this time how much -our forces are diminished, and may strive for some advantage. Fare you -well! Good night! Quick! up to the chateau, Rosny, and take all these -others with you. I would fain have half-an-hour's quiet thought, -amidst these moonlight walks, where so many of my ancestors have -wandered, ere I quit them, perhaps for ever, after having been their -sovereign but for a day!" - -"Were it not better, your Majesty," replied De Rosny, in a low voice, -"to keep a few of your attendants around you? Remember that the dagger -of the assassin found your predecessor in the midst of his army and -his court, and that treason has been so evident amongst those by whom -we are surrounded, that we cannot tell whose hand may next be armed -against his monarch's life." - -"I fear not, De Rosny," replied Henry, "I fear not! If it be the will -of God that I fall, the weapon will find me in the midst of guards and -precautions, as easily as alone in the open field. Nor do fear the -treason you seem to apprehend. Our camp has lately been like a butt of -new made wine, in one general ferment, where all was troubled and -unpalatable; but that very ferment, I trust, has worked it clear, and -I would not be the man to fancy myself continually surrounded by -secret enemies--no, not if I could thereby spin out this mortal thread -for centuries beyond the length of ordinary lives! No, no! De Rosny, I -fear not, and I would be alone." - -The last words were spoken in a tone that left no reply; and De Rosny, -beckoning to those who followed, walked on directly towards the -chateau, while Henry turned into one of the lateral alleys, down which -the moonlight was streaming in full effulgence. One or two of the -attendants lingered for a moment, as if still unwilling to leave the -king; but Henry waved his hand for them to depart, and then walked on. - -There are periods in the life of every man, when so many events are -crowding into the short space of a few days, when such manifold calls -upon attention, and such deep and important interests for -consideration load the wings of every minute as it flies, that time is -wanting for the recollection, for the thought, for even the feeling, -of how the mighty changes which are going on around us affect our own -individual nature, and work upon our being and our fate. At those -periods, to every thinking and intellectual mind, comes a thirst and a -longing for even a brief space of calm reflection; and we gladly seize -the very first opportunity of withdrawing our thoughts from the -wearying necessity of directing our actions on the instant, and give -them up for a time to that consideration of remote prospects and -general feelings, which, after the energetic activity lately required -of us, is comparatively a state of tranquillity and repose. - -Such had been, and such was the situation of Henry IV. Since the -assassination of the late king, scarcely an instant had passed without -some imperious demand for immediate exertion. Mighty and deep were the -interests involved; imminent and terrible were the perils that -surrounded him; and the consequences of every step that his foot trod, -in the rough and precipitous path before him, were not only destined -to affect himself as an individual, but to carry weal or woe to -thousands and tens of thousands; to change the fate of states and -kingdoms, and decide the destiny of generations yet unborn. His crown -and station for life, the security and fortune of his friends, the -power of recompensing those who served him, the right of chastising -the rebel, and of punishing the traitor; the means of restoring peace -to his rent and devastated country, the weal and welfare of his whole -people, hung trembling in the balance of every instant, and required -the exertion of all the energies with which God had blessed his great -and powerful mind for the direction of his feeling and generous heart. -The exertions of those energies had not been spared by Henry IV. He -had lost not a moment; he had neglected not an opportunity; he had -done more than mortal frame could well endure; and had taken from the -cares of empire not even the time for necessary refreshment and -repose. But now that the hurricane had in some measure passed by, that -the evil of the hour was accomplished, and that every means which -human sagacity could devise had been taken to remedy past misfortunes, -and to guard against future perils, he gave way to that longing thirst -for communion with his own heart, which the heat of the great storm of -difficulties and dangers he had undergone, and the fatigue of mighty -exertions, had left behind. Well, well might he think of that vast, -dim, misty prospect, the future! Well, well might he look around to -see, if beyond the rocks, and shoals, and tempests, which surrounded -him, he could perceive no calmer scene, no haven of repose, no gleam -of sunshine to light him on over the dark and troubled waters around -him! Well, well might he ask his own heart, if he could have courage, -and energy, and perseverance sufficient, to dare all the dangers, to -bear all the reverses, and again and again breast the waves which had -so often dashed him back against the rocks. - -Such were his thoughts, such the matter of his contemplation, as, with -his eyes now bent on the ground, now raised towards the sky, he walked -slowly along one of the alleys of the old park of St. Cloud. But his -mind wandered far, and paused for a moment upon many of those -collateral associations to which his circumstances and situation gave -rise. He thought of the sorrows and cares of kingly lot, of the -ingratitude and baseness of mankind, of the hollowness and -heartlessness of courts, and of the selfishness and insincerity of -many of those who dwelt in them. He remembered the fate of his -immediate predecessor; betrayed by those whom he had favoured, driven -from his capital, and almost hurled from his throne by the friend and -companion of his youth,[3] opposed in arms by those whom his bounty -had fed and pampered, and murdered by the representative of an order -which he had loaded with benefits and degraded himself to serve. He -thought of what might be his own fate; and, judging from all the signs -that he saw around him, he argued, that the well of bitterness was but -freshly opened for him, and that his hand held a cup of sorrow whereof -he was destined to drink to the very last drop. - -Then again, as he raised his eyes towards the beautiful planet which -was diffusing the flood of her tranquil light over field, and plain, -and wood, over armed camp and beleaguered city, as calmly and -tranquilly as if nothing but peace, and virtue, and happiness dwelt -beneath her beams, his mind reverted to his early days, when he had -seen the same effulgent rays pour through the mighty masses of his -native mountains, and stream down the lovely valleys in which he had -first learned to shoot his boyish arrows at the mark, to cast the -light line for the silver trout, or to pursue the swift-footed izzard -over the beetling crags: and as he thought of those sweet times and -happy hours, how he did long, with the deep yearnings of the -disappointed heart, to be able to cast away crown and sceptre, sword -and shield, the miseries of high station, the bitter wisdom of -manhood, and to sport again, a boy, with the happy carelessness of -other years, by the bright waters of the Gave, and amidst the lustrous -valleys of Ossau, Argelez, and Pau! - -By this time he had nearly reached the end of the alley, where it -opened out upon a small lawn, over which, in the neglect of all things -that existed during the civil wars, the grass had grown up long and -rank; and he was preparing to return and bend his steps towards the -chateau, when a light rustling sound amongst the trees caught his -ear, and made him draw round his sword belt, till the hilt of his -well-tried weapon was within easy reach of his hand. - -The next moment the cause of that sound stood before him, at the -distance of about ten paces; and the moon afforded quite sufficient -light to show the monarch that no fresh peril was near. The form was -that of a page, and the next moment Leonard de Monte advanced, and -cast himself upon his knee at Henry's feet. "Ha! my friend the page!" -cried the king; "I saw you yesterday, as I passed through the village, -and recognised you instantly; but had no time to speak. What would you -now, good youth?" and as he spoke he extended his hand towards him. - -Leonard de Monte raised it to his lips, but still continued kneeling, -while he replied, "I crave a boon, sire. You may remember that I once, -not many moons since, led you in safety through more than one path of -danger; and you promised me then, that if ever I asked you a boon -consistent with your honour, you would grant it." - -"And so I will, if it be possible," answered Henry; "though I have -granted you one boon already without your asking it; I mean that I -have kept your secret!" Leonard de Monte started up and drew a step -back; but the king continued, "Did you fancy I did not recollect you? -Ay! within five minutes after our first meeting: but never mind, and -do not fear; speak your boon boldly, and, if it be in my power, I will -not say nay; though, to tell the truth, within these three days I have -granted so much that I doubt if there be anything left in all France -to grant!" - -"Mine will not be difficult, sire," replied the page; "it is but this, -that you will give me, under your royal hand, an order addressed to -all your lieutenants, officers, and seneschals, and to all persons, in -short, who hold you dear, to aid and help me with the whole of their -power whenever I shall call upon them; to protect me and all who are -with me in case of danger, and to give me every kind of information -and assistance which I may require for my personal safety." - -"You ask a very high and unlimited power of command for a boy of your -age!" said the king, laughing; "but I think I may trust you; and yet," -he added, in a graver tone, "such authority might be abused." - -The boy again advanced and once more bent his knee, "Never by me, -sire!" he said; "and to think so for one moment, would be to do me -foul injustice. Born in a foreign land, and my own sovereign at least, -I cannot offer you allegiance; but I swear with truer intentions than -many of those who have vowed faith and service to you within these -three days, that I will never use the power I ask from you but for the -purposes of safety. I promise it upon my word--a word that was broken; -upon my honour--an honour that has never known a stain." - -"You are an extraordinary being," said the king, "and I will do what -you ask without a doubt; but tell me," he added with a smile, "what -name shall I put in this general order? Shall it be Leonard de Monte, -or a nobler name?" - -"Show me that you do really know me," answered the other, in a gayer -tone than he had hitherto used, "by writing the name you would fix -upon me in the letter." - -"Do you think I have forgotten the conferences of Niort?" demanded -Henry; "no, no! I remember them well; and I recollect, too, that when -I pressed Madame de Saulnes somewhat hard to tell me what I was really -to expect from the court of that day, she told me to ask you, not her; -for that your habits were different; you never told a falsehood, and -she never told the truth!" - -"But I told you nothing!" exclaimed the boy, eagerly. - -"No, but you said plainly you would not!" answered the king, "and -therefore I trusted you with my life when last I met you; and will -trust you to the very utmost now. Come, let us go back to the castle." - -As he spoke, he took the hand of the youth, who had again risen; but -Leonard de Monte instantly withdrew it, saying, "Perhaps I had better -send for the paper when your Majesty has had leisure to finish it." - -"Good faith, you must take it now or never!" answered Henry: "but who -have we here?" - -"'Tis but a page I sent to seek you at the chateau, sire," replied his -companion, "while I waited amongst the alleys for his return. I heard -your voice, however, as you dismissed your attendants, and followed -you hither." - -"Ha, St. Real's dwarf, who met us in the wood!" cried the monarch, as -the page Bartholo approached, "Pardie! your schemes seem to have been -well and deeply laid; and yet there is a mystery which I cannot -altogether fathom; though I have been accustomed to deal with those -whose trade is deceit, till my eyes, I believe could well nigh -penetrate the nether millstone. You must some day let me into the -secret of all this." - -"Perhaps I may, your Majesty," replied the youth; "that is, I may some -time give you the secret of my own conduct. The secret of my present -request, sire, is very soon told. I seek but to aid the oppressed, and -if your Majesty will listen to the tale, it shall be told as we go -along." - -"Speak, speak!" replied the king; "we treat as crown to crown, you -know; and I must e'en take as much or as little of your confidence as -your diplomacy is pleased to offer. Speak! and if I can aid you, count -upon my help." - -Leonard de Monte made a sign to Bartholo to draw back; and then -walking by the side of the king, with the ease of one accustomed to -courts and the society of princes, proceeded to tell the tale he had -mentioned, in a low voice, the tones of which scarcely reached the -dwarf's ear. It was evident, however, that the king soon became -interested; sometimes suddenly interrupting the soft melodious tones -in which the voice spoke, to ask some rapid question, sometimes -abruptly pausing to listen with greater attention, and then resuming -his walk towards the chateau. When they had nearly reached the gates, -the monarch again turned, exclaiming, "Marry her to St. Real!--Pardie! -that was not the consummation I expected." - -"And why not, sire?" demanded the boy. "Wherefore should she not be -married to St. Real?" - -"Why, certainly, I did not suppose you wished to marry her yourself!" -replied Henry, laughing. "You are very generous, however." - -"Sire, your majesty mistakes me," replied Leonard de Monte in a grave -tone,--"mistakes me, my views, wishes, and purposes entirely." - -"I perceive I do," replied the king, "and acknowledge you are more a -mystery to me than ever. However, this is all irrelevant to the matter -of deep interest which you have just told me, and to the shrewd but -daring plans which you have formed. On my honour," he added, "you have -a bold and generous heart, and, could we but get you to grow a little -taller, would make as good a knight as ever couched a lance. But let -us speak to the point. You must have my counsel and advice, for I have -been somewhat famous for _coups de main_ in my day;--be so good, Sir -Dwarf, as to put at least a hundred times your own length between your -steps and ours; we shall give you notice when we want your presence at -our conference." Thus saying, the king again entered the lateral -alley, in which he had first met Leonard de Monte, and dropping his -voice so as to confine the sense of his words to the ears for which -they were intended, he continued the conversation with rapid and eager -interest. Leonard de Monte frequently joined in; and, by the time they -reached the end of the walk, it seemed that their plans were fully -arranged; for, wheeling suddenly round, they returned with much -quicker steps towards the chateau, keeping silence also as they went, -till at length, when within a hundred yards of the terrace, Henry -burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming--"Ventre Saint Gris, 'twill be -worth half a province so to circumvent his slow Highness of Mayenne!" - -He then led the way into the palace; and, bidding the dwarf wait in -the vestibule, proceeded to a small cabinet in which De Rosny, -together with a secretary, was busily engaged in writing the letters -before mentioned to the Count de Soissons. The grave and somewhat -formal Huguenot raised his eyes with some surprise to the handsome and -glittering youth who entered with the king, and to whose face and -person he was totally a stranger. Henry, however, without noticing his -astonishment, and seemingly entirely occupied by the thoughts to which -his late conversation had given rise, led the way on into a chamber -beyond, bidding the secretary bring him instantly materials for -writing. Then casting himself into a chair, he wrote with a rapid -hand, in the first place, the general letter, which the youth had -originally demanded, and then another longer epistle, which he folded -and sealed with his private signet. - -"This," he said, handing the letter to Leonard de Monte, "this is to -be your last resource if other means fail; and I do not think, however -he may deny our authority, that our worthy cousin will neglect the -warning there given him. Nevertheless, try all other means first, and -forget not to give me instant information of the result; for even -should the beginning be successful, it may require some pains and some -power to render the end equally fortunate." - -The boy, who had remained standing, took the papers; and kissing the -king's hand, with many thanks, retired from his presence. Passing -through the vestibule, he beckoned to the page to follow him, and, -with a rapid step, proceeded to the outward gates. Then taking his way -to the _auberge_, in which St. Real lodged, he entered the room in -which the young marquis was seated. - -St. Real beckoned him to approach, saying, "I have sent for you twice, -Leonard." - -"No one told me of it, sir," replied the boy, "and in fact no one -could, for I was absent till within this moment. But what are your -commands?" - -"Come hither," said St. Real, with a smile, "and I will tell you." The -page approached; and the young lord marking some sort of impatience in -his countenance, for a few minutes played with his expectation as one -might do with the eagerness of a child. - -At length, however, he asked more gravely---- - -"Do you remember, on the night of the king's death, you sang me a -song, and repeated me a proverb, which, together with your own words, -too well applied to myself to have been spoken accidentally? You -escaped me at the time; and since, I have not had an opportunity of -speaking with you on the subject. But now I must not only demand to -know how you have fathomed secrets which I thought confined to my own -bosom; but I must also require of you to tell me who and what you are, -for your language and your station are at variance, and I must have my -doubts satisfied." - -"Sir," replied the boy, while first a playful smile, and then a look -almost approaching to sorrow, passed over his countenance, "with -regard to what I know of yourself, some day I may tell you how I know -it, but I cannot tell you now. In regard to what you ask concerning -myself, I can give you but one answer. Did you ever hear of beings -called fairies, who, for some particular motive of friendship or -regard, sometimes come down to do better than mortal service to a -chosen race, or a particular individual? If you have heard of such -beings--and who has not?--you must know, that the very first question -concerning their nature, or their fate, dissolves the spell that binds -them to the person they serve, and ends their term of service. Such, -sir, is the case with me. So long as you asked me no questions, I was -your willing page and humble attendant. Your curiosity has dissolved -the spell, and all I can do is, to bid you farewell, and to tell you, -that you will never see Leonard de Monte more." - -Thus saying, he again darted out of the room, leaving St. Real -uncertain whether he spoke in jest or earnest. Determined, however, to -know more, the young nobleman started up, and opened the door, in -order to call the gay youth back, and question him farther. Bartholo -the dwarf was seated in the ante-room, together with another -attendant; and St. Real bade him instantly follow the page, and bring -him back. The dwarf stared for a moment, as if in astonishment at the -command; and then replied, that he knew not where to find Leonard, for -that he had seen him enter the room from which the young lord had just -come, but had not seen him return. The other attendant was in the same -story, and St. Real caused the boy to be sought for in vain. - -The next morning, however, a greater defection was found amongst his -followers, which satisfactorily accounted to St. Real for the magical -disappearance of his page on the preceding night. The dwarf Bartholo, -and three of his ordinary attendants, were nowhere to be heard of; -but, by this time, the tampering of the Leaguers with every class of -persons in the royal camp was so great and notorious, that St. Real -was not at all surprised to find that five of his followers had been -induced to quit his service. The loss of Leonard de Monte, however, he -felt more than he could have anticipated from the short time the youth -had been in his service, and from the slightness of the duties -required at his hands; but, from the first moment he had seen him, the -young lord of St. Real had conceived an interest in his page which -every hour had increased. During his first deep sorrow for the loss of -his father, he had found the boy's attentions so soothing and well -judged, his sympathy apparently so deep and true, his few words of -consolation so mingling together sense and feeling, that he felt -gratitude towards him as well as regard; but there was something more -than all this. With all the boy's occasional boldness and daring, -there was blended a softness and a gentleness, which, together with -the apparent weakness of his slight frame, and a few traits of -timidity, approaching to cowardice, rendered him an object of that -tender care which always endears those in whose behalf it is -exercised. Thus, when St. Real found that the youth had really left -him, though he felt some slight degree of anger at a desertion which -he was conscious he had not deserved, he experienced no small desire -to know the former, and guide the future fate of Leonard de Monte. - -Events, however, calling for frequent and vigorous exertion, were -multiplying so rapidly round his path, that he had but little time to -give to matters of more remote interest. He occasionally thought of -the youth, it is true, but more often grieved over the conduct of his -cousin, and never ceased to ponder, with bitterness of heart, on the -fate of Eugenie de Menancourt, and on his own feelings towards her. -But still every hour brought some claim upon his attention of a -different kind; and in the retreat of the royal army, which began two -days after his page had left him, he had scarcely time for any other -sensations than the anxiety and foresight attendant upon withdrawing a -small and ill-supplied body of men from the presence of a powerful -adversary. - -It was in the midst of the arrangements incident to such a retreat, -that, at the first halting place on the march, Monsieur de Sancy came -into the small room in which St. Real was seated at Mantes, -exclaiming--"I have news for you, Monsieur de St. Real! Your cousin -has already secured the recompense at which he aimed in quitting us. -He was married last night to Mademoiselle de Menancourt, the rich -heiress of Maine. I have it from one who was in Paris at the time." - -St. Real made no reply; but he turned so deadly pale, that De Sancy -could not but observe that something had gone amiss, and instantly -strove to turn the conversation into another channel. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -It was toward that hour in the evening, at which the rays of twilight -that linger behind the rest of the lustrous retinue of day are called -away from the sky, and our hemisphere is given over to the absolute -rule of night--it was at that hour, too, which is more important, when -the joyous denizens of the gay capital of France, after having sunned -themselves through the long afternoon of a summer's day in the gardens -and highways, were in those times wont to retire each to his -individual home, to enjoy such dainties as the bounty of nature and -the skill of his cook had prepared for the last meal of the evening. -It was about nine o'clock, then, on a night in August, when, the -streets of Paris being nearly deserted by every one else, a strong -troop of horsemen assembled in the little square, nearly opposite to -the dwelling of Eugenie de Menancourt. - -The gentleman who was at their head, springing to the ground, advanced -to the door; and after asking a few questions of one of the servants, -entered the court. Shortly afterwards the carriage of Madame de -Montpensier rolled heavily up; and that fair dame herself, with one or -two ladies in her train, descended therefrom and mounted the great -staircase. Then, after a pause of five minutes, the Duke of Mayenne -appeared on horseback, with his habiliments somewhat dusty, as if -unchanged since his return from some long expedition, and accompanied -by a numerous train of officers and attendants. Dismounting from his -horse, the Duke dismissed at once the principal part of his suite; -only retaining two or three of the inferior attendants who remained -below at the gate, while he himself, with a slow and seemingly -unwilling step, entered the house. - -The servant who marshalled the Duke on his way to the saloon did not -seem to look upon him with the best-satisfied countenance in the -world; and the faces of the three or four attendants who had been -permitted to remain with the young heiress of Menancourt after -their old lord's death, and who now appeared in the lobbies and -ante-chambers, seemed full not only of grief, but of a sort of sullen -determination, which, had their numbers been greater, might have -broken out at once in a more serious manner. - -Mayenne, however, marked them not, but mounted the stairs and entered -the saloon; and certainly, if his heart revolted at the part he was -about to act, the scene which now presented itself to his eyes was not -calculated to reconcile him to the proceeding. - -Standing at one of the farther windows, and looking out into the dark -street, where he certainly could see nothing to engage his attention, -was the Count d'Aubin, while seated at a table, on which stood two or -three lighted tapers, was the unhappy Eugenie de Menancourt. Her dress -was still deep mourning; and her eyes gave evident tokens of having -shed late and bitter tears: but she was now calm; and fixing her gaze -upon vacancy, seemed totally inattentive to the words which Madame de -Montpensier and her ladies, who stood round her, were pouring upon her -dull unheeding ear. - -"We cannot persuade her to change her dress, Charles," said the -Duchess, pointing to the mourning in which Eugenie was clothed. - -"Never mind, never mind!" replied the Prince, impatiently; "why tease -her more than necessary? Let her wear what dress she will!" - -"Nay, Charles, but it is ominous," cried the Duchess; "pray speak to -her about it." - -"Mademoiselle de Menancourt," said Mayenne, in a grave but not unkind -tone, "let me persuade you to change this garb, if it be but for this -night. It is unusual and ungracious to go to the marriage altar in the -robe of mourning, as if you were following some friend to the grave." - -Eugenie had started at his voice, and now looking up she replied, -"Were I going willingly to the marriage altar, my Lord Duke, I would -change my garb; but what robe, but the robe of mourning, would you -have me wear, when you are about to drag me to a fate, in comparison -with which the grave itself were happiness. But, my Lord, you mistake -me. If, as I am told, marriage must depend upon consent, and that none -other is legal, my consent shall never be given to a union with the -Count d'Aubin." - -"I am sorry to say, Madame," replied Mayenne, "that imperative motives -of state necessity compel me--" - -Mayenne was suddenly interrupted; for, unperceived by himself, the few -servants and retainers of the old Count de Menancourt, who had, as we -have said, been suffered to remain with their young mistress, had -glided into the room one after the other, and stood ranged across the -door; and while the Duke was speaking, the principal officer of the -unhappy girl's household, indignant at the oppression exercised -towards the daughter of his beloved lord, strode forward and boldly -confronted Mayenne, as if he had been his equal. "My Lord Duke," he -said, "we will have none of this! Our young lady shall be free to give -her hand to whom she likes; and if you drag her to the altar against -her will, it shall be over our dead bodies! Nay, frown not on me, -Count d'Aubin. I have seen more stricken fields than you are years of -age; and a great man when he is doing a wicked thing is less than a -little one. But all I have to say is, that though we be but few, we -will die sooner than see our lady ill-used. Stop him in the way, -Martin," he continued, speaking to his companions as he perceived the -Count d'Aubin striding towards the door. "We have them here; but two -against us seven; and though, doubtless, we shall be hanged for it -after, we can, by one means, make sure that Mademoiselle shall never -be forced to marry a Count d'Aubin!" - -Rage and fury had evidently taken possession of D'Aubin; but Mayenne, -on the contrary, listened calmly and tranquilly, with a slight smile -curling his lip, till the man had done speaking; then, pointing to the -window, he said, "Do me the favour, Monsieur d'Aubin, to call up the -guard. By the window, by the window, D'Aubin!" - -"Lock the door, Martin," exclaimed the old attendant, as a comment -upon Mayenne's words; "we can settle the matter here before the guard -comes. Out with your swords, my men, and upon them!" - -But Eugenie interposed: "No, no! my friends," she cried, rising; "no, -no! blood shall never be spilt on my account. Quit the room, I -beseech, I command you, and let them have their will, however -iniquitous that will may be. Only remember, that whatever may be said, -or whatever may be done, I do to the last protest, that I do not, and -that I will not, wed the Count d'Aubin; and though they may drag me to -the altar, I am not, and never shall consider myself, his wife:--leave -me, I beseech you," she added, seeing some hesitation on the part of -her attendants; "leave me, if you would not increase my sorrow," and -sinking down into her chair, she burst once more into a flood of -tears; while the attendants, still muttering and eyeing Mayenne and -his companion with somewhat doubtful glances, slowly and sullenly -quitted the apartment. - -"Really, Monsieur d'Aubin," said Mayenne, in a low voice, "this should -not go forward!" - -"Your promise, my Lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, drily. - -"Well, well," said Mayenne, shrugging his shoulders; and then -producing a roll of parchment, he laid it on the table before Eugenie -de Menancourt, whose weeping eyes were still covered with her hands, -and said, "Mademoiselle de Menancourt, I am compelled by -circumstances, much against my inclination, to request your signature -to this contract of marriage between yourself and the Count d'Aubin." - -"Never!" answered Eugenie, distinctly; "never!" - -Mayenne looked towards the Count d'Aubin, who said, in a low and -hurried tone, "Never mind the contract, my Lord! let us get over the -ceremony in the chapel. That will be sufficient. Marriage is a -sacrament, you know, and that once past, it cannot be shaken off." - -Mayenne paused for a moment, as if scarcely able to master the -reluctance which struggled in his bosom against the fulfilment of his -promise to the Count d'Aubin. "Where is Father Herbert?" he asked at -last; "Catherine, did you not bring him with you?" - -"He is waiting us in the chapel by this time," replied Madame de -Montpensier: "some one gave him a note just as we were in the court, -and he said he would follow instantly, and join us below." - -"Send down and see, Monsieur le Comte," said Mayenne: "you had better -call up some of the attendants, by means of that window," he added, -"for we may be troubled by these pugnacious peasants again; and, -indeed, I must take care that they be looked to till this business be -blown over and forgotten. You are well aware," he continued, in a low -tone, speaking to D'Aubin, "that what we are doing is contrary to the -law." - -"I will take my share of the responsibility," replied the Count, -sharply; "and for your part, my Lord, if you cannot manage a -parliament which is wholly devoted to you, I am afraid you will never -be able to manage a kingdom, which is more than one half devoted to -another." Thus speaking, he approached the open window, and, in a few -words, directed some of the persons below to come up; but almost -instantly turned to Mayenne, saying, "I suppose that is your confessor -just arrived--at least I hear some one inquiring for you in great -haste apparently." - -Almost as he spoke, the door opened, and the Chevalier d'Aumale -entered the saloon, followed by a person, who was evidently to be -distinguished as a priest, both by his tonsure and robe, but upon whom -Mayenne and his sister gazed as a stranger. "I beg your highness's -pardon for intruding," said Aumale; "but two things have occurred -which called upon me to wave ceremony. After leaving you, I rode on -direct to your hotel, where I found the whole world in confusion in -consequence of that insolent villain, Bussy le Clerc, having caused -your own confessor to be arrested by a party of his people within a -hundred yards of your dwelling, upon the pretence of his favouring the -Huguenots--your own confessor favouring the Huguenots!" - -"I will hang that pitiful demagogue to one of the spouts in the -chatelet before many weeks are over!" said Mayenne, sternly; "but why -did you not follow and release the good father. Monsieur d'Aumale?" he -continued. - -"Because, just at that moment," answered the Chevalier, "this reverend -gentleman trotted up on his mule, begging instant audience of you on -urgent business from his highness the Prince of Parma." - -"Indeed! indeed!" exclaimed Mayenne; "what is your business with me, -reverend sir? I can but ill attend to it at this moment, unless it be -important indeed." - -"My business is to deliver that despatch, my son," replied the priest, -placing in the hands of the Duke a sealed paper, which he instantly -tore open and read. - -"Most warlike and joyful news, by a most peaceful messenger!" -exclaimed Mayenne. "Spain sends us a thousand men, Aumale, within -three days! Most joyful news, indeed! and not the less acceptable from -being conveyed to us by a minister of our holy religion." - -"Glad am I to hear you say so, my noble and princely son," answered -the priest; "for his Highness of Parma, when he over persuaded me to -quit my little flock at Houdaincourt, because he fancied a cassoc -would pass more safely with the tidings than a buff belt, did mention -something about a vacant stall in the cathedral church of Cambray, and -the great love and reverence of our father, the Bishop, for your -Highness, and all your illustrious family." - -"Well, well, your good service, father, in the cause of the faith -shall not go without reward," replied Mayenne; "but you are just come -in time to do us another good service. Have you any objection to read -the marriage service here, and win a rich benefice for your pains?" - -Eugenie had heard everything that passed, as if in a troubled dream; -and when the Chevalier d'Aumale had related the arrest of the -confessor, a momentary hope of reprieve had crossed her mind. The last -words of Mayenne, however, and the ready assent of the priest, -instantly extinguished it. The next moment it revived again, as she -heard the somewhat strangely chosen missive of the Prince of Parma -observe, "But the lady seems to be weeping! what is the cause of -that?" and a vague purpose of beseeching him not to join in the -oppression which was exercised towards her entered her thoughts. Ere -she could execute such a design, however, Mayenne, in a low voice, -directed the Count d'Aubin to take the priest out of the room, and -explain to him, as he thought best, the circumstances of the case, -promising him what reward he judged right to stop all troublesome -inquiries. - -As the door opened and closed, Eugenie looked fearfully around; and -feeling that the last hope of moving any one to pity lay in the -temporary absence of him whom she regarded as her most determined -persecutor, she rose, intending to cast herself at the knees of -Mayenne, and to beseech him, by all that was noble and chivalrous in -his nature, to become her protector against the violence of others, -rather than to join in oppressing her himself. During the last two -days, however, she had undergone more mental suffering than her -corporeal frame could endure. The efforts of the last few minutes had -poured the drops of overflowing into the cup; and though by great -exertion she staggered to the spot, where Mayenne remained standing, -after speaking to the Count d'Aubin, she could not utter a word, but -fell fainting at his feet. At the same moment D'Aubin returned; and -there was a slight interval of confusion and uncertainty, some calling -for water and essences, some proposing to bear her to her own -apartment. But D'Aubin interfered. "Let us seize the present moment," -he said, "to carry her to the chapel, where we can find means of -restoring animation. One great difficulty will then be got over, and -we can proceed with the ceremony at once." - -"I have often heard," said Madame de Montpensier, "that yours is a -determined nature, Monsieur d'Aubin, but I did not know how determined -till to-night." - -Without noticing the sneer by any reply, D'Aubin raised the senseless -form of Eugenie de Menancourt in his arms, and followed by the rest, -bore her down one flight of stairs to the chapel, which, as usual in -many of the principal hotels of Paris at that time, was attached to -the dwelling, and independent of the parochial clergy. During his -short absence, the Count had taken care that his own followers and -those of Mayenne should clear that part of the house of the attendants -of the unhappy object of his persecution, so that, by the way, he met -with neither opposition nor inquiry. The chapel was reached, and all -was found prepared, with the priest standing at the altar. - -The situation of Eugenie instantly called his attention, however, and -he exclaimed, "I cannot go on till the lady has recovered." - -"Nobody wishes you, sir priest," exclaimed D'Aubin, sharply. "Some one -bring water; quick!" - -This command was rendered unnecessary, however; for by this time -Eugenie was beginning to regain that miserable consciousness of the -evils that surrounded her, from which even temporary insensibility had -been a relief. Madame de Montpensier raised her head; Mayenne, in -broken and scarcely intelligible terms, endeavoured to speak a few -words of comfort; and, being lifted up before the altar, the vain -ceremony of her marriage with the Count d'Aubin was begun by the -priest, in hurried and not very distinct tones. - -Rallying all her powers for one last effort, Eugenie freed herself -from the hands of those who supported her, and once more distinctly -and firmly protested her dissent from the idle rite which they were -performing. Again overpowered, however, she sank upon her knees, the -priest went on, and ere she well knew what past, the fatal ring was -upon her finger. - -Snatching it off instantly, however, she cast it down upon the floor -of the chapel, and again fell back fainting into the arms of Madame de -Montpensier. - -"See her carried back to her own apartments, poor girl!" cried -Mayenne; "and do you, Catherine, stay with her awhile, and comfort -her." - -"Let us leave her with her own people, Charles," answered Madame de -Montpensier, comprehending better than her brother the nature of the -only solace that one in the situation of Eugenie de Menancourt could -receive. "We are all comparatively strangers to her; and the best -comfort in time of sorrow, to a woman's heart at least, is some -familiar and long-remembered face. Will you call some of her own -people, Monsieur le Comte d'Aubin?" - -It was not, perhaps, from any unnatural hardness of heart that D'Aubin -was mortified by the tone of commiseration in which both Mayenne and -his sister spoke of Eugenie de Menancourt; but he felt, and could not -help feeling, that their pity for the object of his persecution was a -direct condemnation of himself. He believed also, and perhaps not -erroneously, that Madame de Montpensier, on various accounts, -experienced a degree of pleasure in rendering every particular of the -scene, in which he was so principal an actor, as painful to him as -possible; but he was a great deal too deeply skilled in the world's -ways not to struggle to prevent those feelings and suspicions from -appearing, either in an angry word, or in any attempt to make light of -the sorrows he had caused. Sending for some of Eugenie's attendants, -therefore, he gave her over into their hands; directing them, in a -grave and earnest tone, and with the air of one who now had a right to -command, to bear her up to her usual apartments slowly and gently, and -use instant means to recall her to consciousness. "Perhaps, madame," -he added, turning to the Duchess, "you would at least watch the -applications of remedies to promote her recovery, as these good people -may be more affectionate than skilful." - -"I will do so with pleasure, Monsieur le Comte," replied Madame de -Montpensier; "but I will retire as soon as I perceive that animation -is returning; for I am sure the sight of any one who has mingled in -the horrible scenes through which the unhappy girl has just passed -will, for a long fill her with terror and abhorrence." - -D'Aubin bit his lip, but made no reply; and Madame de Montpensier in -silence followed the attendants, who bore the insensible form of their -young mistress out of the chapel. - -"And now, Monsieur le Comte," said Mayenne, "it must be time, I think, -for you to put your foot in the stirrup, and ride to make those -preparations which we spoke of yesterday." - -"A few moments more, my good lord," replied D'Aubin, with a cynical -smile. "Your Highness has so scrupulously fulfilled your part of the -engagement, that you need be under no fear lest I should fail in mine. -But ere I go, I must ask this worthy priest to give me a regular -certification of my marriage with Eugenie de Menancourt, otherwise the -retainers of her house may refuse to acknowledge the authority which -it is so necessary for the interests of your Highness that I should be -fully enabled to exercise." - -"You are right," replied Mayenne, calmly. "Be so good, reverend -father, to draw up the document required. The names are, Philip Count -d'Aubin, and Eugenie Lady of Menancourt and of Beaumont en Maine." - -In the little room which answered the purpose of a sacristy, materials -for writing were soon procured, and the priest sat down to prepare the -certification which was to place D'Aubin in possession of the property -he had so unjustly acquired. - -"You are somewhat slow, sir priest," said the haughty noble, -perceiving that every now and then he paused, and seemed to think of -what he should say next; "you are somewhat slow, as if you had never -drawn a certificate before." - -"I generally do leave it to the sacristan," replied the priest, -mildly: "but that was not what made me hesitate, my son. I pondered -whether I should insert that the marriage was against the lady's -will;" and a sly, though half-suppressed smile played about his lips, -and put D'Aubin to silence. - -Mayenne however replied: "No, no, good father," he said; "make it as -brief and as simple as possible. We need no comments." - -The priest accordingly concluded his task; and D'Aubin taking the -certificate, glanced his eye hastily over its contents, and then -turning to Mayenne, he said, "Now, my lord, I make all speed to Maine, -leaving my bride in your hands, and trusting to find on my return, -that during my absence, you have used more eloquence in my favour, -than you have thought fit to do to-night in my presence." - -"I will do all that I can, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied Mayenne, with -calm dignity, "to efface from her mind the impression which this night -must have left, to overcome objections founded on former conduct, of -which I know nothing; and to reconcile her to her fate, which she does -not at all appear to consider the less bitter because it is -inevitable." - -Both the Count d'Aubin and the Duke of Mayenne felt that, under -existing circumstances, the fewer words that passed between them the -less was likely to be the diminution of their friendship. Each had in -a considerable degree a hold over the other; for D'Aubin, possessing -an extended right of command over the lands of Eugenie de Menancourt, -was too powerful to be alienated from the League; and yet, on the -other hand, retaining possession of the person of Eugenie de -Menancourt, Mayenne held D'Aubin to his faction, by a bond that it -would have been dangerous for him to break. D'Aubin, therefore, curbed -the anger which during the whole evening had been gathering in his -bosom, and merely bowing in reply to the last words of the Duke, -quitted the chapel, mounted his horse, and galloped off, followed by -his attendants. - -"And now, my good father," said Mayenne, "return with me to the Hotel -de Guise, and we will speak over this letter from the Prince of Parma, -and his promise regarding the stall in Cambray." - -"May it please your Highness," replied the priest, "as you are on -horseback and I am on foot--for I left my mule at the door of your -hotel--I will follow you with all speed, if you will leave some one to -show me the way, for I cannot boast much acquaintance with the -topography of this vast and labyrinth-like city." - -"Well, well, so be it," replied Mayenne. "But now, I think of it, my -sister, the Duchess of Montpensier--that lady, who was here just now," -he added, "will bring you with her in her coach. It will hold ten with -ease, and she has but four ladies with her. Wait here, and I will tell -some of the attendants to let you know when she comes down." - -The priest bowed his head, and Mayenne departing, left a message for -his sister, and rode back to the Hotel do Guise. Not long after the -carriage of Madame de Montpensier rolled into the court, and the -Duchess instantly sought her brother's cabinet. - -"One of your grooms told me, Charles," she said, "that I was to bring -the priest with me." - -"Certainly," replied the Duke. "Have you not done so?" - -"No," she answered, "I have not, because I could not find him. We -sought everywhere, in the chapel and the sacristy, and over all the -lower part of the house; but he had evidently gone away, and left the -door of the chapel open behind him." - -"The foolish man has mistaken me, then," said Mayenne; "but it matters -not. He will not be long in finding me out, for he has not got his -reward for either of the two services he has rendered to-night; and if -I may judge by his face, he is not a man to perform either the one or -the other for the love of God. So we shall hear of him ere half an -hour be over, depend upon it." And he turned the conversation to the -distressing scene in which he had so unwillingly played a part. - -In regard to the priest, however, Mayenne was mistaken. The night -passed over without his appearance; and the following morning, as the -Duke was making inquiries concerning him, he was interrupted by news -of a different nature, in regard to which we must give some previous -explanation. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -When Eugenie de Menancourt, slowly and painfully, returned to -consciousness of life and sorrow, she found herself in the saloon in -which she usually sat, and in the arms of her own women. Gazing -fearfully around, she sought to discover where the forms of those who -so lately surrounded her were now concealed; and as she satisfied -herself that there was no one present but her own attendants, her -bewildered imagination almost led her to hope, that the terrible -scenes she had gone through were nothing but the phantasms of some -horrible dream. Gradually, however, memory recalled every circumstance -with too painful a degree of accuracy to admit of her indulging any -longer in such a happy delusion; and now, unrestrained by the presence -of any but those whom she knew and loved, she gave way to all the -bitter sorrow that swelled her heart, and burst into a long and silent -flood of tears. The tears seemed to relieve her; but the words which -one of her young attendants whispered in her ear tended more than all -to afford consolation, and to revive almost extinguished hope. - -"Do not weep so bitterly, lady, do not weep so bitterly," said the -girl. "He is gone, and may not return for months!" - -"Who is gone?" exclaimed Eugenie, starting up, and hurriedly wiping -the tears from her eyes, that she might gaze the more intently upon -the speaker. "Who is gone? Who may not return for months?" - -"The Count d'Aubin, lady," replied the girl. "Madame de Montpensier -bade me tell you so, and gave me this note to be delivered to you, -when you were well enough to read it." - -"Give it to me--give it to me now," cried Eugenie; and tearing it -open, she held it to the light, gazing with eager eyes upon the -contents. It was very brief, but almost every word spoke comfort, for -they went to inform her that the Count d'Aubin, on business of -importance, had been obliged to set off for Maine; that the period of -his return was not decided, but that it certainly could not take place -before the end of the month, while it might be delayed longer; and -though the conclusion of the letter went to say, that both the Duke of -Mayenne and Madame de Montpensier trusted that, ere the Count's -return, Mademoiselle de Menancourt would have made up her mind to -receive him as her husband, and to sign the formal contract of -marriage, yet the intelligence of his absence was a reprieve; and -imagination fondly clinging to the uncertainty of the future, at once -renewed hope in her bosom. - -With hope came back the spirit of exertion which had been crushed -beneath despair. Dropping the note upon the table, as the lightning -progress of thought ran on in an instant from one object to another, -she clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Where, where! can Beatrice of -Ferrara be? She must be ill, or she would have come to me, I am sure." - -"Shall we send, and see, lady?" demanded one of the women. - -"Yes, yes! do so," replied Eugenie, "and leave me alone for half an -hour; I would fain think--I would fain consider what is best to be -done! I am better, indeed I am better now," she added, seeing the -women look at her with some hesitation. "Stay in the ante-room, and I -will call, if I want you." - -The women obeyed; and Eugenie, leaning on the table, covered her eyes -with her hands, and remained endeavouring to reduce, to some definite -and feasible plan, the vague hopes of relief which she had again -conceived. But the effects of the agitation she had suffered still -remained, and she found it impossible to fix her thoughts upon the -future, so perseveringly did they wander back to the past. - -In this state, she had continued about five or ten minutes, when the -sound of creaking hinges made her raise her eyes. The door which led -into the ante-room was shut, as well as that which gave egress, at -once, upon the staircase; but on the other side of the room there was -another door, which communicated with an unoccupied part of the house, -looking into a back street which led away towards the Faubourg St. -Antoine; and when Eugenie turned her eyes in that direction, she -started up with surprise, and some degree of alarm, on perceiving it -gently and slowly drawn back. Remembering, however, that her -attendants were in the ante-room, she paused, to see what would be the -result, suppressing the exclamation which had nearly burst from her -lips. - -The sight that the open door presented, when farther drawn back, was -certainly one which in no degree diminished her surprise, but at the -same time added nothing to her alarm; for the person who opened it was -alone; nor was he one whose appearance was calculated to inspire -terror. It was the figure of a youth, apparently not more than fifteen -years of age, that now presented itself, carrying a lamp in one hand, -and unclosing the door with the other. His dress was of the gay and -splendid costume of the court of Henry III. and from under his -high-crowned beaver, and its manifold ostrich feathers, the bright and -glossy curls of his coal-black hair fell round as handsome a face as -ever was beheld. A large cloak was wrapped about his arm, and -riding-boots pushed down to the ankles, as was then customary, seemed -to indicate that he either came from or was bound upon a journey; and -as Eugenie gazed upon him, she concluded at once that he was some page -attached to the Count d'Aubin, who, sent with some message or letter -ere his lord's departure, had either by accident or design passed by -that part of the dwelling which was for the time out of use. As soon -as this conviction struck her, she rose to call in her women, but the -youth held up his hand with a gesture which was easily interpreted -into an entreaty to be silent; and Eugenie again paused, saying in a -low tone, "What do you seek here, sir? Do not advance, or I must call -my servants!" - -The youth, however, did still advance, but with an air of deprecation -and gentleness, that took away all fear; and when, within a step, he -placed the lamp on the table, and bent one knee to the ground, Eugenie -gazed upon him with doubt and astonishment; but a confused and -uncertain hope began to take possession of her mind, as the boy raised -her hand to his lips, and then, as he glided his arms round her waist, -and, with the jetty curls of his hair mingling with her light-brown -locks, kissed her tenderly on either cheek, the fair girl's face -dropped upon her new companion's shoulder, and with a flood of tears -she exclaimed, "Oh! Beatrice, Beatrice! why did you not come sooner?" - -"I did come sooner," replied Beatrice of Ferrara--or Leonard de Monte, -as the reader will,--"I did come sooner, my dear Eugenie. I did come -sooner! and have been in these apartments all the evening, directing -everything that has passed in all this sad scene, though those who -were actors therein knew nothing of the prompter. I could not come to -console you, my Eugenie, nor to give you one word of comfort and -assurance, lest I should be discovered by all the spies and messengers -who were going to and fro about this house during the whole of -yesterday; but I arranged the only means of saving you, and, making my -way into the house by the back street, watched till I saw my plan -executed, and then came to bear you away to a place of greater -security." - -"But, alas, alas! your plan has failed," replied Eugenie. "The fatal -ring has been upon my finger." - -"Fear not! fear not!" replied Beatrice, with a smile. "That ring binds -you to nothing, Eugenie. Such a marriage is lawful in no land under -the sun; and I took care that there should be plenty of witnesses to -prove, hereafter, that your consent was refused to the last." - -"I know," replied Eugenie, "I know that such a marriage cannot be -legal; and I would sooner die than ever render it so. But still, -Beatrice, still a ceremony has taken place; and though I will not be -his wife, yet I can never, never feel myself free again!" - -"Yes, yes, you can," replied Beatrice, with one of her gay smiles; -"yes, you can be free as ever to give this fair hand to any one in the -wide world you choose." - -Eugenie shook her head; but Beatrice drew her arms closer around her, -saying, "Well, well, you little infidel, if you will not believe me -without farther proof, hear the secret of it all--but I dare not speak -it aloud, lest the very spirits of the air should catch it, ere the -poor man get back to the Huguenot camp; for they would burn him alive -in the Place de Greve, if they caught him; and the two thousand -pistoles which bribed him to the adventure would be but cold comfort -in the midst of the flames;" and putting her lips close to Eugenie's -ear, she whispered one or two words in a tone so low, that -Mademoiselle de Menancourt herself might rather be said to divine -their meaning than to hear them distinctly. That she understood them -fully, however, was evident; for the light of joy instantly broke over -her countenance; and clasping her hands together, while she raised her -eyes towards heaven, she exclaimed, "Then I am saved indeed!" - -At that moment, the door from the ante-room suddenly opened, and -Beatrice started up from the position in which she had remained ever -since her first entrance into the room, while Eugenie turned a -terrified glance towards the door. It was only one of her women, -however, who entered; and, contrary to her mistress's expectations, -she evinced no surprise at the sight of Beatrice of Ferrara, disguised -in the manner we have described. - -"She knows it all, Eugenie," said Beatrice, "for it was by her means I -obtained admission." - -"I suppose, madam," said the waiting-woman, with a smile, "that I need -scarcely tell you that Jean Baptiste has returned, with the news that -Mademoiselle de Ferrara is still absent from home, and is not expected -for many days." - -"But why did you not tell me, Caroline," demanded Eugenie, "that she -was here? It would have saved me many a miserable moment. If I had -known that she was in this house, I should never have lost hope that -all would go right." - -"But it was impossible to tell you, lady," replied the waiting-woman; -"for the Duchess de Montpensier sent us all away; and after she was -gone, I could not say what I knew, because your other women were with -you." - -"Well, well," said Beatrice, "we have matters of more importance to -think of now, Eugenie: we will keep all explanations for an aftertime, -when you and I, in some little cottage, far away from these scenes of -strife, want conversation to pass away the hours till the storm has -worked itself out, and the sky is once more clear. And now, sweet sister -of my heart, call up all your courage, summon all your resolution, for -we must lose no time, but make the best of our way out of this hateful -city. Ere to-morrow morning be two hours' old, Mayenne will have -discovered that he has been cheated; and though Philip d'Aubin be by -that time beyond recall, his Highness the lieutenant-general, and the -Holy League, even if they find not out all the windings of our plot, -will take such measures for your security, that all after efforts will -be vain." - -"Oh! I will do anything! I will fly anywhere!" replied Eugenie. "I -have courage, I have resolution for any effort. The worst that can -befall me is death; and I would rather die a thousand times than be -the bride of Philip d'Aubin." - -Beatrice smiled, half sorrowfully, half playfully. "He is not reputed, -my fair Eugenie," she said, "to be so very hateful, as you seem to -think." - -Eugenie blushed deeply, pained to believe that her undisguised -abhorrence of the Count d'Aubin might have wounded the feelings of one -whom she loved so much as Beatrice of Ferrara--one who, she well knew, -was not indifferent to the man whom she herself so deeply detested. "I -mean not to say that he is so hateful in himself, Beatrice," she -replied; "but has not he given me good reason to hate him? Perhaps I -might have loved him, too, if--" - -"If you had not loved another," interrupted Beatrice, with a smile. -"But we have not time for all that either," she added; "and will talk -of it, too, another day. At this moment we have other things on hand. -You, my good Caroline, bring your mistress some refreshments quickly; -but take care that no one else enters while you are gone." - -"Indeed, Beatrice, I need no refreshment," said Eugenie, rising. "Joy -at my deliverance, and hope for the future, will give me strength and -support to go any length of way; and I am ready, quite ready, to set -out directly." - -Beatrice smiled. "I will command to-day," she said; "Caroline, do as I -bid you! Alas, my poor Eugenie, you have much to do, ere you can set -out, for the danger lies at our threshold; and when once I have led -you twenty yards in safety from the door of this house, I shall think -the battle half won at least." - -"What, then, is it that you fear?" demanded Eugenie, eagerly. - -"Delay, above all things!" answered Beatrice; "for though, I trust, -our plot has been too well laid to be discovered immediately, yet -there is always danger where there is anything concealed. First, then, -Eugenie, you must change your dress, and take such a one as will most -completely disguise you, should you be sought for more speedily than -we suppose." - -"I know not where to find any dress but my own," replied Eugenie. -"What dress would you have me to take, Beatrice?--Though, now I think -of it," she added suddenly; "one of my maids has her own country -costume with her,--a white petticoat, and a red open gown above it, -with----" - -"Impossible! impossible!" exclaimed Beatrice. "It would betray you at -once. Remember, my dear Eugenie, that I go with you; and though in the -streets of Paris they might but think that the gay page was deceiving -the country girl with a tale of love, that would not do beyond the -gates. I once thought of a nun's dress for you, which would do very -well in the city also; but one must care for other things than those -of the mere present; and recollect that if I, dressed as a bold youth, -and you, dressed as a pretty nun, were seen getting into either coach -or litter together, we should have the ecclesiastical officers at our -heels. No, no, Eugenie! we must have some dress for you which will -neither attract attention in the city, nor beyond the walls; which -will tell its own tale, and, by sparing all inquiries, conceal our sex -and character without an effort." - -"Oh, not a man's dress!" exclaimed Eugenie, imploringly. - -"None other, indeed!" answered Beatrice, smiling; "but knowing the -timid shyness of that heart which pretends to be so bold, I have -chosen one for you, Eugenie, which will hide your person as -effectually as the fullest robe that ever woman wore, which will -accord with a smooth cheek and a demure look, and which will yet admit -of your travelling in company with a bold page. Come and see! for I -have brought it here along with me." - -Thus saying, Beatrice of Ferrara took her hand, and led her through -the same passage by which she herself had entered, to a room wherein -she had lain concealed during the time that the other apartments were -occupied by the party assembled for that sad bridal. There, on one of -the old oaken chairs, lay the robes of a young abbé in complete -costume; not such as that costume appeared in after years, when the -gradual blending of the dress of different orders permitted the -aspirants to ecclesiastical stations to assume habiliments only -distinguished from those of the laity by colour; but full, ample, and -flowing, and offering to Eugenie that modest concealment for her fair -form, to which even she, under existing circumstances, could not -object. Deeply sensible of the kind and delicate appreciation of all -her feelings, which Beatrice--whose wilder and more daring nature -scoffed at such scruples in her own instance--had displayed in this -choice of her disguise, Eugenie was eagerly thanking her for all her -consideration; but her friend cut her short, to hasten her new and -unusual toilet, taking care, however, as indeed she had hitherto done, -to avoid, even by any eager hurry, alarming her more timid companion -in the outset of their perilous undertaking. - -The dress, chosen by an experienced eye, fitted admirably in every -respect, with the exception of the shoes, which were far too large for -Eugenie's small feet. The robe, however, was sufficiently long to -conceal this defect, in a great degree; and, when all was complete, -Beatrice gazed over the changed appearance of her fair friend with a -smile of gay satisfaction. - -"Well, Eugenie," she exclaimed, "certainly you are the prettiest -little abbé that ever was seen; but, nevertheless, you will do -admirably. Only remember not to uncover your head, for your ringlets -will betray you. See how I manage mine! I can pull off my hat without -fear; cannot you do the same? Only cut off those two lower curls at -the side; they will grow again in a month." - -"I will cut them off altogether, with all my heart," answered Eugenie. -But her friend assured her that such a sacrifice of her bright locks -was not necessary; and showing her how she herself contrived to -conceal in one mass her own profusion of dark hair, she soon put that -of Mademoiselle de Menancourt into the same form, but still bade her -uncover her head as little as possible, lest the want of all tonsure -should call attention, and betray her disguise. - -"And now, Eugenie, take some refreshment," said Beatrice; "meat to -give you strength,--for you may have far to walk ere morning--and wine -to give you courage; for, after all, I doubt the resolution of that -little heart; and depend upon it, that the only sure means of carrying -through a great undertaking is to begin boldly, and go on without -stopping. But I hear your girl, Caroline, in the other room; she had -better bring the refreshments in here, lest we should be interrupted." - -Beatrice, accordingly, called the maid in; and not small was the -girl's astonishment to behold the transformation that had taken place -in the person of her mistress during her short absence. Beatrice, -however, suffered no exclamations; and while Eugenie, whose appetite -had not been increased by all the events of the night, took what -refreshment she could, her friend proceeded to give directions to the -_suivante_ concerning the course that was to be pursued after her -mistress's departure. - -"In case any one returns to the house to-night," she said, "seeking -the priest, all you have to reply is, that you know nothing about him, -and that your mistress is in her own chamber in deep grief. I do not -think, however, that any one will come; and, in that case, by eight -o'clock to-morrow--for Mayenne does not rise before--go yourself to -Madame de Montpensier, and with a grave and serious face ask to see -your mistress, adding, before she can answer you that you have brought -her such apparel as she may stand in need of for the morning. Mind, -you must not move a muscle of your face! She will instantly be all -astonishment, and ask if you are mad; then tell her that, about this -hour to-night, a gay page and a young abbé came here saying, that they -brought a letter from her Highness, and took your mistress away with -them, as if to the Hotel de Guise, to which place you were directed to -bring various things the next morning. Will not that do Eugenie?" she -continued, turning to her friend, "and am I not fit to be a general of -reitters?" - -Eugenie smiled, but replied, "Suppose they do not believe her, -Beatrice, and send to examine the other servants?" - -"Oh! I am prepared for all that," replied Beatrice. "As soon as ever -we are gone, send the women to bed, good Caroline, and dispatch the -greater part of the men upon different errands: you can direct two of -them to my house, bidding them wait till my return. One you can send -to the Count d'Aubin's, to inquire whether he has really set out for -Maine; and while these are gone, explain yourself to those whom you -can best trust amongst the others, telling them simply, that if any -inquiries are made, they have merely to keep to the same story about -the abbé and the page which you are going to tell." - -"But suppose we are asked to describe the abbé and the page, lady, -what are we to do then?" demanded the woman. - -"Why, describe them, to be sure," replied Beatrice. "Here we are, take -an exact picture of us. You cannot do better; and if you say, that -your mistress went away in our company, you will but say the truth. -Now I bethink me, you may as well add, that you think you have seen -the page somewhere before, and rather believe that he is in the -service of the Count d'Aubin--which is true too, Eugenie, when all -things are wisely considered, though we are serving him against his -will. But now, my pretty abbé--I shall call you Eugene for the -future--we must lose no more time. Run down, Caroline, and see that -the door at the foot of the back stairs is open, and give a glance -round the court-yard, to make sure that it is clear." - -The girl, with a ready promptitude in man[oe]uvring, for which French -_soubrettes_ are not unjustly famed, required no farther explanations, -having that internal consciousness of great resources of intrigue, -which rendered her quite confident of being able to make up a new -story, or to mend the old one for the occasion, in case anything in -Beatrice's plan went wrong. Tripping away then through the unused -apartments, to the back staircase that led out into the court, she -descended to the bottom, and gently unclosing the door, to the extent -of about a hand's breadth, closed it again as quietly, and returned to -the two ladies with the unpleasant tidings, that all the male -attendants belonging to the house were standing under the arch of the -_porte-cochčre_, apparently talking over the events of the evening. - -"Get ye down then, Caroline, to the _maītre de hōtel_," cried -Beatrice; "bid him express your mistress's thanks to the honest -fellows for their attachment; and tell him, in her name, to call them -into some room, where their voices will not be heard by the spies of -the League, and to give them each a bottle of the best Burgundy, to -drink to their lady's health and deliverance, and confusion to her -enemies and persecutors." - -With a smile at the lady's readiness and resources, the _soubrette_ -ran off to obey; and in a few minutes returned with the better news, -that all the men were safely housed, with bottles before them which -would occupy them for some time. Beatrice then drew Eugenie's arm -through her own, and led the way towards the staircase, followed by -the _suivante_, for the purpose of closing the doors behind them. - -Eugenie felt that her happiness for life was at stake; that she was -taking the only means to save herself from oppression, persecution, -and, in all probability, ultimate misery. She felt that the object was -worth any exertion; that if ever she displayed energy, resolution, and -courage, this was the moment in which they were all most needed: and -yet it were vain to say, that her heart did not palpitate; that her -knees did not shake; and that her trembling hand did not feel like a -piece of ice, even in the midst of a hot and sultry night of August. - -Beatrice perceived her agitation; and, though her own firm heart did -not share in her friend's terrors, she felt for her deeply, and -endeavoured to support her by every means in her power. "Fear not, -dear Eugenie!" she said, "fear not! Be assured that ere I came hither, -I took every means to ensure success; and that we shall not pass along -two hundred yards of the way without finding some one stationed by me -to aid and protect us in case of need. I have spared neither gold nor -thought, Eugenie; and, in this world, gold, and thought, and courage, -will do everything; so there wants nothing but the courage, my fair -friend, and that you must try to have." - -"I will! I will!" whispered Eugenie in return. "But, indeed, Beatrice, -I cannot but find it terrible to go out thus alone into the streets of -a strange, turbulent, vicious city, in the dress of a different sex, -and with no one but another girl to guide and protect me!" - -"Not terrible at all," replied Beatrice. "It is but what many a gay -light heart would do for a jest, and many a base heart for a worse -purpose. It is only on account of the great stake we are playing for, -that you feel terrified, Eugenie; but that, on the contrary, should -give you courage." - -By this time they had reached the top of the back staircase, the -narrowness of which obliged them to descend one by one. Beatrice, -holding the lamp, led the way, and Eugenie followed. At the bottom of -the stairs, the fair Italian, telling the maid who accompanied them -that she must find her way back in the dark, blew out the light, and -gently unclosed the door. The moment she did so, the summer air rushed -in; and though it was as soft and warm as the breath of southern -spring, it felt chill to Eugenie's cheek, while the rolling sound of -carriage-wheels, in some distant street, made her shrink back upon the -maid as if she were already detected. Beatrice glanced her eye quickly -around the court, and seeing that it was vacant, took Eugenie's hand -to lead her on. The maid, at the same time, feeling sure that her -mistress would gain more courage as soon as all means of retreat were -cut off, kissed her affectionately on either cheek, by way of -leave-taking, and gently supported her forward till she was actually in -the court, then suddenly closed the door; and Eugenie heard the lock -turn within. For a moment her heart sunk; but making a great effort, -and recalling the image of the Count d'Aubin, she hurried forward with -Beatrice across the court to a small door which opened into the back -street. - -When one is in haste there is always some impediment. The door was -locked, and though the key was in it, it fell out of Beatrice's hand -as she attempted to turn it, and rattled on the pavement. Some moments -passed ere it could be found again, during which time Eugenie's -courage waned fast. At length, however, the key was recovered, and -placed in the lock, but ere the door was opened, some one rang the -bell at the front gate. Eugenie felt as if her fate was sealed, and -clung to the doorway for support. Luckily, however, no servant loves -to obey the summons of a bell; and Eugenie's attendants, happy in -their Burgundy, resolved that the visitor should ring again. Ere that -occurred, Beatrice, with a steady hand, had turned the lock, the door -opened; and springing through after her friend, Eugenie de Menancourt -stood in the streets of Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -Taking Eugenie by the arm to give some support to her tottering frame, -Beatrice hurried on, and they reached the end of the street in safety. -As they were turning into another, however, a man who was walking -slowly on the other side of the way paused to mark them in their -advance towards him, and seemingly attracted by a certain degree of -agitation as well as haste in their demeanour, crossed over and -accosted them:-- - -"What now, my young rovers!" he exclaimed. "Whither away so fast? Some -intrigue, I warrant!" - -"What is it to you?" demanded Beatrice, turning towards him fiercely, -while she still hurried on, holding up the trembling form of her timid -friend. "If no one meddles with your intrigues, meddle you with no -one's either." - -"What is it to me!" cried the stranger. "Do you not perceive that I am -the captain of the quarter? and I doubt you have been about some -notorious evil, by your haste and this young lad's trembling;" and, as -he spoke, he laid a somewhat rude grasp upon Eugenie's arm. - -"By the blessed Union, and the holy catholic faith!" exclaimed -Beatrice, in a tone that made the man start back, "if you hold his arm -another moment, I will drive my dagger into you, twice as far as Saint -Jacques Clement did the other day into the tyrant at St. Cloud;" and, -without hesitation, she drew the weapon out of its sheath, and brought -the gleaming blade so near the man's breast that he dropped Eugenie's -arm, and laid his hand upon his sword. - -Bursting into a loud laugh, Beatrice taunted him with his fright; and -putting up her dagger, hurried on, diverting the stranger's attention -by raillery, till at the corner of another street, Eugenie saw her -raise her two fingers in the moonlight, and the next moment a man -sprang out from a gateway on the dark side of the way; and running -forward as fast as possible, as if intending to pass them, he rushed -full against their undesired companion, and laid him prostrate in the -gutter in the middle of the street. Then taking the first word of -quarrel, he stopped and turned to abuse the fallen man for not getting -out of his way, while Beatrice and her companion hurried on, and were -soon at a distance from the scene of strife. - -"Matthew managed that well!" exclaimed Beatrice, when she thought -herself at a sufficient distance to pause and take breath; "I must -promote that fellow to some better office for his skill." - -"Then that was one of your own people?" said Eugenie, with her -confidence in the success of their endeavour somewhat strengthened by -every new proof of the foresight and precaution which her fair -companion had used to ensure support. "But what if the captain of the -quarter calls up the guard, and takes him into custody?" - -"Captain of the quarter!" she exclaimed, with a laugh, "and did you -believe that? Do you not know that, in these times, every one assumes -what name he pleases? Captain of the quarter, indeed! Rather some -_filou_ or some _escroc_, who seeing two youths fresh from an idle -scrape, as he thought, fancied he could lay a tribute on their purse -as the price of his silence and departure." - -Still hurrying on, Beatrice of Ferrara led the way through a number of -streets towards the gates of the city; but, warned by their late -adventure, she no longer proceeded at such a rapid pace. Assuming, on -the contrary, somewhat of a swagger in her air, yet still holding -Eugenie firm by the arm, she walked along, displaying no bad imitation -of the vastly important demeanour of some noble page, who, just -liberated from his mother's careful eye, overlays the inexperienced -timidity of youth with affected self-confidence. - -More than once quitting the quieter and less frequented streets, -Beatrice was obliged to lead the way into others, through which the -human tide that rarely ebbs entirely in the city of Paris, was still -flowing on, though the hour was approaching to midnight. Eugenie's -heart beat quick at every fresh group that they encountered, and many -a pang crossed her bosom, and many an unseen blush passed over her -cheek, at some of the scenes that she thus for the first time -witnessed in the streets of the metropolis. Twice as they walked -along, Beatrice paused for a moment to speak a single word to persons -who seemed to be common passengers, and Eugenie, whose timid glance -was frequently cast behind, remarked that the men to whom her -companion spoke turned and followed at the distance of a few paces. At -length, as they approached the extremity of the Faubourg St. Germain, -Beatrice whispered in her ear, "It will be impossible to pass the -gates at this hour of the night, and, therefore, we must take shelter -till the morning begins to dawn in a place of refuge which I have -prepared." - -Eugenie expressed her willingness to do anything her companion thought -fit; and in a few moments Beatrice stopped opposite to a small house -in the suburb, and pushing the door which was open, led the way in. -All was darkness within; and Eugenie, though she had the most perfect -confidence in her friend, felt her terror increased at the aspect of -the place. Taking her hand, however, Beatrice led her on, up a narrow -staircase, and through a still narrower passage, to a door at which -she knocked for admittance. It was instantly opened, and the next -moment Eugenie found herself in a neat, plainly furnished room, where -two of Beatrice's women, whom she had frequently seen before, stood -ready to receive them. The moment they had entered, Beatrice cast her -arms round her; and kissing her tenderly, exclaimed, "Now, my sweet -friend, I trust we are safe; to-morrow morning, I think, we shall be -able to pass the gates without obstruction, and the rest of our -expedition will be easy." - -"Thank God!" cried Eugenie, sinking down into her seat. "Thank God! -and next to him, Beatrice, I have to thank you!" - -"Spare your thanks to me, Eugenie," cried her companion, "till we have -reached the end of our journey. I will then try to hear them with -patience. But now, I dare say, you will think it strange that I have -not taken you to my own house, instead of bringing you here. But I -have three sufficient reasons for not doing so. First, because on many -accounts they might suspect you of flying to me; secondly, because we -are here much nearer to the gate, and, thirdly, for a reason, Eugenie, -that you would scarcely suspect, which is, that I did not choose any -of the gossiping fraternity should say they had seen two gay-looking -youths enter the house of Beatrice of Ferrara at night, and remain -there till morning shone. So you see, Eugenie, that I, even I, am not -without fears of scandal; I who have not scrupled, when my purpose -served, to go disguised as I am now, and live disguised in the house -of a strange man. Ay, Eugenie I do not look so horrified, for I was -as safe there as in my own chamber. I was surrounded by own -attendants, whom I had contrived by one means or another to force into -his service. He was too simple and unsuspicious to suspect me, and -even had he discovered me, was too noble-minded to have misused his -advantage." - -"You do not mean," exclaimed Eugenie, "you do not mean surely the----" - -"Not the Count d'Aubin!" exclaimed Beatrice, with a blush that spread -like lightning over her cheek, and forehead, and temples; "not the -Count d'Aubin! I would not have trusted myself within his gates in -this guise for millions of kingdoms. No, not to have obtained a -century of the brightest happiness that ever yet shone upon the path -of mortal!" - -"I did not mean him," replied Eugenie, smiling; "I meant the Marquis -of St. Real." - -"Then you have divined more shrewdly than I thought you would," -replied Beatrice. "But I will tell you all that story another time," -she added, quitting suddenly a subject on which she evidently wished -to speak, but did not know well how to proceed. "What was I saying? -Oh! that I feared to have two gay-looking youths seen to enter my -house at this hour; but the fact is, Eugenie, I have found that by -caution and propriety, and determination in certain things, I have -acquired, as it were, a right prescriptive to be as wild, and as -daring, and as unhesitating as I like in all others,--but now, my fair -friend, let us think of the present moment. You have four good hours -to rest yourself ere we set out. In yonder room you will find a bed; -and one of my girls shall sit by you, while you lie down to repose, if -you are afraid of sleeping in a strange apartment. Yet stay, I must -have those delicate shoes of yours; for ere we set out to-morrow, we -shall need a pair more conformable to your dress, and must send a -model to my own shoemaker, who perhaps may have some that will fit. He -is accustomed to my whims; and will not mind being roused out of his -bed to serve me. In the meantime, I must change my dress and hasten -away; for I am determined to show myself, if but for an hour, at the -fete given to-night by old Madame de Gondi, so as to turn away all -suspicion from the right direction. I will be back long ere it be time -to set out to-morrow." - -Exhausted with all she had gone through, grief, terror, mental -exertion, and corporeal fatigue, Eugenie de Menancourt gladly availed -herself of the opportunity of repose. Casting off her upper robe, but -without undressing herself farther, she lay down to rest. She did not -refuse, however, the attendance of one of Beatrice's women; for danger -and terror, instead of losing their effect on her mind by custom, had -only rendered her more timid and apprehensive. - -For more than an hour, agitation prevented Eugenie from sleeping; but -towards two o'clock weariness prevailed, and she sunk into profound -slumber. It seemed scarcely a moment, however, ere she was roused by -some one touching her arm; and she found Beatrice standing beside her, -while the grey light that found its way into the room through the open -window showed that she had slept longer than she imagined. - -"It is time for us to depart, Eugenie," said her friend, "and -unwillingly I must break your short repose; but I see the market carts -coming in; showing both that the gates are open, and that the siege of -Paris is not only raised in name but in reality. We must make the best -of our time, Eugenie; for in five hours more your absence may be -discovered." - -Eugenie de Menancourt needed no admonitions to haste. Her dress was -soon resumed, her shoes tried on and found to fit tolerably, her hair -re-arranged so as to conceal its length; and once more taking -Beatrice's arm, she proceeded down the narrow staircase to the door of -the house, where, stretched upon some benches in the passage, lay two -or three men in different costumes, who instantly started upon their -feet as the two maskers approached. - -"Do not come out," said Beatrice, stopping to speak with them, "but -look forth from the side window where you can see the gate. If I hold -up my handkerchief, run up to help us; and, good faith, you must even -risk a hard blow or two, should need be; but if you see Andrew join -us, or if I do not hold up my handkerchief, be sure that all is safe, -and return home with the women." - -The men bowed and made way; and Eugenie, accompanying her companion -through the doorway, found herself once more in the street in the -cool, clear light of the early morning. During the former part of her -flight, she had thought the very darkness increased her terror; but -now as she walked on, with faltering steps, in an unwonted garb, and -fancying that every passing eye must penetrate her disguise, she would -have given worlds for night once more to afford her the covering of -its dull obscurity. - -The gate lay at the distance of not more than a hundred yards before -them; and Beatrice whispering, "Do not be surprised or alarmed at -anything you see or hear, for I expect a confederate here," led the -way with a quick step. - -Not to be alarmed, however, was out of Eugenie's power; for even the -great interests she had at stake, though they prompted to exertion, -were without effect in giving birth to courage: nor was the sight of -the gate at that moment calculated to remove her fears, for although -the siege was, as Beatrice said, absolutely at an end, and the royal -army already many leagues from Paris, yet sentinels were to be seen in -every direction, and a number of the fierce-looking soldiers of the -League still hung about the gates, some examining the market carts as -they entered the city, some jesting with the countrywomen who -accompanied them. - -Beatrice advanced boldly, however, her confidence and presence of mind -appearing to increase as the dangers became more imminent, and gliding -between two carts which stood in the archway, she was leading Eugenie -on, when the _lanceprisade_ of the guard darted out of the gate-house, -and caught her by the arm. - -"Ha, ha! my young truant," he exclaimed, "whither away so fast? none -passes here without question: this is not the door of a church, young -man!" - -Beatrice shook off the man's hold without showing the slightest -symptom of alarm or agitation; and ever ready with a reply, she -answered, "Not the door of a church! Is it the door of a Huguenot -_prźche_ then? and are you a _maheutre_ minister? Come, come! what do -you stop us for? They told me that the Bearnois and his beasts were -gone, and that we could go out in safety and see where the Huguenots -roasted their apples." - -"You have more malice in your heads than that, my good youths, I have -a notion," replied the soldier. "We must have your names at least. -Give us your name, my good boy." - -"Mine is Monseigneur le Duc du Petit Chatelet," replied Beatrice, -laughing; "so put that down in your book." - -The soldier shook his finger at her good-humouredly enough. "You are a -wild one," he said, "and will break many a country wench's heart, I'll -warrant you, ere you be done with it. But what is your name, my pretty -little abbé, that stand there holding by the cart and blushing like a -girl of fifteen?" - -Eugenie hesitated, and blushed a thousand times more deeply than -before; but Beatrice instantly came to her aid, exclaiming, "Do not -tell him your real name, silly boy; have you not wit to make one? What -has he to do with your real name? Monsieur le Soldat, or better still, -Monsieur le Lanceprisade, this gentleman here present is called L'Abbé -des Ponts et Chaussees,--so put that down in your book also!" - -"Very well, I will," replied the man; "but before I let you go -farther, I must know whether these are your real names or not, and I -think we have one within there who can tell us." - -Eugenie's heart sunk, and even Beatrice's confidence seemed a little -shaken, while the soldier, turning to some of his companions, -exclaimed, "send out the old man there, and we shall soon see if he -recognises these two pretty youths!" - -The moment after, an elderly man, dressed much in the costume of a -major-domo belonging to some old family of distinction, came forth -from the gate-house and approached them, holding up his hands and -eyes, as if in horror and astonishment. Eugenie looked to Beatrice, to -see what was to come next; but a suppressed smile upon the countenance -of her fair friend re-assured her, although the words that accompanied -that smile tended to a contrary effect. "We are caught now, Eugene," -she exclaimed aloud, "we are caught now, that is clear!" - -At the same time the old man advanced, crying, in a lamentable tone, -"Ah! young gentlemen, young gentlemen! how could you play such a -trick? There's my Lord the Marquis been storming like mad, and your -lady-mother crying her eyes out, ever since you left the chateau. We -thought you must have fallen into the hands of the Huguenots, and -there has been nothing but fear and anxiety through the whole -household. You, Monsieur Leonard, your father said he could understand -your running away, for you are always in mischief, but how you could -persuade Monsieur l'Abbé here to accompany you, he could not -understand!" - -"I am sure if my father be in such a rage," replied Beatrice, in the -tone of a spoilt boy, caught in some trick more outrageous than -ordinary, "I am sure if my father be in such a rage, I shall not go -back till he is cool again; and so you may go and tell him, good -Master Joachim!" - -"Oh, let us go! let us go!" said Eugenie in a low tone; and now -comprehending her companion's scheme, but anxious to bring the scene -to an end as speedily as possible, "Oh, let us go! it is useless to -delay." - -"That is right! Monsieur l'Abbé, that is right!" cried the old man; -"but you need be under no fear of your father either, Master Leonard, -for good Father Philip has made him promise that nothing shall be said -if you do but come home quietly. There is the carriage, as you see, -standing ready, with Jean the lackey, and nothing shall be said I -promise you; but if you will not go peaceably, of your own will, I -must make you go whether you will or not, and these good gentlemen of -the guard will help me." - -"Ay, that we will," cried the lanceprisade. "Two young truants! If ye -were not two such pretty boys, I should feel tempted to make your -backs so well acquainted with the staff of my halbert, that you would -jump into the carriage fast enough, I will answer for it!" - -"We will not give thee the trouble, most redoubtable hero," answered -Beatrice, in a mocking tone. "But, as we must go, there is a crown for -you and your pot companions to drink to the health of the Duc du Petit -Chatelet and the Abbé des Ponts et Chaussees." - -The man laughed and took the money; and Beatrice, with the same gay -and swaggering air, marched forward through the gate, followed by -Eugenie; while the old man came after; the lanceprisade of the guard -taking care to whisper in his ear, with a knowing look ere he went, -"You had better look sharp to them, or that young chap will give you -the slip yet; he is as full of mischief as a loaded cannon." - -"Ay! ay! I will look to them," said the old man, with a solemn shake -of the head; "I will look to them, sir Lanceprisade, and many thanks -for your kind help and assistance in taking them." - -Thus saying, he followed Beatrice to the side of the carriage or -rather _chaise-roulante_, and having assisted her and Eugenie in, took -his seat in one of the boots. The lackey, who had waited with the -carriage, now closed the leathern curtain, which served the purpose of -a door, and then springing up beside the driver, who sat ready in his -seat, gave the signal for putting the whole in motion. The short whip -cracked, the two strong horses darted forward, and, after drawing to -its full extension the complication of ropes, leather straps, and iron -rings, which formed the harness, started the heavy carriage from the -spot where it rested in the full force of its _vis inertię_; and in a -moment, Eugenie, with a heart palpitating with joy, felt herself -rolling away from the gates of Paris, over roads which were rough, -indeed, with the recent passage of waggons and artillery, but every -step of which seemed to her hopes to conduct to safety and to peace. - -For her part, Beatrice cast herself back in the carriage; her -lightness, her gaiety, her air of daring passed away; and for some -minutes she remained with her hands clasped over her eyes, as if -exhausted with all the exertion she had made. When she looked up, she -was still grave, and there was a languor about her which spoke plainly -that all the ease, and the courage, and the unconcernedness which she -had displayed through the difficult scenes just passed, had been, in -fact, the triumph of a ready and determined mind over the weakness of -a frame as delicate as that of the most timid of her sex. - -"We are safe, Eugenie!" she said, "we are safe! and now give me -credit. Have I not played my part well? But it has almost been too -much for me. When by myself I can go through anything, but I was -alarmed and agitated for you; I feared not only lest you would be -overtaken, but lest you should sink under the trial. But now I trust -you are safe, dear Eugenie, for these horses go fast. We have nearly -five hours before us ere Mayenne will be up; ere he will be well -awake, and his eyes rubbed, and his boots pulled on, we shall have an -hour more; then to discover the whole, to think which way we are gone, -and to cross-examine your servants, will bring him to dinner time: the -poor man must eat, you know; and what with other business, and the -time required to give orders, and mount horsemen, and consult with his -sister, the day will be done, so that we may well calculate upon its -being to-morrow morning ere any one sets out to seek us. Therefore, my -Eugenie, with God's help, you are safe!" - -"Thanks! thanks, Beatrice! A thousand thanks, my sister, my more than -sister!" cried Eugenie. "Well, indeed, as you say, and skillfully have -you played your part. But you would say I have not played mine badly -either, if you knew all that I have suffered, especially when we were -stopped at the gate. If you had told me, however, that you had got -such a comedy ready for our deliverance, I should have been better -prepared." - -"But I knew no more than yourself," replied Beatrice, "what was to -come next; I had only time after your letter reached me to take -general measures. Luckily I had a number of my own people around me -without the walls of Paris. I bade Joachim have a carriage and horses -prepared this morning, and to hang about as near as possible, telling -whatever story he thought fit, if questioned. Thus, when the soldier -spoke to me, I took great care not to say a word that could contradict -my confederate's story, whatever it was; but kept to general nonsense, -which could signify nothing under any circumstances. As to the comedy -which you talk of, between Joachim and myself, it was like one of -those mysteries which people play in the convents, where the names of -the different characters, and some general idea of the story, is all -that is given, and the actors fill up the speeches as they think best -at the time. But my good major-domo played his part admirably too, and -shall not have reason to repent of it when we come to speak of -rewards." - -"And, now, whither are we going?" demanded Eugenie; "for this does not -seem to me to be the road towards Maine." - -"The road towards Maine!" exclaimed Beatrice--"why, my dear, simple -girl, that would be going into the lion's den, indeed. They will seek -you there in the first instance, and we must give time to let their -search be fully over ere we think of going near to Maine. At present -we are following, as fast as ever we can, the march of the king's -army, and I hope to pass the rear-guard to-night." - -"But may not that be dangerous?" demanded Eugenie. "We have no pass -from them; and if any of the parties of soldiers meet us, we may be -taken and discovered, and perhaps maltreated." - -"No fear of that," answered Beatrice; and then added, with a smile -that called the warm blood up into Eugenie's cheek, "we can send for -the Marquis of St. Real, you know, Eugenie. But, no, no! Do not be -afraid of that, or anything else. I have orders and safe-conducts in -the king's own hand. In short, Eugenie, I do not think that there is -one thing, which can tend to your safety, that has been forgotten by -Beatrice of Ferrara." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -The night was dull and rainy; a thick shroud of clouds was drawn over -the sky, so that the summer moon could not look down with any of her -sweet smiles upon her wandering companion through the blue fields of -space; and the air was loaded with a foggy dampness, through which -fell a few drops, increased every now and then to a momentary shower, -heavy, but brief. The valley of the Seine was dark and gloomy, and the -night was so obscure, that nothing met the eye of the coachman who -drove the carriage containing Beatrice of Ferrara and her fair friend, -except the glistening of the river as it wound along not far from the -road, and the dull and somewhat indistinct line of the highway itself, -which, bad and sandy at all times, was now, as we have already said, -channelled and cut up by the passage of heavy carts and still heavier -artillery. - -The second day after their flight from Paris was now drawing to its -close. Beatrice, from hearing that some of the troops of the League -had been hovering about in the neighbourhood of the Pont de l'Arche, -had kept quiet during the latter part of the day, in a farm-house, -where they had sought refreshment at noon, for themselves and horses, -and was now proceeding as rapidly as possible on the high road, -believing that the parties of the Union would not expose themselves to -the sudden and brilliant strokes of so active a commander as Henri -Quatre, by following his march too closely during the night. Eugenie, -on her part, though habit and distance from her immediate persecutors -had removed part of the load from her mind, was still agitated by many -a fear; and her terrors were not a little increased by proceeding in -the darkness over a road, the roughness of which, and the jolts -thereby occasioned, precluded all possibility of conversation. -Beatrice could but speak a word of comfort every now and then, which -Eugenie could scarcely hear, as the carriage ground its way through -the sand, or rattled over the large uneven stones. Thus had the two -fair girls proceeded for nearly two hours, in the darkness, when a cry -of, "Who goes there? Stand! Give the word!" brought the carriage to a -sudden stop, and roused all Eugenie's fears again to the highest -pitch. The lackey, who sat beside the coachman, jumped down, and went -on to speak with the soldier who had challenged him; and old Joachim, -who sat in the leathern projection at the side not unaptly called the -boot, got out, and went on also. - -"Oh! Beatrice, what is this?" cried Eugenie, drawing nearer to her -friend in her increasing terror. - -"Call me Leonard," replied Beatrice, in a gay tone; "call me Leonard! -till I have got off my boy's clothes at least. What is this, do you -ask, little timid fawn. Why nothing but the outpost of King Henry. -They will let us pass in a minute." - -At that moment Joachim returned, and approached the side of the -carriage next to Beatrice, saying, "This is his Majesty's outpost, -sir, commanded by the Marquis of St. Real; and they demand to examine -who are in the carriage before they let it pass." - -"Oh, he will know me directly!" whispered Eugenie to her fair -companion; "I would not have him see me in this garb, Beatrice, for -the world!" - -"He will not examine the carriage himself, sweet girl," replied her -companion in the same low tone; "he will know nothing about it. Some -of his ancients or lieutenants have their orders for the night, of -course." - -"But we cannot go much farther to-night," rejoined Eugenie; "and we -shall be to-morrow in the midst of his troops. Oh, Beatrice, do not! -If I should be found there, the people would say I had followed him." - -"What can we do?" asked her companion with a smile, which the darkness -concealed from the eyes of Eugenie. "Joachim, show the sentry the -king's pass; but ask if there be not a road somewhere hereabout which -leads to the little town of Heudbouville. If there be, direct the -coachman thither; for we love not to sleep within the outposts of an -army, lest the enemy should treat us to an _alerte_. Gain us the good -sentinel's bitter contempt, Joachim, by telling him that we are two -cowardly boys, who hold the fire-eating soldiers of the League in -great terror." - -"We have passed the road to Heudbouville some hundred yards or so," -replied the attendant: "but we can easily turn the carriage here, for -there is more room than ordinary;" and having satisfied the outpost -that no evil was intended by the denizens of the carriage, Joachim, -the coachman, and the lackey, performed the difficult feat of making -the ill-constructed vehicle revolve upon its axis, and brought the -horses' heads back again on the way to Paris. The road to the little -village which Beatrice had mentioned was soon found, and for about an -hour the carriage rolled on, without any further obstruction than was -given by stones and ruts, which threatened to scatter the wheels of -the luckless _chaise-roulante_ to the four winds of heaven, in some of -the manifold jolts to which it was subjected; but at length the -coachman came to a halt, and seemed consulting with the lackey beside -him, who in turn put back his head to speak to Joachim in the boot. - -"What is the matter, Joachim?" demanded Beatrice, perceiving that some -impediment had occurred, and trusting more to her own skill and -presence of mind than to the readiness of her attendants, although -they were selected expressly for their shrewdness and promptitude. -"What is the matter? Why does the coachman stop?" - -Ere Joachim could reply, however, there was the sound of galloping -horse, and the next moment the carriage was surrounded by a number of -cavaliers, whose polished arms, as they rode up with a loud "_Qui -vive?_" caught and reflected the little light that still existed in -the air. - -"_Vive le diable!_" replied Joachim, who was a great deal too wise to -answer seriously till he had ascertained to what party the -interrogators belonged; "_Vive le diable!_ why do you stop two young -gentlemen, going to the schools, on the highway? We are neither -soldiers nor robbers, nor anything else that you have aught to do -with." - -"Well answered, Joachim!" muttered Beatrice, as she leaned forward to -examine the persons of the horsemen nearest her; but the darkness was -too complete to suffer the faces of any of them to be distinguishable, -or to allow the colours which they wore t« be seen. Beatrice, however, -caught a glance of the peculiar cross of the house of Lorraine upon -one of the cuirasses, as the fiery horse of the rider pranced by the -side of the carriage; and she instantly interposed, exclaiming, "Speak -to me a moment, Monseigneur! I am the young Baron de Bigny, son of the -Marquis de Bigny at Amiens, and am going with my brother here, the -Abbé de Bigny, to La Fleche. I do not know whether you are of the -party of the king or of the Holy League and Union; but I am sure you -will not stop two youths like us, but let us pass quietly." - -"But this is not the right way from Amiens to La Fleche, my good -youth," replied the officer. "How came you thus thirty miles out of -your road?" - -"We came here to get out of the way of the Huguenots," replied -Beatrice; who had now gained a better sight of the cross of Lorraine, -which was to be found alone on the side of the League. "We had nearly -fallen into their hands an hour ago; and--but perhaps you are one of -that party too, Monseigneur; if so, I beg your pardon with all--" - -"No, no, I am no _maheutre_," replied the officer; "but, do you know, -my good youth, it would not surprise me if you were. Methinks I should -know the voice of Auguste de Bigny, seeing I am his first cousin; and -so, without more ado, I shall march you up to the village, to see who -you really are, for I am very sure you are not the person for whom you -give yourself out. Come, coachman, drive on, and we will give you an -escort which you did not expect, I rather fancy." - -"I went a step too far," whispered Beatrice to Eugenie; "but do not -fear, dear Eugenie, I will manage matters yet.--Many thanks, many -thanks, Sir Cavalier," she continued aloud. "Drive on as he bids you, -Jean Baptiste. I shall soon amuse all the companions of Monsieur -Francois de Bigny by the history of his adventures in the well at -Houdlaincourt. How he went to make love to the miller's daughter; and -the miller and his men caught him, and put him in a sack, and let him -three times down into the well, maugre his high rank and gallant -bearing, and brought him up, all white and dripping, like a dumpling -out of the pot. Ha, ha! Monsieur Francois de Bigny, how will you like -that story told to the _gens d'armes_ over their wine?--I never take -the name of any one I do not know," she said in a low voice to -Eugenie, while the officer paused irresolute, and spoke a few words to -Joachim and the coachman. "There is many a good tale to be told -against that noble cavalier, which I had from Adela de Bigny, his -cousin, and which he will not much relish; and I doubt not he will -send us on to escape laughter; for though he may have found out that I -am not his young cousin Auguste, he must see that I know all his -history." - -What would have been the result of Beatrice's expedient cannot be -told; for at the very moment that Monsieur de Bigny was speaking to -the coachman, and inquiring apparently whether the person who knew so -much of his adventure was or was not really his young cousin, there -appeared, upon what seemed--as far as the darkness suffered it to be -discovered,--a sloping field upon the right of the road, a multitude -of small lights in a line of about two hundred yards long. - -"Down, down, in the bottom of the carriage!" cried Beatrice, who -appeared to comprehend at once what those small sparks of fire meant; -and she instantly crouched down below the seats, dragging Eugenie -after her: "the king's troops are upon them." - -As she spoke, a bright flash ran along in the same direction as the -lights, and then the loud rattle of musketry, while three or four -balls passed through the upper part of the carriage. Eugenie felt as -if she were about to faint; but the moment after there was the sound -of charging horse, and the whole space round the carriage became full -of strife and confusion. Little could be seen, except when every now -and then the flash of a pistol showed, for an instant apart of that -strange and exciting scene, a night skirmish; and it was only by the -sounds of blows and shots growing fainter and more faint around, that -Beatrice perceived the Leaguers had been beaten and driven up the road -by the royal forces. "Is any one of our people hurt?" she cried at -length, raising herself, and looking out. "Eugenie, you have not -suffered? Take courage, dear friend. Joachim, Joachim, where are -you--where are the men?" - -"Here, madam!" replied Joachim, creeping out from below the carriage. -"We ensconced ourselves here as soon as we saw the matches blown on -the hill--but what we shall do now, I do not know, for one of the -horses is killed." - -"That is unfortunate, indeed!" replied Beatrice; "but see, they are -fighting in the village;" and she pointed on to a spot where repeated -flashes of musketry might be seen gleaming between the dark masses of -the houses and other buildings in what seemed a small town. "Henry -Quatre is there himself," she said. "This is one of his daring -enterprises--to dislodge the League from his flank as he advances upon -Rouen, I dare say; but at all events we must wait till the matter is -settled one way or another. If he be forced to retreat, we must -retreat with him, Eugenie. If he drive out the Leaguers, the road will -be clear before us. Take heart! take heart, Eugenie!--why I thought I -was a terrible coward till I saw you." - -For about ten minutes possession of the village seemed to be severely -contested; but at the end of that time the firing ceased; the trumpets -might then be heard blowing a recall; and at the end of half an hour -the sound of a body of horse coming at an easy pace down the road was -distinguished at the spot where Beatrice and her trembling friend had -remained. - -"Ask the commander of the party to stop and speak with me, Joachim," -cried Beatrice; "run on and meet them. Tell them how we were stopped -by the League, and save me explanations." - -The man did as he was directed, and the moment after, a cavalier rode -up to the side of the carriage, saying, "your servant says you wish to -speak with me, young gentleman. I command this party. What want you -with me? One of your horses is shot, I see; but, good faith, I can -give you no other; for Ventre Saint Gris! I want more than I have got -of my own." - -"On my word, your Majesty must find me one, nevertheless!" answered -Beatrice, boldly. "If you have not forgot Beaumont en Maine, you will -understand that though an ass served my turn then, I must have a horse -now!" - -"Pardie, my friend the page!" cried Henry. "Then you have accomplished -your bold undertaking." - -"True, sire, I have," replied Beatrice, "as far as getting away from -Paris; but I had nearly lost all, by my own fault, this very moment, -and fallen into the hands of the League. I attempted what I thought a -_coup de maītre_, and was well nigh taken in my own trap." - -"The same misfortune has just befallen the League," replied Henry; -"they thought to get upon my flank, and take possession of Louviers, -but we have taught them that we do not slumber on such occasions. -However, my brave page, you run great risks in going forward on the -road where you now are. We have driven them out of the village, but -they will rally not far behind, for it was too dark to pursue them -far." - -"Then we will turn round," replied Beatrice; "and, escorted by kings -and princes, make the best of our way through your Majesty's host, -till we can sleep in peace a couple of leagues beyond your outposts." - -"The best plan you can follow," replied the king; "we will not ask you -even to pause and refresh yourselves, lest the morals of two such -simple boys should get corrupted by the license of our camp. Though -here is the Marquis of St. Real, within a hundred yards of us, would -doubtless be willing to receive one or both of you into his quarters." - -Eugenie instinctively shrunk back farther into the corner of the -carriage, and the king proceeded; "But we must get you a horse, at all -events. Colonel James, send up some of your arquebusiers to that -farm-house upon the hill, and see whether in the stables thereof you -can find a horse. As your fire has killed one of the beasts which were -dragging these two young gentlemen, it is but fit you should take the -trouble of providing them with another." - -The king waited to know if his embassy were successful; and after -having seen the soldiers return with a strong cart horse, which was -instantly harnessed to the carriage, in the place of the dead one, he -gave orders for a party of troopers to escort the young wanderers as -far as the Pont de l'Arche; and then, taking his leave, rode on -towards his camp. - -When the carriage was once more in motion, Eugenie breathed again; but -still, at every place where it stopped her terrors were renewed, and -she gazed out, with alarm and anxiety, upon the dark figures of the -soldiery, who watched with unsleeping vigilance in the camp of the -warrior monarch, till, at the Pont de l'Arche, which was the advanced -post of the king's army, the horse they had obtained was exchanged for -another, and they rolled on more smoothly towards the little hamlet of -St. Ouen. The fears of Eugenie de Menancourt were during those moments -of a very varied kind; for with her terrors so strongly roused as they -had been, she found it impossible to submit them entirely to the -influence of reason; and yet, strange to say, the thing she dreaded -most, after immediate personal danger was over, was to meet and be -known by the man whom she now felt, she loved more than any other -being upon earth. She shrunk from the thought of seeing St. Real in -the garb that she had assumed to escape from the persecution of his -cousin,--she shrunk even from the thought of seeing him, now that a -ceremony, however vain, illegal, and compulsory, had taken place -between her and any other; and though she felt, even to pain, how much -she detested the Count d'Aubin, and how much she loved St. Real, yet -it seemed to her as if she had wronged her love for him in not dying -sooner than suffering even the shadow of an engagement to pass between -herself and another. Thus, it was not till they had passed the extreme -outpost of the royal camp, and were rolling along in the quiet -darkness of the night, that she breathed at ease, free from the -constant expectation of seeing the Marquis of St. Real gallop up to -the side of the carriage, and recognise her under her disguise. - -At the little village of St. Ouen all the world was sound asleep; and -manifold were the strokes of sword hilts upon the door of the -_auberge_, many the shouts up to the unlistening windows, before the -inmates could be roused to comprehend that there were strangers on the -road demanding admission. At length, the hostess, half dressed, and -scarcely half awake, came scolding down the stairs, extremely angry -that anyone should travel at such unseemly hours; and on her steps -soon followed her husband, a big burly Norman, but shrewd withal, and -sufficiently sensible of his own interests to smother all expression -of annoyance, and give his guests the best welcome that he could. - -Early the next morning, the carriage was again in motion, but not -before some of the light troops of the matutinal monarch of France -were upon the road, and Eugenie was more than once alarmed by their -gazing boldly into the vehicle when the curtains were undrawn, and by -talking to the driver and the servants when the carriage was closed. -These parties, however, as they marched but slowly, and the carriage -went fast, were soon passed, and the rest of the journey proceeded as -peaceably as any journey could do in those disturbed and unhappy days. -Beatrice of Ferrara, after the experiment at Heudbouville, did not -suffer herself again to be drawn from the route which she had laid out -at first for her fair friend, but advanced as rapidly as possible -towards the sea-side, seeing security only in the hope of Henry's army -still interposing between them and the League, and thus preventing all -search for Eugenie de Menancourt in the direction which she had really -followed. - -"At all events, dear Eugenie," she said, as they approached Dieppe, -"here, upon the sea-coast, you will always have an opportunity of -escape to England, should need be; and I will take care that our -friend King Henry shall furnish you with such letters to the queen of -those bold islanders, as to ensure you protection and assistance. For -my part, you know, Eugenie, after a week or fortnight's rest, I must -leave you, if you can do without me. My destiny, dear girl, has to be -fulfilled, and I must back to Paris by a different road, both to hide -my having aught to do with your successful flight, and to watch the -progress of all on which my ultimate fate depends." - -"Would to Heaven," said Eugenie de Menancourt, "that I could have such -a happy and saving influence on your fate, Beatrice, as you have had -on mine! But I am destined only to be a burden to you, and to rely -upon you for everything, without knowing or comprehending the past or -the present, as far as it regards you, without understanding your -means, your wishes, or your purposes." - -"I will tell you all, dear Eugenie, I will tell you all," replied -Beatrice of Ferrara; "and then, as my daring rashness was necessary to -give vigour to your timid nature, your gentle counsel may now perhaps -tend to moderate and restrain my bold, wild schemes. But wait till we -come to a resting-place, and then in some sweet quiet cottage in green -Normandy, with the soft autumn sun shining upon our door, I will rest -beside you for a short time, and drawing you a picture of my wayward -fate, will see whether we cannot find means to give it a brighter -colouring and a happier hue." - -So spake Beatrice of Ferrara; but ere we go on to look into the -picture to which she alluded, we must beg the reader to pause for a -few minutes, upon some of those dull details, which in books calling -themselves historical romances serve the mind as bad post-houses on a -much-travelled road--places where, after scampering on for many a -league in pursuit of pleasure, the little traveller is obliged to -stop, kicking his heels in impatient irritation till the horses are -brought out, the harness prepared, the postilion has got into his -boots, the lash is put on his whip, and, in short, all is made ready -for carrying on that same little eager traveller, the human mind, once -more upon his way. - -Giving up, then, heroes and heroines, knights and ladies, we must -even follow the progress of that lumbering and uninteresting machine -called an army, and pause for a while to consider its clumsy and -crocodile-like movements. We have already seen that on the day -preceding Eugenie de Menancourt's escape from Paris, the camp of the -besieging Royalists had broken up; and that the gay and chivalrous -Henry Quatre led his meagre and somewhat ill-furnished host down the -bright and laughing banks of the Seine, in such a direction that, -should need be, he could either march across Normandy, and fall back -upon Touraine, or advance at once to the sea-coast, and cover the -disembarkation of his English allies. - -We have followed him some way on his march; but it would appear, that -inasmuch as the Royalists had been rather improvident of their -supplies, and had been found, during the life of Henry III. somewhat -unwilling to pay for the good things of this life, with which, at -first, the peasantry had been very willing to furnish them, a want of -provisions, both eatable and potable, had made its appearance in the -camps of St. Cloud and Meudon. The jaws of the Royalists had got -unaccustomed to maceration, and their lips to the taste of sweet -things; so that as they took their way through the pleasant little -towns and villages of Poissy, Triel, Meulan, Mantes, and sweet -Fontenay, they lived very nearly at free quarters amongst the -inhabitants, taking care to make the fat of the land through which -they now passed, compensate for the meagreness of the diet they had so -long endured. Nevertheless, as the king and his followers paid where -they could, promised where they could not pay, and never took toll of -rosy lips, except where there was a smile upon them, the people of the -country in general gave them a better character when they were gone -than might have been expected; and declared, that, after all, the -Huguenots were not so bad as they were called. - -In the meantime, as we have already shown, to diversify these -employments, a little interlude of fighting did now and then take -place; a town was now and then besieged and taken; and Henry IV. made -arrangements for giving the inhabitants of the loyal city of Rouen an -entertainment, which brings down the walls of a city more by the -double-bass of the cannon than by the shrill sound of the trumpet. -Pausing a sufficient time before the walls of that town to give and -receive various proofs of amity, which left his own host diminished by -several hundred men, and the garrison of the town less by perhaps -double that number, the king received news, which made him judge that -the situation of his army might be improved by a very rapid change of -air; and consequently without longer hesitation or delay, he struck -his tents, left success to follow, and at once led his troops to the -sea-side. - -Divining, however, that his enemies would anticipate with great -satisfaction the moment for driving his scanty forces into the sea, he -seemed resolved to disappoint them, if admirable dispositions could -effect that purpose; and choosing for his troops the strongest -position which he could discover, with their backs to the element and -their faces inland, he ranged them along the side of a fair and -beautiful hill, on the ridge of which still stands all which Time has -left of the old and interesting castle of Arques. - -Leaving the king and his men, however, thus posted for that battle -which covered with immortal renown the monarch and his little host, we -must turn for a moment to Paris, in order to investigate what -proceedings had taken place in the capital, and what were the tidings -which caused the monarch so suddenly to strike the tents he had -pitched before Rouen. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -The morning after Eugenie's departure, no small surprise was expressed -in the Hotel de Guise at the non-appearance of the priest, who had not -only performed the marriage ceremony for the Count d'Aubin, but also -rendered the much more important service of communicating to Mayenne -the approach of aid from the Duke of Parma. While Mayenne, in his -usual slow and deliberate manner, discussed the fact with his sister, -and, shrugging his shoulders, declared that if the good father did not -choose to come for his reward, he could not help it, the thought -crossed his mind that he had not yet seen his own confessor, who had -been carried off by the myrmidons of Bussy le Clerc; and although he -doubted not that the Chevalier d'Aumale had before this time set the -good priest at liberty, he determined to inquire farther: a vague -suspicion for the first time crossing his mind that all was not right -in regard to the transactions of the preceding evening. - -By this time the hand of the dial pointed to the hour of nine; and -Eugenie's maid Caroline, who, in order to give as much time to her -mistress as possible, had ventured to prolong the period at the end of -which she had been directed to present herself at the Hotel de Guise, -was even now at the door inquiring for the Duchess of Montpensier. Her -message was brought to that lady as she sat by her brother; and -although she comprehended not one word thereof, she saw that it in -some manner bore upon the point they were discussing, and ordered the -girl to be brought into the room. - -"He says that Mademoiselle de Menancourt's tire-woman has brought some -apparel for her mistress," she repeated, turning to her brother after -the attendant who made the announcement had left the room; "what can -this mean, Charles?" - -"I know not, Kate," he replied with a doubtful smile; "but when the -girl comes, make her repeat her message," appearing perfectly -unconcerned. - -Before he could add more, the tire-woman was in the saloon; and -playing her part with a natural talent which none but a French -_soubrette_ ever possessed, she approached towards Madame de -Montpensier, and with a low and reverent courtesy, and a look of the -most perfect simplicity, said, "I have brought all the things, your -Highness, that my mistress thought she would require; but in regard to -the filigree girdle, as I told her last night, I have not seen it for -these two months. It was given into charge to Laure, who was sent away -when my old lord died." And she went on into a long story, solely the -invention of her own brain for the occasion; but which was so -circumstantial and minute, and delivered with so much apparent -earnestness and sincerity, that Mayenne looked at Madame de -Montpensier, and Madame de Montpensier looked at Mayenne, with eyes in -which bewilderment and surprise were then plainly visible. - -"And pray what made you think that your mistress was here at all?" -demanded the Duchess, at length cutting across the thread of the -girl's story, which bade fair otherwise to be interminable. - -It was now the maid's turn to be surprised, and most skilfully did she -represent the passion of astonishment; standing before Madame de -Montpensier in silence, and looking at her without one trace of -comprehension in her eyes. "Pray what did your Highness say?" she -asked at length; "I did not understand you." - -"She demanded what made you think your mistress was here at all?" -repeated Mayenne, in a harsh voice. - -"Lord bless me, sir! Your Highness! Dear me! What made me think my -mistress was here?" cried the girl, with an affectation of wonder and -doubt and affright that was perfectly admirable. "Did not her Highness -send her own carriage for her last night, with a young abbé and a -page, and a billet sealed with green wax?" - -The story, as it had been prepared by Beatrice of Ferrara, now came -out at full, and the whole Hotel de Guise was soon in agitation and -confusion:--Madame de Montpensier alternately laughing and frowning, -Mayenne striding up and down the room, and vowing that if it were the -Count d'Aubin who had served him such a trick, he would find means to -make him rue it; and the maid Caroline weeping as bitterly as if she -had lost a lover or a gold necklace, and wringing her hands for her -poor mistress with all the phrase and circumstance of sorrow. - -In the midst of this scene the Chevalier d'Aumale appeared, informing -Mayenne that Bussy le Clerc denied all knowledge of his chaplain, and -that the guards at the Bastile were in the same story. Ere Mayenne, -however, could include Bussy le Clerc in his denunciations of -vengeance against the Count d'Aubin, the confusion of the whole was -rendered more confused by the apparition of the confessor himself, who -exculpated the demagogue by declaring that he had never been in the -Bastille, but, on the contrary, had been carried away by persons he -knew not, who, at a certain point, had put him into a carriage, and -blindfolded him. They had then lodged him for the night in a small -room with nothing but a bed, a crucifix, and a missal. Here, in mortal -terror, he had watched and prayed, till the grey of the dawn, when, -being again blindfolded, he was led out through a great many streets -and turnings, of whose name and nature of which he had not the -slightest conception, and at length finding himself free from the -hands of those who had held him, he uncovered his eyes, and perceived -that he was standing in the midst of the Pont Neuf, by the side of a -blind man who was singing detestable melodies to the discordant -accompaniment of that most ancient instrument the hurdy-gurdy. Tired, -frightened, and bewildered, he had made the best of his way home, -without attempting to seek for his ravishers; and after sleeping till -he had incurred a penance for forgetting his matins, he had come to -add his mite of confusion to that which already existed in the hall of -his patron. - -His tribute, however, small as it was, aided to perplex the ideas of -Mayenne far more than ever. Ere he made his appearance, it had been -the natural conclusion of the lieutenant-general and of his sister, -that the carrying off of Eugenie de Menancourt had been the work of -the Count d'Aubin; and the absence of the confessor had been -considered entirely as a thing apart. No sooner, however, were his -adventures related, than they instantly connected themselves in the -minds of all with the non-appearance of the priest, who had performed -the ceremony, and with the absence of Eugenie; and the shrewd -intellects of Mayenne and Madame de Montpensier, thus put upon the -right track, seemed likely soon to discover no small portion of the -truth. Eugenie's tire-woman was again strictly examined, and though -she acquitted herself to a wonder, suspicion was roused. "Think you, -Kate," demanded Mayenne, "that shrewd plotter, Beatrice of Ferrara, -has a hand in this? There was some talk of love--ay! and even of -marriage--between her and D'Aubin in the old Queen's time." - -"No, no!" replied the Duchess, "that has all gone by, and she now -despises him, as every woman of common sense must do. Besides, I saw -her at old Madame de Gondi's fete last night at one o'clock! You had -better question the other attendants of De Menancourt. You may gain -more tidings there." - -Mayenne accordingly determined to proceed instantly to Eugenie's -dwelling, in order to interrogate the rest of her servants; and he -commanded, in a stern and threatening tone, that the girl Caroline -should be detained till he returned. As the door was thrown open, -however, to give him exit to the court, a gentleman was introduced as -the captain of the lansquenets, sent to his aid by the Duke of Parma; -and all Mayenne's conclusions were once more deranged, by finding that -the intelligence brought him by the priest was genuine. - -How Beatrice of Ferrara had obtained that intelligence Mayenne never -discovered; but true the news certainly was, and most important were -the results to the cause of the League; for what between the auxiliary -force which thus joined him, and reinforcements brought in by -Bassompierre, Nemours, and Balagny, the army in Paris was soon so -strong as not only to justify but to bespeak bold and energetic -measures. Mayenne instantly prepared to take the field against the -royal army; and ere Henry IV. had been three days before Rouen, the -forces of the League were in full march to give him battle. Before he -left Paris, however, the Duke used every means not only to discover -the retreat of Eugenie, but to ascertain the cause and the manner of -her flight. In regard to the first, he was baffled at every point; and -so skilful had been the arrangements of Beatrice, that in respect to -the second he returned to the conclusion, after long and repeated -investigations, that to the Count d'Aubin was to be attributed an act -which, under such circumstances, he looked upon as a base breach of -faith, approaching to a personal insult. The tidings, therefore, that -Eugenie had disappeared from the capital, and was nowhere to be heard -of, were conveyed to D'Aubin by a reproachful letter from the Duke of -Mayenne; and mad with anger and disappointment, the Count, on his -part, gave his mind up to the belief that Mayenne was deceiving him, -threw himself on his horse, and travelled with frantic rapidity, till -he reached Paris. There finding that the army of the League was -already on its march, he followed with all speed, overtook Mayenne at -Gournay, and a somewhat vehement altercation was the consequence. - -Mayenne, however, could not afford to quarrel with a person of so much -importance to his cause; and acting with wisdom and moderation, an -explanation soon ensued, which cleared either party in the opinion of -the other. As D'Aubin, however, giving way to the natural impetuosity -of his disposition, had not waited to put the troops in motion which -he had collected in Maine, he returned thither after one day's rest, -while Mayenne marched forwards towards Dieppe. - -Accompanied by some of the first officers in France, and supported by -an overwhelming force, it seemed that the great leader of the League -was about to drive the handful of men which opposed him, and their -heroic monarch, into that sea which was already bearing to their aid -the expected succour from England. Strongly posted, however, and -powerful both in courage and in right, Henry IV. calmly awaited the -attack of his adversary; and, after several preliminary movements, the -day of Arques dawned heavy and dull, without a breath of air to stir -the trees or to dispel the autumn fog that obscured the scene of that -memorable fight. - -It were tedious here to tell all the minute particulars of the -glorious day, when, attacked at all points, and assailed in all -manners, not only by the arms of the enemy, but by the treason or -folly of part of his own troops, Henry IV. defended the hill of Arques -against forces more than six times the number of his own. - -Every one has heard how, when monarch and soldiers were alike wearied -out with sustaining through a long day the unceasing attacks of -infinitely superior numbers, when scarcely a horse could bear his -rider to the charge, and scarcely a hand could wield a sword, the -little band of Royalists beheld the powerful and yet untouched cavalry -of the League wheeling round upon their flank, while a light wind -springing up tended to clear the air, and showed to both armies the -insignificance of the one and the tremendous advantages of the other. -But in stricken fields, as in the daily strife of life, the event -which seems destined to seal our misfortunes is often but the -harbinger of unexpected success. The wind, it is true, rose higher, -and rolling the sea-fog, in heavy clouds, away down the valley of -Arques, left the few gallant defenders of that long-contested hill -exposed, in all their need, to the eyes of the mighty host that swept -round them in dreadful array; but, at the same time, the full sunshine -poured upon the advancing squadrons of the League as they came on to -the charge, and those upon the hill, for the first time during the -day, could distinguish clearly the separate masses of friends and -foes. The cannon of the castle of Arques opened at once, with -tremendous effect, upon the cavalry of Mayenne; the first ranks were -swept down as they advanced; the second rolled over their dying -comrades; the horses, mad with pain and terror, broke through the -ranks behind; and the charge of a few hundred men, at that critical -moment, put all the gallant array into irremediable flight. Mayenne -saw that the day was not for him; and withdrawing his masses in slow -and soldierly order, he retreated for several miles, and left the -field of Arques to the glory of Henry IV. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - -It was in a cottage by the sea-side--a mere hut, belonging in former -times to a fisherman--that Eugenie de Menancourt sat one autumn day -beside Beatrice of Ferrara watching the clouds of mist roll over the -waters, as the exhalations which night had left behind struggled with -a light wind and a still powerful sun for place upon the bosom of the -ocean. It was a mere hut, as we have said, but there was something -picturesque in its position, seated halfway up, halfway down a -sand-cliff to the east of Dieppe, with a projecting shoulder of the -rock sheltering it from the winds of the Atlantic, and a few trees and -shrubs--stunted in size and not very luxuriant in foliage, it is true, -but still green and fresh--keeping it company in the warm nook where -it was placed. It is not impossible that the very picturesque beauty -of its situation might be the reason why it had been selected by one -who had more poetry in her heart and soul than half the poets of the -land in which she lived. But, at the same time, there was another -motive which she would have assigned if she had been asked, and which -was, that the shore beneath formed a little bay in which the waves -seldom broke boisterously, but even in very stormy weather seemed to -play there in innocent sport, while their parent sea was all in -trouble and contention without, as we may have seen the children of a -warrior playing in peace by their cottage-door while their father was -urging the bloody strife upon the battle plain. In this sheltered bay -lay a small vessel, and on the beach were two or three boats, while up -above upon the cliff were several more cottages, from which to that we -have described a winding and somewhat difficult path led down the face -of the crag. Although the cottage had not contained more than ten days -its two fair tenants, who had now resumed their appropriate dress, yet -they had contrived to ornament it with a very different sort of taste -from that which was displayed by any of the neighbouring dwellers on -the shore: for Beatrice had her full share of that knowledge and love -of what is beautiful in art or nature which was then general in her -native land; and although she had daily talked of returning soon to -Paris to play her appointed part upon that busy scene, yet she had -lingered with a fond clinging to the peaceful moments she spent there, -musing away her time upon the ever-varying sea-shore, or decorating -the cottage she had hired for Eugenie with somewhat whimsical care. As -if her journey to Paris had been a duty, for the neglect of which she -owed an apology to her own heart, she often spoke of the difficulties -and dangers of reaching the capital when two hostile armies were -interposed: but difficulties or dangers had rarely stopped Beatrice of -Ferrara when she willed to go in any direction upon earth; and, -perhaps, the real reason of her delay might be, that Philip d'Aubin -was not in the metropolis, and that she knew it. - -As we have said, however, beside her Eugenie de Menancourt; upon an -autumn day, little more than a fortnight after we last left them. -Their eyes were bent upon the sea-fogs rolling along over the bosom of -the waters below, and contending in vain against a rising wind, which -every now and then swept them away, and showed to old Ocean the blue -eyes of Heaven looking upon his slumbering waves, when the curtain of -the mist was withdrawn by the soft hand of the morning air. - -"See, Eugenie! see!" cried Beatrice of Ferrara, as, with their arms -twined in each other, they gazed forth upon the changing scene; "see -how the soft and downy masses of fog roll dark above the sea, and how, -every now and then, a scanty gleam of light breaks in, and gilds the -moving vapour and the waves below! Do you know, dear Eugenie, that the -bosom of that sea seems to me like my own fate, wrapped up, as it has -been for many years, in clouds and gloom, with every now and then a -gleam of brightness breaking through, for a brief moment, and obscured -again almost as soon as given. Do you know, dear girl, I could stand -and gaze upon that sea, and, with all the superstition of the ancient -days, I could play the augur to my own heart, and read my after-lot in -the changes that come over the bosom of the water." - -"Well, let me read it!" cried Eugenie: "see, see, Beatrice, what a -long bright gleam is coming now!" - -"Ay! but the clouds roll up behind," replied her friend. - -"Yes, but beyond them again all is clear and bright," rejoined -Eugenie, as the sun and the wind gained the mastery, and the last -wreaths of mist were swept away, leaving nothing but a thin filmy veil -upon the expanse of sea. "See, Beatrice, how bright it looks!" - -"And, on the other hand, gaze on the dark cloud of the past," replied -Beatrice, with a smile which was not without its share of hopefulness; -"and as you, dear Eugenie, have read me my coming lot, and would fain -make me believe that it is to be so bright, I will tell you shortly, -very shortly, the history of the past; that you may judge how much -cause I have to augur well of the approaching hours from my experience -of those gone. I cannot dwell long upon such painful things, but I -will speak them briefly." - -Sitting down together, and still gazing out upon the golden sea, -Beatrice began her tale; and as she told it in as few words as it -could well be told, so shall it be repeated here. - -"I was born amongst the lovely Euganean hills," she said, "where -nature has compressed into one small space all that is beautiful and -all that is grand; mountain and valley, stream and lake, profuse -abundance, vegetation and cultivation, an atmosphere of magic light, -and an air of balm. My father was the sovereign prince of----, but -that matters not; though we were of the house of Ferrara, which has -given sovereigns to many another land, and has allied its princes to -the highest upon earth. My father's dominions were small, but they -were rich and beautiful; and he himself, born of a warlike race, kept -well with the sword those territories which, doubtless, the sword had -first acquired. He, when the sovereigns of Ferrara were closely allied -to the house of France, visited this court; and wedded, more for her -beauty than her wealth, and more for her virtues than her beauty, the -heiress of a noble house, whose lands lie not far from your own in -Maine. He carried her to Italy, where they ever after lived; his -rights to his lady's lands in France being still respected by the -sovereigns of this country, though the management of them was somewhat -neglected by those in whom he trusted. Still, however, those lands -were rich, and made no small addition to the revenues of an Italian -prince. His favourite residence was amongst the Euganean hills; and -there, where he had collected everything that was beautiful to the -eye, or pleasant to the ear, where the wise and the good, the poet and -the sculptor, the painter and the musician, ever found a home, I, his -first-born child, saw the light, now some four-and-twenty years ago. -About four years after, a brother was born, and, in his birth, my -mother died; but though my father never wedded again, but buried his -heart in the tomb of her he had loved, yet we were well, carefully, -fondly nurtured, both by our surviving parent himself, and by an -uncle, who, high in the church of Rome, looked on both my brother and -myself as if we had been children of his own. Abandoning the paths of -ambition for our sake, he left the ancient capital of empires for our -peaceful castle in the Euganean hills; and there, while my father was -often absent fulfilling the duties of a prince or a soldier, he -devoted himself to the cultivation of our young minds, and to the -strengthening of our young hearts against the sorrows and the -temptations of the world. He was, he is, one man out of a multitude. -But, Eugenie, we had another uncle, who, through life, had followed a -different path, and who was destined to act a different part. He was -bred a soldier, and lent his sword, and the troops he had contrived to -raise, to any one who held out to him the prospect of wealth or -aggrandisement. His expeditions, fortunate to others,--for he was -brave and skilful,--were not fortunate to himself; for the artful and -deceitful men he served generally contrived to withhold from him his -promised reward. From my father he always met kindness and protection; -and often did my parent support his cause, and avenge his quarrels, to -the detriment of his own best interests. How that uncle acted in -return, you shall hear. His heart was corrupted by dealing with the -base, and he became base himself, from believing that all others were -so. - -"My uncle Albert, the Cardinal, saw more deeply into his heart than my -father; and I remember well that it was when speaking of his brother, -my other uncle, that he took pains to impress upon my mind a truth -that struck me as a child, and which I have never forgotten. 'True -virtue,' he said, 'comes out the brighter for shining amidst vice. It -is only those who feel themselves weak that fear the contagion of -corruption. We may hate evil, and not willingly mingle with those who -practise it; but, if forced to do so, my child, we shall only hate it -the more if we be really virtuous at heart. Meaner stones derive a -lustre from that which lies beneath them: we set the diamond upon -black, and it shines by its own light.' My father died, Eugenie; and -the manner of his death was not altogether without suspicion; but as, -in his territories, it was a doubtful question, whether the coronet, -where there were male and female children, descended to the eldest of -either sex, or was the portion of the first-born son, my uncle -Ferdinand came hastily to settle the succession; and, to prevent all -dispute, he took the inheritance unto himself. For fear of greater -evils to us, and greater crimes to his brother, my other uncle, -Albert, sent my young brother and myself, with speed and secrecy, to -the court of France. I was then but thirteen years of age, and my -brother nine, and with us were some attached dependants, who had -either followed my mother to Italy, or had dwelt long in my father's -house. My brother instantly received my mother's inheritance in -France, burdened only with a small portion for myself; but, to better -my fallen fortunes, the late Queen-mother, Catherine of Medicis, -received me as one of her women, and, to do her but right, showed me, -through life, unvarying tenderness. I will not offend your ears, -Eugenie, by telling all that I saw in that corrupt court; but I had -three great safeguards, dear friend--a heart naturally not easily -moved; firm principles of truth and virtue, implanted in my earliest -years; and one faithful woman, who had nursed my mother and myself, -and who to vestal purity of heart added a daring courage, which -strengthened her to do what she judged right in defiance of all -dangers, and would speak truth to the highest of God's creatures upon -earth. Yet I must not take credit to myself for any great powers of -resistance. I do not say that there were not many who sought me, some -in marriage, and some with lighter vows; but so deep and thorough was -the contempt I felt for the vain and idle butterflies of that vicious -court, that my scorn extended to the whole sex, and I fancied I should -never give one thought to any man in the whole world. You know, -Eugenie, and I know too well, how much I was mistaken. At length came -one who sought my love as others had not sought it. Four years, or -more, have since passed, my friend, and those years have changed him -not for the better. There was a freshness of young feeling about him -then, that is now gone, and it was that which first won a way to my -heart. I now found that, if my heart had been difficult to move, when -once it was moved, like a rock broken by some earthquake from the -Alps, it was likely to bear all away before it. Oh, how I loved him, -Eugenie! and when, after having, I own, made him sigh for many a -month, to prove his love for me, I at length let him know that I did -not feel towards him as towards the rest of men, and that he might, at -some distant time, hope for the hand of Beatrice of Ferrara, the -relief, alas! was greater to my heart than his. Then came the change -over him, Eugenie. I believe he had injured his fortune with those -hateful dice; the hope of obtaining your hand was held out to him; -ambition and interest called him loudly to pursue that prospect; for I -was poor, comparatively, and had no hope of better fortunes; and I -heard that he was offering his vows to Eugenie de Menancourt. I -resolved to see with my own eyes if this was true; and as the queen -was then about to undertake one of her gay and politic progresses -through Maine, I joined her, with my young brother; for my faithful -nurse was by that time dead, and I did not choose to dwell in that -court alone. You remember well, Eugenie, those days, and how my truant -lover seemed chained, like a slave, to my bridle-rein. My pride was -satisfied, if my heart was not, and I returned to Paris. He remained -some months behind, and when he came, I found that he was changed -indeed. He fled my society, and yet he seemed struggling with himself; -full of passion and tenderness when we met, his words were wild and -strange: he plunged deep into the vices of the court; and, though I -saw and knew he loved me still, yet I resolved, by appearing to -despise his conduct, and to forget himself, to recall him, if possible -to better deeds. I went down to the dwelling of my brother in Maine, -and there, roaming wildly over the country, I soon heard enough to -show me that, notwithstanding all his large possessions, the Count -d'Aubin was struggling vainly with the consequences of his own -follies. There was then a contagious disease raging here in France, -and my brother caught it, and died. His possessions fell to me. I had -it now in my power to raise up again him I loved, and to sweep his -embarrassments away; and it became my favourite dream to reclaim him -from all evil, to lead him back to virtue and to right, to restore him -to honour and to station, and to make him owe to me at once peace of -mind and ease of fortune. For the last two years I have laboured for -this object, Eugenie, by many a different means. I have been thwarted -by accident, and by his own perversity; but I cling the more -tenaciously to those hopes, the weaker becomes the foundation on which -they rest. Sad and sorry I am to say he has weakened it more and more -every hour; but yet, Eugenie, I hope. I have had him watched, Eugenie, -not that I might know his weaknesses, for to those I have ever shut my -ears, but in order to seize the moment, if ever the moment should -come, for snatching him from his follies or from his evil fate. To -himself I have pretended to hate and despise him, the better to -conceal my views, and also to make him feel my kindness the more when -my time comes. Sometimes I think, however, that he suspects me; and a -dwarf page, who has been attached to me from my childhood, and whom, -in other days, I gave to him to be his cupbearer, he sent away, a year -or more ago, to his cousin St. Real. I had directed that page to give -me notice of all that passed in Philip d'Aubin's household; but the -tidings he gave were scanty, even while he was there, and as soon as -he was gone, I formed a bold resolution, which I executed boldly. -Shortly after you had come to Paris with your father, and I had -contrived to gain your love and confidence, you may remember that -Philip d'Aubin went down to Maine; and I did hope, that, in -companionship with so noble a heart as his cousin St. Real, and under -the eye of the good old Marquis, who was then living, his better -feelings might expand, like flowers in the sunshine; and I resolved, -at any risk, to go down thither and watch him myself; for I knew that -men, to whom he owed large sums, were pressing him hard, and that, had -it not been for these sad wars, his estates would long ago have -suffered from their claims. I thought that the moment might come when -the full and tender generosity, which is so often to be found in -woman's heart, might have room to act, that I might save him from the -consequences of his own faults, and thus, perhaps, save him from those -faults themselves. I contrived, by means of the dwarf, to force -several of my own servants into the household of St. Real; and I was -following down rapidly myself, to try whether I could not, for a time, -obtain admission there also, when messengers from my uncle Albert, -telling me of the death of Ferdinand, the usurper of my little state, -conveying to me considerable treasure, and beseeching me to return, -and take possession of territories which were now universally -acknowledged as my own, reached me at Orleans, and brought me back to -Paris. - -"As soon as I had dispatched them back with other letters, begging my -uncle to rule in my stead till my return, I pursued my plan; but -D'Aubin had, in the meantime, returned to Paris, and had thence again -been summoned to the sick bed of his uncle of St. Real. Of this I knew -nothing, however; and, after manifold risks and difficulties, owing, -perhaps, to the negligence, perhaps to the malice, of the dwarf -Bartholo, I accomplished my object, and found myself established as a -page in the house of the lords of St. Real. I had determined, in any -great difficulty, to apply at once to the old Marquis, and tell him -all my history and all my views; but I found him dying, and soon saw -that I must withdraw from the household into which I had thus -intruded, or risk detection, and, perhaps, ill repute. To guard my -name at home, however, I caused my women to give out that I was ill of -the fever; and they played their part with skill. Day by day, however, -my disguise produced more and more pain to myself; for I had but -hourly proofs of how completely D'Aubin had given himself up to the -vices and follies of his comrades of the court; and I determined, soon -after St. Real and his cousin reached Paris, to cast that disguise off -at once. The wealth which I had now at command in that venal city, and -in these venal times, procured me every sort of facility in coming and -going between Paris and St. Cloud; and I believe that, for one half -the sum which I possessed unknown within the town, I could have -procured regular passes for the two kings and all their troops to -march quietly in and take possession of the capital. Thus, as soon as -I had notice of the last sad and daring means which Philip d'Aubin was -about to employ against you, my Eugenie,--the most base and profligate -step of any he had yet taken,--I cast myself at the king's feet, who -owed me some gratitude for a former service; told him your situation, -my own plan for saving you, and besought him to give me his -assistance. He did so in a generous manner, and even furnished me with -intelligence to give Mayenne from the Prince of Parma, which is -certain to mislead and puzzle the Duke regarding all our plans. -Learning from an attendant, whom I still have in D'Aubin's service, -that the Count had bound himself to set out on the very evening of his -marriage for Maine, I conceived the Duke of Mayenne's plans at once; -all his views; all his policy. I set every engine to work to gain -information. I had his chaplain seized and carried away; I induced a -wild drunken Huguenot soldier, not without talents, but without -religion or principle, to enact the priest, and brought him to the -Hotel de Guise at the moment that a priest was wanted. I took care -that your refusal should be witnessed by so many, that, even had the -person who performed the ceremony been what he seemed, the whole would -have been illegal; but I also ensured that proof of the man's -condition, and of all the other facts, should be lodged in the hands -of the king, so as to render you free as air. And now, dear Eugenie, -here we are, safe and at liberty, with a bark to bear you to England, -if the king should lose the approaching battle; and, doubtless, you -wonder that, with all I have seen, and with all I know, I can for one -moment think again of Philip d'Aubin. Such is the voice of reason, -Eugenie, and the voice of sense; but there is another voice in my -heart, which drowns them all, and fills my mind with excuses for his -conduct--vain and light, indeed, as the changing clouds upon the sky, -I know; but still those clouds cast shadows, which alter the aspect of -everything whereon they fall; and so, to my weak eyes, the excuses -found by love cast an obscuring shade upon his actions, which will not -suffer me to see them as I should if the full sun of unbiassed -judgment shone upon them. I will make one more effort, dear Eugenie--I -will essay one more trial; I will find the means of serving him deeply -and truly; and if he be then ungrateful, I can cast him off--and die." - -"Oh, not so, Beatrice!" replied Eugenie; "make every effort; try every -means; but, even if all should fail, talk not of dying, but seek -happiness in some other shape." - -"In vain, Eugenie! in vain!" replied Beatrice, "all the feelings of my -heart are engaged in this one effort. If it fail, there will be -nothing else left for me on earth. The body may live, Eugenie--it -perhaps may linger on some few years; but the heart and the soul are -dead. Still, let us hope better things, dear friend; you have read me -a happy fate in those passing clouds and the sunshine that followed, -and I will trust----" - -As she spoke, an attendant hurried in. "They are flying, madam!" he -said; "they are flying!" - -"Who?" demanded Beatrice, eagerly, "who are flying?" - -"Mayenne's horse, madam," replied the man: "do you not hear the -cannon? They have been fighting at Arques for these four hours." - -"Send out! send out to see!" cried Beatrice. "On this battle may -depend our future fate, dear Eugenie." - -In less than an hour the news of Mayenne's defeat was borne to -Beatrice and Eugenie; and the servant who brought it added, that he -had seen the king and Monsieur de St. Real both quite safe, and -directing the operations which followed up the victory. - -"Thank God for this, also!" replied Beatrice. "This battle will secure -the western provinces to the king; and now, dear Eugenie, ere I wend -my way back to Paris, we will journey together to Maine, where, -between my lands and yours, there lies a spot secluded and calm, and -surrounded by people attached both to you and to me. Mayenne must fall -back on Picardy; the king will march on Paris; and Maine will offer a -safer asylum than even this which we possess at present." - -The political anticipations of Beatrice of Ferrara were not far wrong: -scarcely had the day of Arques been won, when the English succour -disembarked at Dieppe. Henry effected his junction with the Duke of -Longueville and the Count of Soisson, the former of whom had been -detached to levy troops; and then resuming the offensive, he marched -in search of Mayenne, and attempted to provoke him to another battle. -Retreating upon Picardy, however, Mayenne avoided the large force -which was now opposed to him; and, by a number of skilful operations, -both military and political, repaired the disadvantages incurred by -the lost field of Arques. Anxious to withdraw him from a province into -which, from the disaffection of many of the larger towns, the royal -forces could not with safety follow him, Henry marched direct upon -Paris, and, taking several unimportant places by the way, attacked and -carried the suburbs of the capital itself, to the horror and dismay of -the Leaguers. The scheme was perfectly successful. Mayenne, in terror -lest the metropolis should be lost, spurred with all speed to Paris, -leaving his army to follow as they might. The forces of the Royalists -was not sufficiently numerous to invest the city entirely; and the -troops of Mayenne following from Picardy soon placed such a number of -men within the walls as to set farther attack at defiance. - -Withdrawing from a useless enterprise, Henry retreated upon Mont -l'Hery, and then turned upon Etampes; taking a number of towns under -the very eyes of the League, the leaders of which seemed little -disposed to risk the chances of another battle. Thus passed the -winter, and a considerable part of the spring. The town of Le Mans, it -is true, made some resistance to the royal arms, but at length -yielded; and thence directing expeditions towards different parts of -the country, the gallant monarch recovered a great part of the rich -provinces towards the centre of France. Almost all Maine and a -considerable part of Normandy were now subject to the king; and, -amongst the rest, the lands of Eugenie de Menancourt were, for a time, -occupied by the royal troops. The tenantry, however, and the vassals, -had been generally called into the field, by the Count d'Aubin, who -had by this time joined Mayenne in Paris; and the changing events of -the war soon obliged the monarch to withdraw his troops from that part -of Maine, and advance to new victories and more important conquests. - -Shortly before Easter, Henry IV. had laid siege to Dreux, in Normandy; -and Mayenne having taken the castle of Vincennes, Poissi, and several -other places, endeavoured to reduce Meulan. The demonstrations of the -royal army, however, showed a purpose of compelling him to raise the -siege; and having been joined by fresh levies from various parts of -France, and considerable reinforcements from the low countries, he -determined to risk another battle; and for the purpose of choosing his -own ground put his army in motion. Nonancourt had fallen before the -arms of Henry IV. and the siege of Dreux was rapidly advancing; when -news reached the royal camp of various unexpected movements on the -part of the army of the League. First came tidings that five thousand -infantry had passed the bridge of Mantes; then came reports of large -forces of cavalry having been seen in march on both sides of the -Seine; and, lastly, intelligence was brought to the king that the -foragers of the Duke of Mayenne had appeared in the neighbourhood of -Dammartin. - -Calling his principal officers to council, Henry informed them of the -tidings he had received, and then at once made his own comment; and -announced his determination thus:--"From these facts, my friends, it -is evident that our good cousin of Mayenne is seeking us; and -therefore I propose instantly to raise the siege of Dreux." - -The members of the council looked in each other's faces, with glances -of surprise at such an unexpected proposal from one who was not, in -general, easily turned from his enterprises. Henry for a moment -suffered their astonishment to continue, and then added, with a smile; -"You seem surprised, my friends; but I have no scruple in regard to -abandoning a siege when it is for the purpose of fighting a battle. -What say you, my gallant St. Real; will you strike for Henry IV. as -bravely here as you did at Arques?" - -"With all my heart, sire!" replied St. Real; and this is one of the -few instances on record of a council in which there existed no -difference of opinion. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -Willingly we turn once more from the dull, dry page of history--that -uninteresting record which no one reads in these days, and probably -never will again, unless by some unforeseen accident the world should -grow wiser and better--to the more entertaining and instructive -accidents and adventures of the individual characters, which, with -somewhat less skill than that of a Philidore, we have been moving -about upon the little chess-board before us. It is always the most -skilful game, we are told, to begin with the pawns, of which we are -well aware, though we somewhat deviated from that rule in the -commencement; but now that we have got our pieces scattered about in -different directions, and have just been obliged to make the king -abandon his attack upon the castle, we must even have recourse to -pieces which we have found very useful in many a previous game, and -play this chapter out with the knights. - -The evening was cold and still; for the ordinary winds of March had -not yet begun to blow, although that month was well advanced; and the -dull heavy clouds that hung over the world might descend in rain, or -might still assert the rule of winter, and come down in a fall of -snow. The sky, therefore, looked chill and comfortless to the eyes of -a considerable body of the army of the League, as it moved along the -heavy and channelled roads in the neighbourhood of Evreux; and to say -sooth, the aspect of the earth itself was but little more cheering -than that of the heaven which canopied it. Days of trouble had -impoverished the land, and the cold season which had just passed had -left the earth brown and rugged; while the woods, that swept over -every favourable slope, presented nothing but a tangled mass of dull -grey branches, diversified alone by a few patches of crisp yellow -leaves, that adhered, with all the tenacity of old attachment, to the -stems which were soon to cast them off for the greener and gayer -children of the spring. Thinly peopled, too, was then the land; and -though here and there a village church raised its tower against the -evening sky, or a cottage appeared upon the upland, in many instances -the bell had long ceased to sound from amidst the scenes that war had -visited; very often the light of the cottage was found extinguished, -and the fire of the once warm hearth gone out for ever. The hamlets -were few, and generally gathered round some castle, which afforded the -inhabitants refuge or protection in time of need; and solitary but -inhabited cottages, if met with at all, were but mere huts, in which -dwelt the lowest and most miserable of the population, upon whom war -itself could inflict nothing worse than existence. - -In short, the whole scene was cold and desolate; and its effect upon -the mind of one of the leaders, who conducted the detachment we have -mentioned, was such as it was naturally calculated to produce. He had -ridden on, at about the distance of half a mile from the head of the -mingled masses of cavalry and infantry which were under his command; -and, accompanied by one companion, and several attendants, advanced -silently upon the rude road, which, winding along the side of an easy -hill, displayed a wide extent of dull grey slopes, slightly tinted -here and there with a faint and melancholy hue of green, till a dark -and gloomy wood, at several leagues' distance, cut sharp upon the -leaden sky, and closed the cheerless prospect. Although the eye of -Philip d'Aubin, for such was the horseman we have spoken of, roved far -and wide over the uninviting face of the country, it was clear that he -looked not upon it as a general reconnoitring the land through which -he passed, with the keen glance of strategic inquiry; but rather that -he seemed to regard it with the look of one whose heart--not wholly -dead to nobler feelings than those which armed him in civil strife -upon a bad and unjustifiable cause--grieved for the state of ruin in -which his native land was plunged, although his own evil passions -aided to produce the desolation that he lamented. - -The other who rode beside him, Albert of Wolfstrom, drew his cloak -round him, and, as he gazed upon the bleak and desolate landscape, -thought of nothing but himself. Mercenary by nature and by habit, he -scarcely knew what it is to have a country; and--like many others who -believe themselves to be citizens of the world--in truth and in -reality, his own individual selfishness was his world, his country, -and his home. D'Aubin knew the nature of the man too well to suffer -the slightest hint of what was passing in his own bosom to escape his -lips; well aware that his companion could not understand his feelings, -and that, setting aside even the mercenary leader's own particular -philosophy, there was cant of many kinds to be brought forward against -the sensations which forced themselves upon him; for where was yet the -unholy cause which did not inscribe upon its banners the names of -virtue, religion, patriotism, and honour? - -"It is a chilly night," he said, as he remarked the action of his -companion; "it is a chilly night, Wolfstrom!" - -"Ay, and a dreary prospect," answered his companion. "Which, think -you, my noble Count, shall we have to warm our blood tonight with; -raising the wine cup, shaking the dice, or hard blows upon bright -steel?" - -"With wine, if anything," replied D'Aubin; "Mayenne is not one fond of -night encounters and sudden surprises; and if he have not fought the -king's force to-day, which is not likely, he will let another sun rise -ere he strike a blow. As for dice, you know, I have abjured them." - -"Ay do I, to my sorrow," answered Wolfstrom; "for we have not had one -merry night since we began our march; but, by my life, it is a dreary -prospect. I trust that all the centre of this good land is not so bare -and wasted. I have been so long in Picardy, where things wear a better -aspect, that I expected not this sad scene in Normandy." - -D'Aubin turned upon him an inquiring eye, not understanding, for a -moment, what curious combination could have excited in the bosom of -the adventurer anything like feelings of regret for the devastation of -any land on earth. "You are compassionate, Wolfstrom!" he said: -"France indeed has suffered terrible evils; and Normandy, lately, more -than all; for here has been the hottest fire of war during the last -four months." - -"And pray has not Maine suffered as much?" demanded Wolfstrom in a -quiet tone. - -D'Aubin laughed aloud: "By the Lord!" he exclaimed, "I thought thy -heart had grown mighty tender over the woes of France, most worthy and -considerate Wolfstrom; forgetting, that in the _hypothčque_[4] which I -gave thee over my lands in Maine, on account of that accursed throw of -the dice, thou hast acquired a certain tender and generous interest in -my unhappy country, through the only channel by which thy heart can be -reached,--but rest satisfied! The war would be sweeping and desolating -indeed, which would leave the lands of Aubin unable to pay the pitiful -interest of thy pitiful debt; and besides, I shall soon be able to -discharge the whole, and load thee with that sort of moveable ore, -which is better suited to thy purposes and thy nature than any claim -upon the soil." - -"You mean when your marriage can be completed with Mademoiselle de -Menancourt," replied Wolfstrom, not unwilling to retort some of the -bitterness of Aubin's speech upon himself. "By my faith, Sir Count, if -it wait till then, it will wait long enough apparently; for your fond -and affectionate bride seems to conceal herself from your longing arms -with wonderful skill and perseverance." - -D'Aubin bit his lip, and paused for several minutes ere he replied; -but wrath he felt was vain in regard to circumstances far too well -known to admit the possibility of concealment, however much it might -sting him to find them a subject of common conversation to every -mercenary follower of the camp. It cost him an effort, indeed, to -smother all the angry feelings at his heart; but that effort over, he -replied in a tone of calmness that disappointed Wolfstrom's malice: -"She does, indeed, conceal herself skilfully," he said; "and in truth, -I little thought that so slight an offence as I gave her would so -deeply wound woman's jealous love, or I should have taken greater care -to please; but as soon as this battle is over, and these provinces -cleared, I will bend my whole thoughts and efforts to the search; and -when once I have found her, a few words of apology, and a few vows of -eternal love and fidelity, will set the whole to rights again." - -"I heard that you tried all that before," replied Wolfstrom, dryly; -"and the good, free-spoken Parisians seems to think, that it was love -for one cousin made her run away from the other so eagerly; at least, -so Madame de Montpensier, and the Duchess of Guise, and young La -Tremblaye, and several others, fancied." - -"It is false as hell!" cried D'Aubin; "and those who say it, and those -who repeat it, lie." - -"I trust it is false," answered Wolfstrom, calmly; "and will not take -up the hard word you have used just now, Monsieur d'Aubin, till the -battle is over, and our personal affairs are in a little better order. -After that, however, I shall have to inquire how far the word lie was -applied to my share in the story. At present, let me say, that my -repeating unpalatable rumours to you was but an act of kindness, -intended to direct your mind towards a particular point. Even -supposing that nothing like love exists between your cousin and this -fair fugitive, every one knows that he used to regard her as a brother -might a sister; and it is a common supposition that she has fled to -his protection, and is concealed by his assistance." - -"Nonsense, nonsense, Wolfstrom!" replied D'Aubin, musing a little -while he spoke. "It is all nonsense, depend upon it; and as to the -word lie, I applied it alone, of course, to those who spread such -reports maliciously--not to you. Eugenie, wherever she has fled, has -too deep a sense of female modesty to put herself under the protection -of any idle boy, like my cousin of St. Real." - -"Pardie! call him not an idle boy!" cried Wolfstrom. "Call him rather -a stout soldier, and skilful commander; for such has he proved himself -in all these last affairs; and the very best in either camp may now -and then take a lesson from him." - -"Pshaw!" said D'Aubin. "You are credulous, Wolfstrom! The followers of -the Bearnois take care to vaunt their great officers and skilful -soldiers, in order to make up, by the fears of their adversaries, for -their own want of strength. Do not let us be such gulls as to believe -them; and only let us so far reckon on their power, as to take every -means of employing our own to the best advantage. Do not you spare -your men, Wolfstrom; for one of these great battles lost might place -the whole of France in the power of the Bearnois." - -"I shall neither spare my men nor my person, as I am bound in honour," -answered Wolfstrom; "but it matters little to me whether France falls -under the power of the Bearnois or not. The term for which I took arms -will soon be expired; and I can always find employment for my sword, -thanks to the Protestants and Catholics here and in other lands." - -"True," replied D'Aubin; "but you may find my lands confiscated to the -crown for treason and rebellion some fine day, if the Bearnois wins -the day of us ultimately; and then what becomes of your _hypothčque?_" - -"That consideration shall make me give a good stroke or two more, my -dear friend," replied the German coolly; "but I seldom find means -wanting to repay myself; and, methinks, if the Bearnois does beat us -completely, and declares himself your heir, I shall still contrive to -skin his inheritance before I go." - -D'Aubin made no reply, and for some time the two commanders rode on in -silence; the German leader probably calculating upon the best means of -skinning, as he termed it, other men's inheritance, and the Count -d'Aubin, on his part, revolving bitterly all that had just passed in a -conversation which presented so very few agreeable points for the mind -to rest on. What his companion had said in regard to Eugenie and St. -Real, he had repelled only the more angrily because it was confirmed -by suspicions existing previously in his own mind; for such is the -nature of the human heart, to combat on the lips of others the -self-same feelings that we experience with terror within us. To that -point of their conversation, therefore, did he most earnestly turn his -thoughts; and bitter and angry were the sensations which he now felt -towards a being whom he had once loved, but who had since committed -the unforgiveable offence of holding firm to virtue and to honour -where D'Aubin's own grasp had given way. Gradually as he nourished and -pampered the doubts and suspicions within him, the emotions of his -mind communicated themselves to his features and to his frame; and -suddenly remembering himself, as he was spurring on his horse under -the impulse of his irritated feelings, he affected to see some object -in the distant plain, and asked his companion whether he did not -perceive a light in the eastern part of the landscape. - -Wolfstrom answered in the negative; and the conversation between them -was renewed, but took a different turn, touching chiefly upon the -chances of a battle on the following day, the respective forces of the -Royalists and Leaguers, and the probability of success on either part. - -"We should soon know how the strife will end, if we were in my -country," said Wolfstrom; "at least, we might easily find persons to -tell us." - -"How so?" demanded D'Aubin. "I hear that our holy Father the Pope, -although friendly to our cause, predicts that the day will go against -us." - -"Ay, but in Germany," replied Wolfstrom, "we should find those who -pretend to know as much as his holiness, and do know a great deal -more. Have you never heard, that in the Odenwald, when a war is about -to begin, the Wild Huntsman goes out with all his dogs, and that, on -the tops of our mountains, on many a stormy night, the spirits of the -rivers and the floods hold their meetings, and reveal dark secrets of -coming events to those who have the courage to go and consult them?" - -"No, indeed, Wolfstrom," answered D'Aubin, "I never did hear all that; -and I can but say, that I think those spirits must be very foolish -spirits to haunt Germany at all, when there is many a warmer and a -fairer land would be very willing to receive them; and still more -foolish to go up to the tops of mountains on a stormy night! No, no, -Wolfstrom; I am no believer in spirits, or ghosts, or phantasms, or -necromancers, or any sort of portents, except the wonders to be -effected by strong wits and strong arms." - -"Say many a warmer land, if you will," replied Wolfstrom, angry at -D'Aubin's sneer at his native country. "Say many a warmer land, if you -will, but not many a fairer; for the whole earth does not contain a -fairer than Germany. Why, everything that stream, and mountain, and -forest, rich plain, and sweeping upland, can do to make a land lovely -is to be found in Germany: but as you have not seen it, you cannot -judge; and as to your disbelief in portents, you, as every other -incredulous doubter, will some day be convinced." - -"Never!" answered D'Aubin, with a laugh: "but now, good Sir Albert, as -night is falling, and we shall not reach St. Andre before midnight, I -think we had better fall back to our men, and throw out some scouts. -Not that I fear surprise; for as Mayenne is between us and the enemy, -it would be strange to meet with a foe before we rejoin our friends. -'Tis as well, however, always to hold one's self prepared." - -The views of the leader of the reitters perfectly coincided in this -cautious doctrine; and D'Aubin and his companion, slackening their -pace, suffered the head of their corps to come up with them. -Arrangements were then made for a night march; and the sun went down -ere they had proceeded far, bursting forth for a moment as he touched -the edge of the horizon, and dyeing the heavy clouds that rolled -around him with a dull and misty red. The clock struck nine as the -Count and his forces entered the little village of Gross[oe]uvre; and -the leaders, riding forward to the old chateau, were welcomed with -kindness and hospitality by the ancestors of my poor friend, the -gallant and chivalrous De Vitermont, one of the noble and generous -hearts of France, who, after having shed his blood, and lost health -and comfort in defence of his country, could still hold out the hand -of friendship and affection to those who had smitten him so severely, -but who were enemies no more. - -So good was the wine, so hospitable the hearth at which he sat, that -Albert of Wolfstrom, with the true love of a soldier of fortune for -comfortable quarters, would fain have delayed the farther march till -morning, alleging that the horses and men were both fatigued, and -could just as well proceed an hour or two before daylight as at that -late hour of the night. D'Aubin, however, would not hear of delay; -well knowing of how much importance it is to bring troops fresh into -the field, rather than wearied with a long march. Determined, -therefore, that whatever rest the soldiers obtained should be as near -the expected field of battle as possible, at eleven o'clock he caused -the trumpets to sound; and shortly after the troops were once more on -their march towards the small town of Ivry, at which place the Duke of -Mayenne was now ascertained to be. A circuitous route, however, was -necessarily followed through the great plain which lies between Pacy -and St. Andre, as the latter place was understood to be occupied by -the forces of the king. Sure guides had been obtained, indeed, at -Gross[oe]uvre, and much were they needed, for the night was as dark as -the mouth of Acheron; and not a ray found its way through the black -covering of clouds to mark the road from the fields amongst which it -wound. The air was calm and still; and no sound was to be heard except -the occasional howling of the wolves, which were then frequent, and -are not now uncommon, in the many woods which diversify that part of -the country. Instead of bringing additional chilliness to the -atmosphere, however, the night had become warm, and was growing more -and more sultry as it advanced; and every now and then the wind, as if -struggling to rise against some oppressive burden in the sky, came -with a momentary gust of hot breath, which instantly fell again, and -all was still. - -"It will turn to rain!" said D'Aubin, speaking to Wolfstrom, who rode -beside him; "it has grown too hot for snow." - -"No, no, noble Sir!" replied the old man who walked beside D'Aubin's -bridle-rein, to show him the way; "that which you feel is the hot -breath of the battle coming up! They will fight to-morrow, that is -certain! When I served with the Great Duke, we never felt a night like -this, without being sure that there would be bloody work the next -morning, whether we expected it before or not." - -"Indeed!" said D'Aubin; but as he spoke, a slight momentary flash -played along the verge of the far sky, showing, for the brief instant -that it lasted, the plain and the woods around, and then leaving all -blank and dark once more. - -"Ay, that's always the way," said the old man; "the spirits of the two -armies are trying to-night which will have the victory to-morrow. We -shall hear more of it soon." - -Several minutes, however, elapsed without his prophecy being verified; -and D'Aubin began to fancy, that what he had at first supposed to be a -flash of lightning had proceeded from the discharge of some distant -gun, the report of which had escaped his ear; when again a broad blaze -illumined the sky, and a clap of thunder, resembling the discharge of -a whole park of artillery, echoed and re-echoed through the air. Then -came another pause; but the moment after appeared a spectacle -which--if it had not been seen by the unimaginative Sully, and the -keen and inquiring eyes of D'Avila the historian, as well as those of -every other person then awake in either host,--might well have passed -for a superstitious fable. The sky became suddenly in a blaze with -flickering lightning, which scarcely left it for a moment in darkness; -while in the midst appeared forms of fire, like those of mounted -horsemen and charging squadrons. Shifting, advancing, wheeling, now -meeting in impetuous shock, now mingled in the confusion of the -_mźlée_, now broken and scattered, now fleeing, now rallied, the -aerial combatants acted in the clouds the fierce drama of a -hard-contested field of battle before the eyes of the astonished -soldiers. For some minutes an uncommanded halt took place; the -soldiers gazed upon the blazing sky with eyes of wonder and terror; -several of the horses started from the ranks, and were only brought -back by skill and strength; and then stood with foaming hides and -distended nostrils, straining their eyes, with their riders, on the -bright but fearful phenomenon above them. Still that strange warfare -in the sky seemed to go on, while the thunder rolled around in one -incessant peal; and gradually shaking off the first effects of terror, -the soldiery began to take an interest in the scene, worked up their -imaginations to the belief that the combat was real. So complete at -length was the illusion, that when the phantom army appeared defeated -by their adversaries, and the forms that composed it were driven over -the sky in confusion, the trumpeter of the horsemen of Aubin -instinctively put his clarion to his lips, and blew a rally. The Count -took advantage of the incident to give the word to march; and turning -to Albert of Wolfstrom, as he spurred on his horse, exclaimed, "In -truth, in truth, this is very strange!" - -The troops followed their commander in some disarray; but ere they -reached the edge of the upland the pageant had passed away, and all -was darkness, except when an occasional flash of lightning broke for -an instant across the sky.[5] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - -The morning of the fourteenth of March broke through a sky filled with -scattered clouds, the light fragments of the past-by storm, which, -borne away by a quick soft wind, hurried shadowy over the laughing -sunshine of the early day, like the momentary woes and cares of -infancy. After a night of watchfulness and inquietude, the soldiers of -Henry IV. rose not the less full of hope and courage, for all they had -endured. Marching out from the villages in which they had been -quartered, they advanced to a position which the king had chosen some -time before, and which his army had occupied the greater part of the -preceding day, in expectation of being attacked by the forces of -Mayenne, whose army had been in sight during the whole afternoon. - -Some apprehension had been entertained in the Royalist camp during the -night, lest the enemy should have retired across the Eure, to avoid a -combat which bade fair to decide the fate of France; but the first -dawn of the morning effaced this fear, by showing the outposts of -Mayenne, still occupying the edge of the gentle slope which terminated -the plain towards Monēeaux and La Neuvillette. The main body of the -Leaguers had, indeed, withdrawn to a little from the position they had -occupied on the preceding day; but this movement had only taken place -in order that they might pass the inclement night which followed in -the shelter afforded by the villages towards Ivry; and ere the monarch -had been long on his ground, the heavy masses of cavalry and infantry -which supported Mayenne were seen congregating on the upland, -considerably increased in number by reinforcements which had arrived -during the night, and early in the morning. - -Some small bodies also had joined the forces of the king; and although -the rolls of the League presented at least double the number of names -which the list of Henry's followers could display, yet upon the part -of the Royalists there was that undoubting, confident resolution, -which so often commands success, joined to that cautious energy which -insures it against almost every chance. - -Towards ten o'clock, the position of the royal army was taken up, the -squadrons of cavalry formed along the whole line, and the infantry -disposed in masses between the small bodies of the horse. On the right -appeared the squadron of the Marechal d'Aumont, with several infantry -regiments; towards the centre were the cannon, few in number, but well -placed, and directed by officers of skill and activity; and on the -left was the squadron of the king himself, with the reserve of the -Marechal de Biron. The appearance of the royal host offered nothing -very brilliant; for every leader amongst the Royalists had been so -long expelled from the gay capital, and so many of them had suffered -in fortune by their attachment to the monarch, that steel--cold grey -steel--was the only ornament that the ranks of Henry IV. presented. -The king himself appeared amongst his troops without that surcoat of -arms which was borne even by the poorest gentleman on the other side; -but in order that he might be known and distinguished in the _mźlée_, -a large white plume of feathers rose above his casque, and a similar -mark was placed in the head of his battle charger. It was thus he -appeared in the front of the squadron he particularly commanded, when -the young Marquis of St. Real and several other gentlemen rode up, and -sought permission to fight near the person of his Majesty. - -"No, no, St. Real," replied the king; "you will be required at the -head of your own troops." - -"I can perfectly trust my lieutenant, sire," replied St. Real. "If you -will grant me my request, I will answer for his conducting the troops -as well as I could myself." - -"No, St. Real, no!" answered the monarch, again smiling gaily upon -him; "I must not have all my best officers in one place. I am vain -enough to think that my own hand is here a host, and I must have my -gallant friends posted where they may do as much. Besides, I have -other work for you. Here is my noble Rosny, who has brought me up -James's arquebusiers from Passy: I wish you to join them to your -force, and hold yourself as the commander of my own especial reserve. -If you see my squadron broken, come to my aid,--but not otherwise, -mind. You won glory enough at Arques, St. Real, and you must let us -have our share here. But stay; were you not in the room last night -when Schomberg came to ask for his men's pay, and I spoke somewhat -harshly to him in reply?" - -"I was, sire," replied St. Real, bowing his head gravely; for he had -thought at the time, that the king had treated the veteran unkindly. - -"Well, then, come with me!" said Henry: "you witnessed the fault, you -must witness the reparation." Thus saying, he rode along the line, -followed by St. Real and about twenty other horsemen, sometimes -pausing to gaze upon the swarming host of Mayenne, which, crowning the -opposite slope, was making every disposition for immediate battle; -sometimes turning towards his own army to address the heads of the -squadrons he passed, or the gentlemen who accompanied him. "Ha! there -is the white standard and black _fleurs de lis_ of the Guises!" he -exclaimed, speaking to St. Real. "Our good cousin of Mayenne must be -in person on the field already. 'Tis a wonder he is so soon up! How -mild the day is, De Givry! Well! you and your brave fellows, I see, -run no risk of overheating yourselves before the battle; for, by my -faith, we have none of us much over-clothing besides cold steel. Ah! -Monsieur de Brigneux, you have a good view of the enemy, and will not -lose sight of them till they have tasted the quality of your steel, -I'll warrant. They must be two to one, Vignoles! I am sure I hope they -are; for I would not have to defeat a less force for one half of -Burgundy. They tell me our friends from Picardy are within two miles; -but faith, I shall not wait till they come up, lest we should have too -many to share our glory. Ha! here we are, St. Real; do me the favour -of putting your foot to the ground with me." - -St. Real instantly flung his rein to an attendant, and followed the -king on foot to the head of a regiment, where sat a strong elderly -man, whose countenance--the features of which were bland and -mild--wore a stern and sullen air, and whose cheek, showing here and -there the red lines of florid health, was now, nevertheless, pale in -its general hue. He dismounted from his horse as the monarch -approached, and rendered him a military salute with the same grave -sternness which had marked his aspect ere the king came up. Henry, -however, instantly laid his hand upon his arm in silence and led -him back--for he had advanced a few steps--to the head of his -regiment; and then, when every soldier in the ranks could hear, he -said,--"Colonel Schomberg, we are now on what will soon be a field of -battle, and it is very possible that I may remain upon it. I gave you -hard words last night; and it is not fair that I should carry out of -the world with me the honour of a brave gentleman like you. I come, -therefore, to recall what I said, and publicly to declare, that I hold -you for as good a man, and as gallant a soldier, as at this time -lives." Thus saying, he took the veteran in his mailed arms, and -pressed him to his bosom, while the warm tears streamed down the rough -cheek of the old soldier. - -"Ah, sire!" cried Schomberg; "in restoring me the honour which your -words took from me, you now take from me life, for I should be -unworthy if I did not cast it away in your service; and if I had a -thousand, I should wish to pour them forth at the feet of such a -king." - -"No, no!" said Henry, again embracing him; "spend your blood, -Schomberg, as I will mine, when there is need of it; but still keep it -as long as you can, for the service of your master. And now, my -friends, we will all do our duty. St. Real, my friend, to your post! -Schomberg, farewell! Monsieur de Vicq, have the kindness to tell the -Baron de Biron to advance the squadrons on the right for about two -hundred paces; for I see the front of the enemy begin to shake, and -the battle must be no longer delayed than sufficient to enable us to -get the sun and wind behind us, otherwise we shall be blinded with the -smoke and glare." - -Henry now rode back to his squadron; and St. Real returned to the head -of his own forces, which had by this time been reinforced, according -to the king's command, by James's horse arquebusiers. Here the young -leader, now well accustomed to scenes of battle and victory, fixed his -eyes upon the squadron of the king; and though anxious, with all the -fire of a chivalrous heart, to take an active share in the coming -contest, he yet determined to observe to the letter the orders he had -received; well knowing that they had been dictated by experience and -skill, such as he had not the vanity to believe he himself possessed. -Although the thought of danger or the thrill of fear never crossed his -bosom for a moment, yet the countenance of St. Real was grave and sad. -No man felt more for the suffering people of his native country, no -one regretted more deeply every fresh act of the great tragedy which -day after day deluged France with blood; but at the present moment, it -must be owned, St. Real's feelings were personal. He thought of -Eugenie de Menancourt; and his heart sunk, when, contemplating the -loss of the present battle, he suffered imagination to dwell on all to -which she might be exposed if the League were triumphant. Her real -situation he knew not, nor had he more than a vague idea of the -circumstances that attended her flight from Paris, for nought but -rumours of the event had reached him during his long service with the -royal army. But on that very morning he had learned from a trumpet, -who had brought him an insulting defiance from his cousin D'Aubin, -that the vassals of Menancourt were now led by the Count; that Eugenie -was still a fugitive from her home; and that it was generally supposed -amongst the Leaguers she had sought refuge with him. These tidings, at -least, taught him to believe that she was unprotected in the wide -world with which she was so little fitted to cope; and the letter of -his cousin showed him that misery and violence waited her, if fortune -favoured the arms of those who had already oppressed her. - -Such thoughts called a pang into his bosom, and a cloud upon his brow; -but feeling that even his individual exertion might aid in winning a -field on which so much was staked, he sternly bent his thoughts to the -events immediately before him, and watched, as we have said, the -squadron of the king with steadfast and eager attention. Scarcely had -the monarch rejoined that squadron, when the army was put in motion; -and taking its left as a centre, wheeled a little, so as to gain the -advantage of the sun and wind. When this was completed, the troops -again halted in a position decidedly better than the former ground; -and the next moment, a horseman, riding from the side of the king, -galloped at full speed to the artillery. Only four cannon and two -culverines were on the ground upon the side of Henry IV; but they -instantly opened against the enemy, and were recharged and fired with -such rapidity, that ere Mayenne could bring his guns to bear, those of -the Royalists had nine times poured death and confusion into the midst -of his ranks. The squadrons of the League could be seen to shake and -waver under that terrible fire; and horseman after horseman, parting -from the spot where Mayenne and his officers were placed, galloped up -to the tardy cannoneers, as if to hasten them in the execution of -their duty. An ill-directed volley at length followed; and at the same -moment the light cavalry of the League advanced to charge the left of -the Royalists. They were met, however, half way, by the impetuous -D'Aumont; whose squadron, passing through them like a thunderbolt, -turned and charged them again. The battle then became general; troop -after squadron was hurried into the fight; the smoke rolled in heavy -masses over the plain; and one of the dense clouds thereof, sweeping -between the troops of St. Real and the squadron of the king, for -several minutes prevented the young noble from seeing aught but -indistinct forms of dark whirling masses, now lost, now appearing -again in the white wreaths of vapour. Anxious to fulfil his charge -exactly, he led his squadron a few yards in advance; and at the same -moment the smoke clearing away, allowed him to perceive the principal -mass of the enemy, in which appeared the standard, or cornet, as it -was called, of the Duke of Mayenne, in the very act of charging the -small square of cavalry headed by the king. - -Wheeling the horse arquebusiers which had been joined to the troops of -St. Real, upon the flank of the advancing column, the English officer -who commanded them poured a volley into the ranks of the Leaguers, -which shook them severely; but still they came on at a thundering -pace, numbering nearly two thousand men; and the handful of gallant -gentlemen who surrounded the monarch were soon lost to the sight. The -heart of St. Real beat quick for his king; but the moment after, the -dark and struggling mass of Leaguers seemed rent by some mighty power -within. It reeled, it wavered; the clash of arms grew louder and -louder, and the flashing of pistols and the shouts of the combatants -were more distinctly heard where St. Real sat. The next moment forth -burst the unbroken squadron of the king, and wheeling rapidly, the -white plume pressed onward against the very front of the repulsed -enemy. - -At that instant, however, Count Egmont, the brave but unworthy son of -a noble and patriotic father, cast himself in the way of the horsemen -of the League, who were in the very act of turning their bridles to -fly; rallied them with words of fire and indignation, and brought them -back in fury to the charge. Already somewhat disarrayed by the -fierceness of the combat, the king's squadron was broken in every -part; and though the white plume was still seen towering over the -thickest of the strife, St. Real felt that he had abstained enough, -and led on his squadron to the support of the monarch. In the very act -of charging, however, he observed a strong body of horse draw out from -behind a little wood, called _La Haye des Prés_, on the left of the -army of the League, and bear directly down upon him. A moment's glance -showed him the arms of Aubin and Menancourt; and the next instant he -beheld his cousin giving the order to charge. St. Real instantly -halted, so as not to expose his flank; and the troops of his cousin -galloped furiously towards him, till they were within the distance of -a hundred yards, when some hesitation was seen in their ranks. - -"Thank God!" thought St. Real; "his heart is touched, and he will seek -some other foe." - -But the next moment this hope was done away, and the hesitation was -otherwise explained. The forces of Aubin approached still nearer, but -at a slower pace; and at length the whole of the horsemen levied on -the lands of Menancourt halted short. - -"Charge!" cried D'Aubin, with a gesture of furious indignation. -"Traitors, do you refuse to charge?" And galloping across the front, -he struck the headmost horseman of that troop a blow with his clenched -gauntlet that made him reel in the saddle. The man instantly recovered -himself, and shouting "For St. Real! for St Real! Vive Henri Quatre!" -galloped forward, followed by all the rest of the vassals of -Menancourt, who ranged themselves in good order by the troops of the -young Marquis. - -The forces composed of D'Aubin's own followers, small in proportion, -had halted in some disarray while their leader had crossed them to -chastise the refractory trooper; and they now found themselves -suddenly opposed to a body of more than double their own number. -D'Aubin himself, it would seem, was taken by surprise, although it was -evident that the defection of the retainers of De Menancourt was a -premeditated act, and although he had long remarked a coolness in -their service, and a disposition to quarrel with his own followers. He -paused then in doubt, glaring with eyes of rage and hatred over the -powerful squadron before him. Then whispering a word to his -lieutenant, he rode two or three yards forward, and shaking his -clenched fist, exclaimed, "St. Real, you are a traitor, and have -practised on my troops; but I will meet you yet, and force you to give -me reason." Thus saying, he turned his horse and rejoined his troops, -who were already slowly, and in better order than before, withdrawing -from the perilous position in which they stood. - -St. Real hesitated for a moment as to whether he should overwhelm -them, as he felt he could, by a single charge of his powerful -squadron; and duty struggled for a moment with the kindlier feelings -of his heart: but turning his head, a glance towards the king's -division saved him from farther hesitation, by showing him the -reitters of the League pouring down upon the monarch, in support of -the force under Mayenne; and he immediately wheeled his troops, and -met, in full charge, the superior body thus offered. Although the -heavier horses and armour of his own men-at-arms enabled them to break -the first rush of the German horse, the superior numbers of the latter -for a time prevailed, and the squadron of St. Real was borne back upon -that of the king. The ranks, however, on all parts, were by this time -broken; and, perhaps, never was a more complete exemplification of the -word _mźlée_ than the centre of the field of Ivry at that moment. Man -to man, and hand to hand, the fight was now continued. The lance had -fallen quite into disuse amongst the royal forces before this period; -the sword, the pistol, and the mace decided all; and so mingled and -perplexed were friends and foes, that more than one man-at-arms was -struck down by others fighting on the same part. The sounds of the -cannon still pealed from other parts of the plain; and, together with -the shouts, the pistol shots, the discharges of musketry, and the -clash of steel, rendered the words of the loudest voices -unintelligible, even when vociferating words of command to any -handfuls of men that still held together; while from time to time a -cloud of smoke rolled in amongst the combatants, hiding everything -else from their eyes, except the little group of horsemen fighting -around them. In the midst of the enemy's troopers, and only -accompanied by two or three of his most devoted followers, St. Real's -personal strength, skill, and valour, wrought over again the deeds of -chivalrous times. The reitters fell back before the sweep of his -tremendous sword; and plunging his strong battle-horse in amongst -them, he dealt death and terror around; while his own soldiers began -once more to gather and to form by twos and threes behind him. At the -moment when about a third of his squadron had rallied, through the -rolling smoke, he caught a glimpse of the white plume dancing still in -the midst of a dark group of horsemen, while a hundred weapons, waving -around it, seemed aimed at that life on which hung the destinies of -France. - -Without pausing even to think, St. Real spurred towards the -king: the reitters closed in behind him; and the next moment his -path was crossed by the man of all others whom he least desired to -encounter--his cousin. - -"Out of the way, Philip d'Aubin!" he cried, heated with the strife of -the moment; "out of the way! By the soul of my father, you will urge -me too far!" - -D'Aubin probably heard not what he said; at least his reply was too -indistinct to convey any definite meaning to the ear of St. Real, -though the furious gesture by which it was accompanied spoke for -itself. The Count spurred on upon his cousin; and St. Real, with his -beaver up, paused to see whether one in whose veins flowed the same -blood as in his own, would really raise the hand against his life. He -himself, however, was, as we have said, heated with the combat; and -when he saw D'Aubin gallop on, with the point of his heavy sword aimed -directly at his face, he lost patience, and spurred forward to meet -him. Dropping his sword, however, by the thong that attached it to his -wrist, he seized the mace, which, according to the old customs -cherished by his family, he carried at his saddle bow; and, parrying -the weapon of his kindred adversary wherever it attempted to strike -him, he made the mass of iron play round his head like a willow -wand--without, however, returning one blow of all the many that were -aimed against him. - -"Leave me, D'Aubin!" he exclaimed at length, as they wheeled their -horses close together, and he perceived that his cousin was bleeding -from several wounds he had previously received: "leave me, I say; you -are wounded, and no match for me.--Leave me, or you will provoke me -too far!" - -D'Aubin felt, however, that his cousin used not either his strength or -his skill against him; and his pride was more hurt to be spared than -it would have been to be vanquished. He replied nothing but "Traitor!" -and snatching a pistol from his saddle, levelled it at St. Real's -head. But the Marquis had marked the movement of his hand towards the -holster; and exclaiming, "Take that then, to cure your folly!" he -struck him full on the casque a blow that he intended to be slight, -but which drove in the steel, and laid him prostrate on the plain. - -St. Real paused for an instant, to see whether the ill-fated D'Aubin -would rise; but a cry of "_Au Roi! au Roi!_" struck his ear; and -turning, he perceived the Baron de Rosny, covered with wounds, -pointing to a spot where the white plume of Henry Quatre was still -floating in the midst of the foe. It still floated; but nevertheless -there was about it that uncertain wavering, that staggering rise and -fall, which showed St. Real at once that his sovereign was hard -pressed by the multitude that surrounded him. Every other thought was -instantly cast aside before the feeling of superior duty; and calling -to some of his troopers who were near to follow, he galloped on, and -cleft his way like a thunderbolt into the press around the king. Ere -he could reach him, however, a loud shout echoed from the midst of the -crowd, and the white plume disappeared. Two sweeps of St. Real's sword -dealt death to the reitters that lay in his path; and the next moment -he reached the spot where Henry was struggling up from the carcass of -his gallant charger, who had fallen dead beneath him, after receiving -a multitude of wounds. - -The young cavalier instantly sprang to the ground, exclaiming, "Mount -my horse, sire!" and held the stirrup while the monarch sprang into -the saddle. At the same moment a pistol shot struck him on the casque, -and made him reel, but it did not penetrate the well-tried steel; and, -looking round, he saw that in the brief space of time which had -elapsed since he came up, the spot on which they stood had become -comparatively clear, with none but one or two of his own and the -king's attendants very near, while on the slope of the hill appeared a -confused mass of the enemy, with their backs to the field of battle, -and their faces towards the Eure. - -The next instant his own ecuyer led him forward a horse, while the -king, exclaiming, "They fly, St. Real, they fly! Mount and follow with -what men you can collect!" struck his spurs into the charger's side, -and galloped on to gain the horsemen who were in the act of pursuing -the fugitives. St. Real hastened to obey, and springing on the -charger's back, in a moment gathered together about fifty of his own -troopers, and spurred after the king. As he reached the top of the -slope, the whole field of battle lay open before his eyes; and a -strange and confused, but not unpicturesque, sight it was. Three dark -masses of the Leaguers and their pursuers were seen hurrying over the -distant country towards the river; while, as the broken clouds were -borne rapidly over the sky by a quick wind, the different groups of -Royalists and fugitives, dashing on in fury after each other, were at -one moment covered with deep shadow which hid all the several parts; -at another, exposed, with the sunshine picking out in bright relief -each individual horseman as he scoured across the upland. On the other -side lay the plain where that fierce and bloody fight had taken place, -covered with knots of fugitives, prisoners, wounded and dead, with the -artillery playing upon a village in which the Leaguers were making a -last effort; and the clouds of smoke still rolling solemnly over the -field, after the fierce flash was gone, like heavy remorse following -the eager act of angry passion. Small bodies of the Royalists too were -seen, dispersing any group of the Leaguers who attempted to -reassemble, and taking those prisoners whose horses were incapable of -bearing them away; while the reserve under Marshal Biron, dark and -heavy, hung upon the opposite slope, advancing slowly like a lurid -thundercloud, borne along by the slow breath of the summer wind. - -Near the same spot whence St. Real took a hurried glance over the -field, the king himself had stopped for the same purpose; and the -moment after he turned back. "St. Real," he said, as he came near the -young noble, "the battle might be lost yet! Do you see the Walloons -have still possession of the village?--and that strong body of Swiss -there on the left still holds a good position. Come with me; we must -make sure of the victory ere we urge too far the pursuit." Thus -saying, he rode back at full speed towards the spot where his own -squadron had been originally placed. - -Lost sight of in the _mźlée_, his long absence had caused it to be -very generally believed that the king was dead; and his approach was -greeted by long and reiterated cries of "_Vive le Roy!_" from a number -of his chief officers, who were engaged in rallying and reforming the -squadrons which had been broken in the beginning of the battle. -"Thanks, gentlemen, thanks!" cried Henry, taking off his casque. "Look -to those Swiss, Monsieur de Biron: they may give us some trouble yet." - -"Shall I send the infantry of the right wing to break them?" demanded -the Baron de Biron. - -"No," said Henry, thoughtfully; "no! the Swiss have always been good -friends to the crown of France: nor would I shed the blood of any -fellow-creature, could it be helped. Some one take a white flag, and -offer them their lives if they lay down their arms and submit quietly. -Beseech them to spare more bloodshed--for they must fall if they -resist." - -The Swiss, however, were too wise to protract resistance when -resistance was vain. The offer of the victorious monarch was gladly -accepted; the last of Mayenne's army that kept the field, laid down -their arms. Henry then gave instant orders for a speedy and vigorous -pursuit of the fugitives: and thus ended the battle of Ivry. - -On the field where it had been fought, and on the spot where he -himself had contended hand to hand with his cousin, St. Real caused -diligent search to be made for Philip d'Aubin, superintending the -examination himself, and gazing anxiously upon every corpse that was -raised, until it became clear that the Count had not remained upon the -field of battle. It was late in the evening ere this task was over; -but when at length, after much useless labour, taken in order to leave -not a painful doubt behind, St. Real was at length convinced, he -returned to his quarters with a lightened heart and a thankful spirit. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -We must now turn to the Count d'Aubin; but ere we inquire what became -of him after he fell under his cousin's hand on the field of Ivry, it -may be as well to relate some of the events which intervened between -his night march from Gross[oe]uvres and his encounter with St. Real. -On reaching the quarters of the Duke of Mayenne, he found that prince, -whom he had not seen for some weeks, still up, notwithstanding the -lateness of the hour; and he was immediately admitted to his presence. -Mayenne was in high spirits, and full of confidence in regard to what -would be the result of the approaching battle; and, after some -conversation respecting the military arrangements about to be made, -the Duke handed D'Aubin a small strip of parchment, asking him if he -knew the hand-writing which it displayed. - -"If the Duke of Mayenne," the writing went to express, "desires to -recover a prize which not long ago escaped both his hands and those of -the Count d'Aubin, he will detach a small force of cavalry to sweep -the valley of the higher Eure between Courville and La Coupe." - -"Know it!" cried D'Aubin, "know that hand! I know it well! It is that -of my cousin St. Real's dwarf Bartholo. By the Lord! then Albert of -Wolfstrom was not so wrong in his suspicions; and, with your -highness's leave, after to-morrow's business be over, we will take -counsel how this fair fugitive may best be recovered. I know that part -of the country well; the St. Reals have a chace in the valley, and it -is wild, wooded, and difficult for the movements of troops. But after -the battle we shall have the whole country clear before us; and, if I -be not sadly disappointed, ere to-morrow is at an end, I will make my -fair and simple-seeming cousin pay for his perfidy towards me." - -"In that, act as you think best," replied Mayenne; "and after the -battle we will find means to recover the runaway, let the ground she -has taken for her refuge be as wild as it will: and now, D'Aubin, -farewell for the present. I will not bid so good a knight as you do -his _devoir_ to-morrow." - -D'Aubin slept little during the night, and he was up betimes on the -following morning; for a heart full of bitterness and anger chased -slumber away. One of the first in the field, after sending a defiance -to his cousin by a trumpet, he rode over the ground and narrowly -observed the position of the king, as the small army of Royalists -advanced from Fourcainville and the other villages where they had -passed the night; but as he rode along, he perceived that four or five -strange horsemen followed him about, as if watching his movements; -and, on inquiry, found that they had joined his troop as volunteers -since his arrival in the camp of the League. He took no farther notice -of them at the time, and full of other thoughts, fierce, bitter, and -engrossing, forgot what he had observed, till in the midst of the -battle he was abandoned by the troops of Menancourt; and doubting not -that they had been seduced by the pretended volunteers, he turned a -vengeful and searching glance towards the rear, where they had been -stationed; but to his surprise, the strangers closed up in line as -soon as the others had gone over to the Royalists, without showing the -slightest disposition to join them. D'Aubin then, as we have -previously related, retreated, intending to unite his diminished force -to some of the larger squadrons; when, perceiving that the reitters -under Albert of Wolfstrom had followed Mayenne in his charge against -the division of the king, and that the gallant chivalry of Henry -Quatre were still maintaining an equal field against the more numerous -forces of the League, he also poured his troops into the _mźlée_, in -the hope of deciding the contest. Scarcely had he done so, however, -when he heard the war-cry of the St. Reals, and caught a momentary -glance of his cousin's person, as the dark and rolling cloud of battle -broke away for a moment from before his eyes. - -Maddened by fancied injuries, but still more by a feeling of -inferiority and a consciousness of wrong, he strove to cleave his way -through the press, in order to try, against one whose powers his pride -undervalued, that skill and courage which had been so often successful -against others. He succeeded, as we have seen, in at length meeting -St. Real; but not till he had received several slight wounds--without -which, indeed, he would have been no match for his more powerful and -equally skilful cousin, but which tended to render him still more -unequal to the encounter that he sought. Baffled in the combat by St. -Real's skill, that vanity, which through life had led him forward from -evil to evil, urged him on with redoubled force; and when he saw, -without the power of parrying it, the descending blow which struck him -from his horse, he groaned, in bitterness of spirit, not from the fear -of death, but from disappointed hate. That blow, though light when -compared with what St. Real's arm might have dealt, drove down his -casque upon his head, split the rivets of the gorget, and laid him -without sense or feeling upon the plain. - -Scarcely had he fallen, when one of those fell monsters who frequent -fields of battle to plunder the dying and the dead, attracted by his -splendid surcoat, stooped over him, and, unbuckling the plastron, felt -his heart beat. To make sure of no interruption from a reviving man, -the human vulture struck him a stroke with his dagger. The wound he -inflicted was but slight, and his arm was raised for a more effectual -blow, when the sweep of a long sword, taking him in the back of the -neck, severed his head from his body, and stretched him across the -prostrate form he had been intent to plunder. The person who thus -interposed to save D'Aubin was no other than one of the five -volunteers who had joined his corps, and who, keeping close together -through the _mźlée_, without striking a stroke except in self-defence, -had followed, as fast as circumstances permitted, wherever the count -had turned his steps. The press round the spot where St. Real and his -cousin had encountered, had delayed them for some moments; but still -they came up in time to rescue D'Aubin from the dagger of the -assassin. The tide of battle had now somewhat rolled on; the ground -around was clear; and springing from their horses, the strangers -raised the senseless body of the wounded man in their arms, lifted him -on a horse, and taking every precaution in order to bear him safely -and easily, turned their steps with all speed from the field. Although -confused bodies of the Leaguers and the Royalists were by this time -mixed all over the plain, the men who bore D'Aubin wound their way -amongst the contending squadrons with skill and presence of mind, and -soon were behind the woods which skirted the plain to the right. The -musketry was no longer heard, the sound of the cannon was faint; and -pausing for a moment, they undid and cast away the Count's armour, and -bound up his still bleeding wounds. Then, once more bearing him amidst -them, they hurried from the field, taking the road towards Chartres. - -When Philip d'Aubin, after a long period of sickness, during which -insensibility and delirium had filled up the place of thought and -understanding, at length recovered a clear perception of his own -condition and of external things, he found himself lying, reduced to a -state of infant weakness, on a soft and easy bed, in a chamber which -was strange to his eye. Rich arras covered the walls; the hangings of -the couch were of velvet and gold; and through the open casement at -the end of the room breathed in the air of spring, sweet with the -perfume of jasmine and of violets. Mingled with that scent, however, -was a faint odour of incense; and on the left of the bed stood a -priest in his robes, with two or three of the inferior clergy; at the -foot were men in the dress then reserved for the followers of the -healing art; while on the right stood two or three women, and a page. - -For a moment these things swam indistinctly before the eye of the sick -man; but the next instant, one particular object attracted all his -attention. It was as lovely a form as ever man beheld, advanced before -the rest, and kneeling by his bedside, with her face hidden in the -rich coverings of the bed, and her dark black hair broken from the -large gold pin that ought to have confined it, and falling in masses -of bright dishevelled curls over her neck. The convulsive grasp with -which she held the bedclothes, the deep sobs that shook her frame, the -scared and anxious glances of the attendants, the solemn aspect of the -priests, the sacred vessels for the communion and extreme unction, the -extended cross held up before his eyes--all showed Philip d'Aubin that -those who surrounded him supposed him to be dying; and that what he -beheld was the last solemn ceremonies, and the last bitter tears, -which attend the passing of the living to the dead. All eyes, but -those which were hidden to conceal the burning drops that filled them, -were fixed upon his countenance; and as his eyelids were raised, the -priest, believing it the last effort of life, lifted his hands, saying -in a solemn tone, "_Accipe, Domine_"--but as the eye wandered round -the group, and the light of life and meaning beamed faintly up in the -lamp that had seemed extinguished, the old man paused and stooped -eagerly forward. - -D'Aubin would have given a world to speak, but his tongue refused its -office; and all that he could do was to turn a feeble glance of -inquiry to the countenance that gazed upon him. The priest, without -speaking, beckoned forward the physician, who laid his hand upon the -patient's pulse, and then whispered eagerly a word in the ear of an -attendant. A cup was instantly brought forward and held to the sick -man's lips; a few drops of wine moistened his tongue. With difficulty -and pain he swallowed the draught, and the unwonted effort made his -heart flutter like that of a dying bird; but soon the beating became -more regular; thick drops of perspiration stood upon his brow; he -tried again to speak; his lips moved for a moment without a sound; but -the next instant he succeeded better, and the name of "Beatrice!" -murmured on his lips. - -Hitherto there had not been a sound in the chamber, but the struggling -sobs of the beautiful girl who knelt by the bedside, and the stealthy -step of the attendant who brought the cup; but that one word, -"Beatrice," spoken by a voice that had been so long unheard, struck -the ear for which it was intended. Loosing her hold of the bedclothes, -she lifted her streaming eyes, saw the change that had taken place, -gazed for an instant with all the lingering incredulity of -apprehension, and then, seeing that it was true--quite true--Beatrice -of Ferrara started on her feet, and ere any one could save her, fell -back senseless on the floor. With as little noise and confusion as -possible, she was carried from the chamber; and every means that the -science of the day suggested, were employed to complete the recovery -of the Count d'Aubin. The physician, however, who attended him, was a -disciple of the great Esculapius, Nature; and therefore, slowly but -progressively, the patient regained a degree of strength. All -conversation was forbidden, and everything that might agitate him was -carefully removed from his sight. No one visited his chamber for -several days but the attendants necessary to watch over him, and the -physician who directed their movements; and when, at the end of three -days, the first returning struggles of D'Aubin's impatient spirit -would not be controlled, and he would speak in spite of all -injunctions to the contrary, the physician continued to sit beside him -all day, in order to ensure that the subjects permitted contained -nothing which would retard his recovery by agitating his mind. -Beatrice of Ferrara had never entered his chamber since the day when, -believing him to be in the agonies of death, she had cast off all -reserve, and given way to that passionate burst of grief, which -revealed to all around the secret of her heart's inmost shrine. Feeble -as he had been at that moment, D'Aubin had not failed to mark and -understand the whole; but in sickness, and with death at our right -hand, we feel such things in a manner different from that in which -they affect us in the high glow of insolent health, and all the vanity -of life and expectation. D'Aubin felt touched and grateful for the -love he saw; and when he asked for "The lady!" it was in a tone of -reverence and softness, unmingled with a touch of the vain lightness -which characterised the society in which they lived. - -"If he meant the Princess," the physician said, "she was well--quite -well." - -D'Aubin replied, that he meant Mademoiselle de Ferrara whom he had -seen in the room when he first recovered from the long stupor in which -he had lain. - -"Not many months ago," replied the physician, "Mademoiselle de -Ferrara, as you call her, became, by her uncle's and her brother's -death, Princess of Legnagno; but, as I said, she is well--quite well." - -The Count mused for a moment; but after a while he besought the -physician, in earnest terms, to obtain for him once more an interview, -however short, with the lady in whose dwelling he lay. The good man, -however, who had marked all that passed before, would not hear of it; -and it was only on the following day, when he found that Aubin's -impatience of contradiction was likely to injure him more than any -other agitation he could undergo--he consented to bear his request to -the ear of Beatrice. With her he found more difficulty than he had -expected. She hesitated to bestow that care and attention upon the -wounded man, now that he was recovering, which she had lavished on him -without reserve when he had appeared dying. Her answer to his entreaty -was cold and backward; and it was not till the physician brought her -word that her reply had so much grieved the Count that his health -suffered, that she consented once more to visit his chamber. - -With a pale cheek, and with a timid step, Beatrice again approached -the couch where D'Aubin, still as feeble as a child, anxiously awaited -her coming. Her dark bright eyes stole a momentary glance at his worn -countenance, and then fell again to the ground: for the feelings that -were within her bosom--the knowledge that her love could no more be -concealed, yet the wish to hide it--the compassion for D'Aubin's -present state, which prevented her from covering her real sensations -with the garb of coldness and disdain--and the doubt and the fear that -even yet the chastening rod of suffering might not have had its due -effect on him she loved,--all rendered it impossible for her to play -the bold and careless part she had hitherto acted, yet left it -difficult to choose another. - -Seating herself by his bedside, while the physician stood gazing from -the window, she strove to speak; but, for the first time in her life, -her ready wit failed her; and ere she could call it back, D'Aubin -himself broke the silence, and relieved her. "Beatrice!" he said in a -low tone, "how much have I to thank you for! how much deep gratitude -do I owe you!" - -"Not so, Monsieur d'Aubin," she replied, without looking at him: "I -have done but a common act of charity, in tending one so badly hurt as -you were." - -"Beatrice, dear Beatrice!" he replied, "use not cold words towards me; -for believe me, that of all the medicaments which the leeches have -applied to bring me back to life and strength, the sight of Beatrice, -when I woke from that cold and deathlike trance, was the best cordial -to my heart." - -She looked up, and there was something like tears in her bright eyes; -but all she could answer was, "Indeed, D'Aubin? Indeed?" - -"Indeed, Beatrice! and in truth!" replied D'Aubin; "and ever since -that hour the sight has been present to my eyes. I have remembered -it--I have fed upon it; and believe me, that it has not only tended to -heal the wounds of this weak frame, but has done much to cure the -diseases of my still weaker heart and mind. Beatrice, my beloved, I -have done you wrong. Wild, vain, and heedless, I have acted ill, and -have cast away my own happiness through idleness and folly. That time -is past: forgive me, Beatrice; and believe me, D'Aubin is changed." - -"I hope it may be so, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied the fair Italian, -more composedly--"I hope it maybe so; for though the past has given -pain to many of your noblest friends, still Beatrice of Ferrara never -yet gave up the hope that all might be amended. But now I leave you -for to-day, because such conversation is not fitted to your present -feeble state." - -"Nay, nay, stay yet awhile, Beatrice," he cried, holding her hand, -which he had taken, and gazing on her lovely features as if he would -have impressed every line on his memory so deeply that remembrance -might become a picture rather than that vague shadowy phantasmagoria -which at best it is. Beatrice, however, disengaged her hand, and -saying, "I will come again to-morrow; I must not be profuse of my -presence, D'Aubin, lest you cease to value it;" she glided away and -left him. - -Eagerly did Philip d'Aubin watch for her coming; and day after day, so -long as he continued unable to rise, did Beatrice accompany the -physician back to his chamber, after the man of healing had made his -morning's report touching his patient's health. Still fearful of -yielding to all she felt, and with an intuitive knowledge of that -subtle thing--the heart of man--Beatrice would fain have put a strong -restraint upon her words and actions, and struggled against each of -those little signs of deep and passionate love into which every day's -conversation was prone to betray her. But who is there with a heart so -obedient, and with a demeanour so completely under the rule and -government of the mind, as to avoid every tender word, or smile of -affection, or look of love, under a daily intercourse with one so dear -as he was unto her? Besides, too, he was recovering from wounds, and -had but by a miracle escaped death; and there is something sadly -traitorous to all strong resolutions in watching the coming back of -health--the reviving colour, the brightening eye, the expanding look; -and in hearing the round tone of life's full breath take place of the -low trembling voice of sickness. At first, as Beatrice entered his -chamber, she would smile with a look of arch gaiety, to see the -anxiety with which he turned to ascertain if it were her step he -heard; but as day passed by on day, that smile lost all but the signs -of gladness, and Beatrice might be seen watching for the hour of the -visit, as well as her wounded lover. One day only was that visit not -made; and that was the first on which D'Aubin rose from a couch -whereon he had passed nearly six weeks in danger and anguish. It was -not coquetry that made her refrain; it was not the least abatement of -her love; but a feeling which she strove not to explain, even to -herself, and which it would be impossible to explain to others. Be it -what it may that moved her, she passed that day in prayer. - -D'Aubin had been warned of her purpose not to come, and important -business was the cause that Beatrice assigned for her absence; but the -day having lost its usual occupations, neither the anxiety for her -coming, nor the remembrance of her visit, affording matter for -reflection, the thoughts of Philip d'Aubin turned to other things. Had -he been one of those stern moralists who examine with microscopic -exactness all their feelings, try every idea in the fine balance of -equity, and search out all the lurking motives of the heart, D'Aubin -might have started to discover how much he was recovered, by finding -out how much his thoughts were flowing back into old channels. There -were fancies crossed his mind, there were ideas presented themselves -to his imagination, at which he recoiled; and he was still so feeble, -his convalescence was still so far unconfirmed, that he blamed himself -for the recurrence of thoughts that, still smarting as he was under -the lash of suffering and the correction of adversity, he looked upon -as base and ungenerous. He hastened, then, to banish all such ideas, -and tried to look with horror and disgust those past vices and follies -which had been once his pride. But the surest sign that our faults -still cling to us, is the necessity of an effort to banish them from -our thoughts. So long as he had been really ill, D'Aubin had hated his -errors without an effort; but he was now convalescent, and they began -to play around his imagination as familiar things. - -The next morning broke in floods of splendour, bearing in a golden day -of May; and as soon as his attendants would permit him, D'Aubin rose, -and, supported by the physician, walked feebly forth into the garden -of the chateau, where many a flower was opening its young bosom to the -sweet breath of the spring air, and the warm beams of the genial sun. -Under the spreading branches of an old tree, which, standing by the -castle wall, cast its scarce unfolded leaves over the garden, some -seats were placed; and there sat Beatrice with several of her women, -busily employed at their everlasting embroidery: but ever and anon the -eye of the lady turned to the low postern door; and when she at length -beheld the expected sight, a smile, bright and beautiful as the -morning, beamed upon her lip, accompanied by as warm a blush as ever -touched with crimson the timid cheek of love. - -Hours went on, and days, working with their usual power to the change -of all things: but, oh! how differently does the mighty artist, Time, -labour on the world of subjects ever beneath his hands. Who would -dream that the same handiwork gave expansion to the bursting bud, and -shrivelled up the withering leaf of winter; or at the same moment cast -the pale violet dying on the green lap of spring, and called forth the -rose to bind the temples of the lusty year? Yet as different, as -strangely different, were the changes which he worked in Beatrice of -Ferrara and in Philip d'Aubin; and those changes must be told and -dwelt on separately. - -Beatrice gave herself up to hope, that bright deluder, whose skilful, -unseen diplomacy outwits, with scarcely an effort, the whole cabinet -of reason. Fondly, idly, she gave herself up to hope; and the triumph -of the magician was the more powerful, inasmuch as she had nobler -allies than the mere selfishness with which she usually works her -ends. Beatrice's hope was--not solely that the period of anxiety and -pain for herself was past--that the long-sought, dear-bought, -well-earned happiness was before her--that the intense and burning -love, which none but a nature passionate and ardent as her own could -feel, was returned with full and answering passion; but she hoped, -that he whom she loved, taught by severe affliction, had learned to -know and value virtue--had become nobler, wiser, better, under the -chastisement of sickness. The biting disdain which she had assumed -towards him, when, in the insolence of unchecked prosperity and -vigorous health, he had dared to speak the same language of love to -her that he held towards others--the scorn, the defiance, with which -she then treated him--had not survived the sight of a man, whose vices -even had not estranged her heart, lying wounded, senseless, and -apparently dying, before her eyes: and now, as day after day went by, -and she was permitted to trace the bright progress of returning health -on the face of him she loved; as a thousand new interests and tender -feelings sprang up under the little cares and anxieties of his -convalescence; as with the mild and gentle words of yet unconfirmed -health, he spoke vaguely, but not the less ardently, of hopes and -wishes, and feelings in common, the reserve which she afterwards -assumed, as a light armour against slight perils, was cast away piece -by piece; and she loved even to sit alone, and dream of him and -happiness. - -Such was the work of Time with Beatrice of Ferrara; with Philip -d'Aubin it was different. He saw Beatrice in all her beauty, and in -all her excellence, it is true, and he loved her better than any other -upon earth; and yet, as health returned, came back the thoughts that -he had known in health--the vanity, the pride, the levity. The heart -of man can love as deeply and as fondly as that of woman; and who -denies it such capability, libels it most foully; but the heart of man -or woman either, worn by the touch of follies and of vices, soon loses -its power to love: the temple is profaned, and the god will no longer -dwell therein. Women, less called upon to pass amidst the foul and -polluting things of earth, keep the heart's bright garment longer in -its lustre--that lustre which, like the bloom upon the unplucked -fruit, is lost at every touch; and this is why so few men are found to -love with woman's intensity; because they have staked the fortune of -the heart upon petty throws, and lost it piece by piece. So was it -with Philip d'Aubin: he could not love as Beatrice of Ferrara loved; -he could not feel as she could feel; and yet he loved her as much as -he loved anything, but other thoughts shared that love; and when he -remembered Eugenie de Menancourt, his unstable mind wavered under -contending doubts and purposes. The tie between himself and her could -easily be broken, he well knew, if both parties sought its -dissolution; but he knew too, that she would seek its dissolution with -an eagerness that roused every evil spirit in his heart in the cause -of mortified vanity. He fancied to himself her triumph; he fancied the -scoffs, and the sneers, and the jests of all that knew him; he -pictured the smiles that would hang upon the lip of many whom he had -scorned in his day of pride and success; and he crowned the whole by -representing to the eye of imagination, her who had disdained his vows -and rejected his hand, united to him who had supplanted him in love, -and overthrown him in battle. And yet he loved Beatrice of Ferrara -deeply, passionately; and while, at times, he revolved the means of -triumphing over Eugenie, and casting back the pre-imagined scoff in -the teeth of the world whose slave he had made himself, at others he -longed to fly with the fair Italian girl, whose love and devotion were -of so firm a quality; and, dying to his follies, his vices, and his -native land, to live in some far country in peace, and love, and -forgetfulness. - -Such were often his meditations as health and strength slowly -returned; and the increasing success attending the arms of Henry IV. -which reached his ear in vague rumours, rendered the better course -even the more immediately politic. It was thus one evening he had sat -listening to the lute and voice of Beatrice, and thinking that ever to -have that voice and lute to soothe the moments of gloom, and that -lovely being to be the star of a domestic home, were, in truth, a lot -that princes might envy, when the careful physician warned him away -from the garden where they had been sitting, and through which the -evening air was beginning to blow somewhat cool and sharp. D'Aubin -lingered a moment; but Beatrice, with gentle urgency, enforced the old -man's authority; and retiring to his chamber, the Count continued to -gaze out, in solitude, on the spot where his fair companion and her -women still sat. He heard the door of his apartments open, but he -heeded not; so fixed was his attention upon the beautiful line of -Beatrice's reclining figure, as--leaning back till the flowers of the -jasmine behind her mingled with her jetty hair, and with her hand -resting still upon the lute--she gazed up at a bright passing cloud, -that, tinted with the hope-like hues of the setting sun, was floating -fast overhead. - -"My lord Count!" said a low voice near him, "I have risked all to come -to you for a moment, and to glad my eyes with the sight of your -restored health." - -D'Aubin turned in some surprise, and beheld the small form of -Bartholo, his cousin's dwarf page. That form, indeed, seemed even more -shrunk and small than ever; and on the usually sallow cheek of the -dwarf there was a red and fiery glow that was not that of health; but -nevertheless his voice was calm and strong, and his bright large eyes -full of meaning and intelligence. - -"Ha, Bartholo!" cried D'Aubin; "art thou here? Right glad am I to see -thee: but how doest thou risk aught in thus coming to see me? Thou art -safe here!" - -"You know not, sir, that I have left your cousin long," replied the -dwarf, "and am now with my first mistress; the only one who has ever -had a real right to call me servant. But she wills not that I should -come hither. It was only because the other page was sick that I was -brought here to-day; and I tremble lest the time of departing comes, -and she should miss me; for she has the eye of a lynx, and would -instantly divine that I was here, against her express command." - -"Why, how now, man of mysteries?" cried D'Aubin. "The hour of her -departure! Does she not sleep in the castle to-night?" - -"Never, sir! never!" replied the page. "Since three days after you -began to mend, she has never passed one night within these walls. But -I have not time to explain more mysteries, and only came to see you -well, and perhaps, if I had a moment, to give you some counsel that -were not ungrateful to your ear." - -"Oh, you have time, plenty of time!" cried D'Aubin. "Lo, there she -sits, and she is running over the strings of her lute in another air, -though we cannot hear it here; but we can see when she rises; -beautiful creature! One could gaze on her for ever! What is it you -would say?" - -"I would ask," replied the page, "if his Highness of Mayenne ever -showed you some information he received concerning one whom you -thought no less fair than the fair thing before you?" - -"Yes, yes, he showed it to me!" answered D'Aubin. "But know you, -Bartholo, that since we met, my mind has undergone a revolution. Like -you, my little friend, I have changed my service also; and, as you -said, am now with my first mistress, the only one who ever had a real -right to call me servant." - -The cheek of the dwarf turned pale; and he replied, "I thought, -indeed, that you might be her servant, as we use that word in Italy: -her servant _par amours_; and yet might like to wed the other too, if -it were but to set your foot for ever upon all the gay jests and -ribald laughter that are going on in the capital and the camp at your -expense. But if you are set on marrying the fair Princess, Heaven -forbid that I should stay you from such a righteous purpose!" - -D'Aubin paused in thought for several moments, while the dwarf -alternately glanced his eye to the changing countenance of the Count, -and to the garden in which Beatrice still sat. "You speak strange -words, Bartholo!" said D'Aubin at length: "I, with all the world, have -deemed her as pure as the falling snow, ere it touches earth." - -"And so she is," cried the dwarf, eagerly; "and so she is, I do -believe. But yet, Monsieur d'Aubin, she loves--loves with that passion -which makes such steps as we speak of easy. Besides, we in Italy are -accustomed to look upon the marriage tie as a form much less binding -than that which love twines for itself--a mere form indeed; and she, -who worships the spirit of constancy, abhors all idle forms. But I -speak too boldly, noble sir; and yet I seek to serve you. I have heard -that Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, too, has betaken himself to your estates -of Aubin, and--but I must fly!--see, she is rising!" - -"Stay, stay a moment!" cried the Count; "she is not yet prepared to go -forth, and I have much to ask you. Tell me, where is the Lady of -Menancourt, and how may I best find her?" - -"I dare not stay, sir!" replied the dwarf. "As soon as she enters, she -will ask for me; but I will find another opportunity soon, of telling -you more. In the mean time, fear not, sir, to press your advantage; -for you know not passion's force with those upon whose birth a -brighter sun has shone. Remember, I never gave you false information -or wrong advice." - -"Good faith, no!" said D'Aubin; "but she is coming in! Farewell, and -return if you can to-morrow, my good Bartholo." - -Without further reply, the page glided out of the room; and while -D'Aubin, gazing upon Beatrice as she advanced towards the house, -pondered over all the poisonous words that had just been dropped into -his ear, Bartholo glided down the small and narrow staircases that led -to a far part of the building, laughing with a bitter laugh as he -went, and murmuring something of a goodly scheme well spoiled. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - -D'Aubin passed a restless and unquiet night; and the next morning his -pale countenance and languid look re-awakened in the bosom of Beatrice -of Ferrara all those apprehensions and anxieties which are treacherous -internal allies of the ambitious tyrant love. From that day, however, -the conduct of Philip d'Aubin underwent a change, slight, indeed, to -appearance, but yet of no small import. His demeanour grew softer, -tenderer, more solicitous towards his fair companion; his conversation -was all of love. From every bright thing in external nature, from the -stores of history, or the pages of imagination, he drew matter for -comparing, and illustrating, and typifying the ardent passion of the -heart. Beatrice listened, pleased, and joined in, and felt that she -was beloved; and spoke her own warm feelings boldly, so long as the -words were general. Her eyes, and the varying colour of her cheek, -told all the rest: and much would they discuss the evil and the good -of strong and fiery passion; and to their hearts' content they proved -that it was aught but a fault, a capability in a bright spirit, a -proof of superior energy of heart and mind. But then Beatrice said it -must be ruled and governed by ties and principles as strong and -energetic as itself; and D'Aubin, though he did not venture to -dissent, went on in the praise of intense and vehement love without -restriction, and brought forth a thousand examples in which that -passion, in what he called nobler and more generous times, had been -carried to a height unknown in their own age. Still, on every point -where he and Beatrice might differ, he touched the subject lightly, -and then left it; pointing still, by many an endearing name and soft -caress, the object and application of all his bland eloquence. -Beatrice hoped and believed, and was happy; and now that her bosom was -at rest--that the conflict of hope, and fear, and passion, which had -ceaselessly agitated her during the last four years, was at an end, -and her heart reposed in peace on the conviction of being loved, and -the prospect of future happiness, her demeanour grew milder, softer, -tenderer; it lost the wild and eager fire which it had acquired, and -fell back into all that was sweet, and womanly, and gentle. The days -passed on, too, in peace; for D'Aubin asked no questions upon the many -matters which might have called up subjects painful to either; and -Beatrice, ere she spoke of the past, wished all those things completed -which would put an irrevocable seal upon the happiness of the present. -Then she thought that addressing her husband and her lover both in -one, she could tell him that all he had done amiss was forgiven; that -he had been ever loved, even in his errors; and that her eye had been -ever watchful, her hand ever stretched out, to snatch him from the -consequences of his faults, and to lead him away from those faults -themselves. - -At length, on one bright and sunshiny morning in June, when the clear -lustre of health had fully returned into D'Aubin's eye, and his step -was as firm as it had been four months before, the lovers sat together -in a wood near the chateau, passing away, under the shadow of the old -trees, the hot hours of summer noon. She scarcely knew why, but with a -lingering touch of timidity, to which she yielded willingly, without -trying to scrutinise it, Beatrice had ever, in her interviews with -D'Aubin, kept some of her women round her; and although, feeling that -there was much to be said between them which were better said without -witnesses, she had day after day determined to dispense with their -presence, still there they sat at a little distance, plying the busy -needle on the object which served to occupy their discreet eyes. Their -presence was no great restraint, it is true, but still D'Aubin found -it burthensome; and, resolved to hesitate no longer in his purposes, -he besought Beatrice to send the women away. With a blushing cheek, -and somewhat of an agitated tone, Beatrice complied; and then, turning -away her head, played idly with the flowers that gemmed the grass on -which they sat. - -D'Aubin paused and hesitated, even at that moment, if he should go on; -but his determination soon returned, and gliding his arm round her -waist, while with his right hand he took hers unresistingly, he said, -"Beatrice, dear Beatrice, do we not love one another?" - -Beatrice replied nothing; but the trembling of her whole frame was a -sufficient answer; and D'Aubin went on. "Hear me, Beatrice, and -believe me, when I say that I love you with my whole heart and soul, -with the deepest, the truest, the most lasting affection; that I love -you better than anything on earth; and that for you I am ready to -abandon friends, and country, and station altogether." - -He paused, and Beatrice replied in a low voice, "But, thank God! no -such sacrifice is necessary, D'Aubin." - -"If it be, I am ready to make it," pursued the Count, in a voice to -which deep and sincere passion lent all its earnestness; "if it be, I -am ready to make it. Oh, Beatrice, you know not how I love you! but I -must be loved with the like affection, not with the cold and formal -love of fashion and society--idols to which I have only bowed because -I found no better godhead. Now I have found a power above,--now I know -that, however I have erred, I have loved you ever, and you alone; that -without you the earth would be one vast piece of desolation to my -eyes. Wherever you are, is henceforth my country; wherever you dwell, -is henceforth my home; for you I will sacrifice everything, for you I -will regret nothing. Tell me, Beatrice, is your love for me the same?" - -"Can you doubt it, Philip?" she replied, "can you doubt it?" - -"Then I am happy," he cried, pressing her to his bosom; "the vain -ties, the idle ceremonies of the world may bind together cold and -careless hands, and indifferent and unimpassioned bosoms, but between -your heart and mine, Beatrice, there will be a dearer, a nobler, a -more lasting tie, and we will have no other!" - -Beatrice disengaged herself from his arms. "What do you mean, -D'Aubin?" she cried: but then pausing, she added, "but I forgot; you -fancy yourself bound to another by one of those bonds of society which -cannot be broken: but you are mistaken; your supposed marriage with -Eugenie de Menancourt is null. The ceremony was vain, the seeming -priest was none, and I have papers here to prove that he was but a -soldier in the army of the Huguenots." - -"Glad am I to hear it," cried D'Aubin, again throwing his arms around -her; "yet listen to me, Beatrice; is the same idle ceremony necessary -between you and me? Do you doubt my love, Beatrice? will your -constancy faint unless upheld by an idle form? Is your love so weak, -that, when I am ready to resign all, even to my country, for you, you -will not make the sacrifice even of a mere name for me?" - -Beatrice turned, as he held her in his arms; and for an instant gazed -in his face, with a look of wondering inquiry, as if--even acquainted -with the world and all its ways as she was--the base, ungrateful -wickedness of his purpose were too much for her belief. At length, -convinced that her ears had not deceived her, and satisfied, from the -soft, entreating expression he assumed, that his proposal was the -result of calm, deliberate forethought--no idle jest, no capricious -trial of her heart--she burst from him like a young eagle from a net -which had been spread for larks; and, standing in all the majesty of -indignant beauty on the spot where she had lately sat, she gazed upon -him with flashing eyes, and a quivering lip, while the fingers of her -right hand felt along her girdle for the dagger, which, according to a -common custom of the day, usually hung there. But it had been -forgotten; and it might be lucky for the Count d'Aubin that it was so. - -For a moment anger and surprise, and bitter indignation seemed to take -away all words; but ere D'Aubin could speak again, she had recovered -herself. "Out of my sight, viper!" she cried; "base, ungrateful, -perfidious snake! Oh God! Oh God! never let woman, henceforth and for -ever, love man again. Let her trample upon that black thing, his -heart, and sport with his torture, and deceive his love, and betray -his confidence, till he know not where to find faith or truth in all -the world; for, the moment that he believes her true, or kind, or -gentle, or affectionate, he turns a serpent which would sting her, and -poison for her the life, the feelings, the happiness, she is ever -ready to devote to him. Out of my sight, traitor, I say! Why linger -you here?" - -"Hear me! hear me, Beatrice!" cried D'Aubin, rising and attempting to -take her hand. "Hear me! I meant not to offend you! I am no traitor. I -meant but----" - -"No traitor!" cried Beatrice. "Is he no traitor, that, received with -friendship and hospitality into the heart of a fortress in time of -war, treated with confidence and love, saved from death, cherished, -protected, befriended, strives to corrupt the garrison and betray the -leader, to ruin the defences, and destroy the walls? Out on thee, man! -Out on thee! I would not be the base, ungenerous, contemptible thing -thou art, for all the power of a Cęsar!" - -D'Aubin saw he had deceived himself; and at the same moment that he -perceived that he had risked the love of Beatrice for ever, he felt -most strongly what an inestimable jewel that love was. "Hear me--but -hear me, Beatrice!" he said. "Have I not said that I am ready to -sacrifice everything for you? I make no exception to that sacrifice; -not a pride, not a vanity, not a prejudice do I wish excepted. I will -sacrifice all! Be mine on any terms. I did but think that Beatrice was -more liberal, more unprejudiced, than our idle crowd of courtly dames, -who insist upon a ceremonious vow that they break, one and all, most -unceremoniously, rather than that private compact which binds the -heart." - -"Say no more, Sir--say no more," cried Beatrice. "Those last words are -quite enough, if all the rest of your conduct were insufficient. There -is hope in every man who can yet believe in purity; but he whose vice -is so confirmed, that he does not credit the existence of virtue, is -irreclaimable. So you did but think," she continued, while her cheek -again glowed, and her eye flashed--"you did but think, that Beatrice -of Ferrara was too liberal, too unprejudiced, to hold her honour as a -jewel, without which life is darkness and bitterness. You did but -think, that, because to save, to reclaim, to elevate a man she fancied -not wholly lost, she braved opinion, and, strong in her own -righteousness, set the world's maxims at defiance. You did but think -that she had forgotten the line between virtue and prejudice, in her -mad love for Philip d'Aubin, and would soon, for his sake, trample -upon the one, as she had spurned the other? But, sir, you were -mistaken; and you will now quit for ever her you have insulted." - -D'Aubin had nothing in the shape of reason to reply, but he had much -in the shape of love; and with a heart full of passion, and shame, and -regret, he failed not to plead for forgiveness with vehemence and -eloquence. Forgetting pride and all its train, he cast himself at her -feet; he held her hand when she sought to go; and he poured forth, -from the deep feelings in his heart, all those ardent and fiery words -which well might move and win. At first Beatrice strove to stay him, -and to disengage her hand; but when she found that his vehemence would -be heard, she stood and listened, but with that calm and cold -demeanour, which ere long brought his eloquence to an end. Then -withdrawing her hand and her robe from his grasp, she said, in a low -and agitated, but determined tone, which, full of deep feeling but -strong resolution, was much more striking than the words of passion -which had at first broken from her lips, "Rise, Monsieur d'Aubin! and -as I have heard you, now hear me! When first you talked of love to me, -I knew you to be young, and light, and foolish; but I thought that I -discovered, underneath the follies of youth and gaiety, deeper -feelings, better aspirations, and a nobler soul. I then saw you -flutter round many another woman, and I heard of vices into which I -did not inquire; for, in your language and your manner towards me, -there was much that gave me better hopes, and I strove to reclaim you -by gentleness and kindness. Deeper offences succeeded; and it became -me, though love loses hope but slowly, to assume a demeanour towards -you, which might at once tend to awaken you, and do justice to myself. -The weakness of a woman's heart taught me to believe, that, on one -occasion I had carried severity too far, and I reproached myself for -having hurried you on in evil. I soon had an opportunity of mending -that. In a battle, where I had good assurance that your party would -fail, I caused you to be followed by some faithful and skilful men, -who had orders to rescue you at any moment of extreme need. They -brought you wounded, and apparently dying, to my dwelling, and like a -sister I tended you night and day, till all hope was lost; and then I -wept for you as no sister could have wept. Against all calculation you -recovered; saw how deep, how strong, was my love towards you; taught -me to give full scope to that love, by pretending reformation and -virtue: and now you have ended all, by proving to me that kindness, -like the spring sun upon a torpid snake, but re-awakens your venom -with your strength; that you look upon the love of woman but as the -means of injuring her; that kind deeds and services but hire you to -ingratitude; and that, though you may be capable of passion, you are -incapable of love! Thus convinced, sir, I bid you quit me, and for -ever. No time, no circumstances, will change my resolution of -banishing you from my thoughts for ever; for Beatrice of Ferrara would -sooner die than wed one whom she has at length learned so thoroughly -to despise, could he offer a kingly crown." - -D'Aubin rose in silent bitterness, and half turned away; but ere he -went he again paused, as if to speak, and a few indistinct words -trembled on his tongue. Beatrice, however, stopped him, and with an -air of calm, stern dignity, exclaimed, "No more, Monsieur d'Aubin, I -will hear no more; it is time, sir, that you should quit one whom you -have so basely insulted. Your horse is in the stable, your health is -restored; my servants will guide and guard you on your way, should you -need protection; but never let your step cross the threshold of -Beatrice of Ferrara again, as never again shall your image enter her -mind." - -"Your commands shall be obeyed, Lady," replied D'Aubin, proudly; "and -as to protection, I need none. Fare you well, madam, with thanks for -the kindness you showed me at first; and with silence--if so it must -be--for the harshness you now show; and yet I could wish to be heard." - -"Not a word more!" replied Beatrice. "Sir, I bid you farewell! Laura! -Annette! Where are those girls? Annette, I say!" and turning from him, -she hastened on in the direction which her maids had taken when she -sent them from her. They were at no great distance; and bidding them -follow her, Beatrice with a rapid step retrod her way towards the -chateau. Firmly, and apparently unshaken by what had passed, but with -her dark bright eyes bent upon the ground, the beautiful girl entered -the gates of the house; hurried along its many passages to the chamber -in which, during the first period of D'Aubin's illness, she had been -accustomed to repose; and opening the door, advanced towards a chair. -But the energy of her great effort did not last till she reached it; -her brain reeled, her steps wavered, and she sunk upon the floor, -insensible and silent, ere her attendants could catch her in their -arms. That innate faculty which teaches women to divine, as by -intuition, the secrets of their fellow woman's hearts, held the girls -who had followed Beatrice quite silent and noiseless, as they did all -in their power to recall her to herself. There was no bustle, no -outcry, no running hither and thither for assistance; but with quiet -and persevering assiduity they tended her, till at length she opened -her eyes and gazed languidly round the chamber. Then came some broken -sobs, and then a flood of tears; and then, wiping away the drops that -gemmed her long dark eyelashes, Beatrice of Ferrara once more shook -off the bonds of woman's weakness, and was herself again. - -"Be silent on what has past, Annette," she said; "Laura, I know I can -trust you. I would fain learn whether the chateau is free of all -guests; I long to be alone in my own house again. Fly, Annette, and -see." - -The girl sped away, and soon returned, saying, "The count mounted his -horse, lady, and rode away some twenty minutes since." - -"Did he?" said Beatrice--"did he?" and she fell into a deep fit of -thought. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -So long as there was a human eye upon her, Beatrice of Ferrara -governed the mingled and passionate feelings that struggled with each -other in her bosom, and would fain have had the mastery of her also. -After a time, however, when she had preserved her apparent calmness -long enough to deceive completely those around her; when she had -drawn, with a hand full of grace and fancy, the groups of flowers -which were to serve as patterns for her maiden's embroidery--had -struck the chords of her lute with a careless but skilful hand, and -talked for some ten minutes on a butterfly--she desired to be left -alone. - -Then however, when, with the door closed and the arras drawn, there -was no eye upon her but that of Heaven, she once more gave way to all -she felt. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she cried, clasping her small hands, "to -be thus treated by one whom I have so deeply loved--for whom I have -done so much--for whose sake I sacrificed my nights and days, -scattered my fortunes, left my state and station, took on me menial -offices, put my life in peril, and even my good name to risk--and -more, far more, for whom I forgot and pardoned those errors that women -forget least easily, and loved him still, even when he sported with my -love as a thing of nought! Oh, God! oh, God! that he who, if ever man -yet believed the love of woman to be a pure and holy thing, should -have held the feelings of my heart most sacred--that he should dare to -talk to me the words of shame, the vile sophisms of guilt and infamy; -that he should dream that I--I who have stood alone, in the midst of a -depraved court, the wonder and hatred of them all--that I should -become his paramour, his leman, to be held or discarded at his -pleasure--to play him sweet airs upon the lute, and sing to him when -he was in the mood, and be called the Italian mistress of the gay -Count d'Aubin!" and, as she called up all the images of the -degradation he had proposed, she strained her hands upon one another -till the clear blood vanished from beneath the small finger nails; and -she raised her dark eyes to heaven, as if asking, "Is it possible that -God can permit such baseness." - -"It is my own fault!" she cried at length; "it is my own fault! I -should have known too well what a vile slave man is--how he licks the -dust beneath our feet, so long as we tread upon his neck, and turns to -smite us as soon as we smile upon him. I should have known it, and -with haughty dignity and distant sternness commanded the love that I -have stooped to win. It is my own fault, weak girl that I am--it is my -own fault! He thought that she who could go masquerading in boy's -attire, and make herself the companion of grooms and horse-boys for -his sake--that she who could dare the perils of the camp in a strange -guise--could come and go, at the risk of question and discovery, -through the gates of a beleaguered city--could bind up his wounds with -her own hands, and watch for fourteen nights by the side of his sick -bed,--would surely refuse him nothing--no, not her honour. Or perhaps -even now, in his profligacy of heart, he scoffs and jeers at the -thought of my fastidiousness; or deems that, by a cunning device and -affectation of virtue, I sought to patch up a ruined reputation by a -marriage with him. He may hold me as some light wanton! Out upon him! -out upon him! Did he but know the heart he tramples on!" and bursting -into tears, she covered her face with her hands, and remained thus for -several minutes in silent bitterness of heart. - -The tears again seemed to relieve her; and at length she wiped them -from her eyes, and looked out vacantly upon the gay and sunny -landscape that lay stretched in bright confusion from the height on -which the chateau stood, to some distant hills, that, rising again on -the opposite side of a deep valley, towered up, now covered with green -woods, now massed in the grey distance. - -However resolutely the soul may hold itself within the citadel of the -heart besieged by grief, the garrison of that sad fortress will be -affected by the sight of things that pass beyond its limits. Sweet -sounds, though we listen to them not, will tend to soothe; and -pleasant objects, though the eye appears void of all remark, will -tranquillize and calm. There were lovelier scenes to be found on -earth, than that which lay beneath her sight, and Beatrice had seen -many fairer far: but over it the sun, now slanting down towards his -rest, was casting soft broad shadows; and now and then a slow passing -cloud came, like the faint and pleasing shade of melancholy that -sometimes steals upon our happiest moments, and touched the bright -things below with a blue ethereal hue as it flitted on above them. -Nothing was seen to move in the sky or on the earth, but that slow -cloud and its soft shadow; but, on a bough before the window, a -gay-hearted bird carolled volubly to the evening sun, mingling, -however, now and then, with its blither notes, a tone or two in a sad -minor key, which made its song harmonise both with the scene and with -the heart of her who listened. I am wrong; the heart of Beatrice did -not harmonise with it,--her bosom was full of griefs too deep, too -lasting, to assimilate with the glad voice of nature; but still the -melancholy tones so far chastened the cheerful song of the bird, that -she could hear it and not think it harsh, and the shadows of that -cloud were just sufficient to make her feel the brightness not -blighting. She sat and gazed; and though neither her eye nor her ear -marked anything with precision, she fell into a dreamy fit of musing, -and that musing was softer and less bitter than it had been. - -True, she thought of the course of her love, and of that love's -blight. She knew that for her joys of life, the dreams, the hopes, the -imaginings--all the green things of a happy heart, in short--were -withered, and blasted, and shrivelled up, like the leaves of a bough -broken off by the lightning. To be calm and passionless, sad and -solitary, were the brightest aspirations which her once ardent bosom -could harbour now; but still to think over such a state, was peace, to -the bitter paroxysm that went before. Did she ever think that hope -might revive in regard to him she had loved? Never! For though her -love was not over--ah, no! and she would have given her fortune and -her life to have blessed him; yet so lost was all her esteem and all -her confidence, that could she have thought her heart would ever -betray her into one weak fancy in regard to him, she would have torn -it out to trample it beneath her feet. She loved him still, she knew, -she felt she loved him; for her heart was as a pile of incense which -that passion had lighted, and the fire could only be extinguished by -the end of her own being; but still the dream, the bright and golden -dream, of happiness was over; and not even love--that ardent and -undying love, which was now an indivisible part of her being and her -soul--could have bribed her, by the brightest promises of hope, to see -that man again, or hear his lips pronounce one other word. No! -bitterly, but fully, was she convinced at last of his unworthiness; -and though she still loved the erring and earthly being whom her own -imagination had purified and adorned, the dream of hope was at an -end--the voice of the syren was mute: and yet a consolation gradually -stole upon her heart, soothed the anguish and disappointment, and did -away the indignation and disdain. On it, too, she framed the scheme of -her future life, as she paused and thought of the coming years. That -consolation was the conviction, the certainty, the indubitable -assurance, that she was beloved; that he who had insulted and injured -her--who had repaid her tenderness with ingratitude, and her -confidence by baseness--still loved her deeply, passionately, and -alone. What then was her resolution? Not to watch him farther, even -through the eyes of others--not to seek for tidings of his actions, or -to dream that he would amend; but on the contrary, to fly him far and -for ever; to shut her ears against every rumour from the land in which -he lived, and dead as he was to her, to consider him no more amongst -the living; but still, as the balm and the comfort of the long -after-years, to remember that she had been beloved--that, impure and -dark as was the flame that had been lighted upon the altar of his -heart, still it had been kindled, and had burned for her. This was to -be the theme of memory--the occupation of her long, lonely hours--the -matter for the immortal working of thought--the balsam for her wounded -heart--the light of her long night of maiden widowhood,--that she had -been loved by him she loved! - -As she thus thought, and as she thus determined, the bitterness of her -grief diminished. Dark and melancholy, indeed, was the fate that she -pictured for herself, but yet it was relief, for it offered her -tranquillity at least; and she had learned, amidst the strife of hope, -and fear, and passion, to value God's best blessing--peace. Her -meditations had been long, and had not exactly followed the even -course in which they have been here detailed; for tears were not -wanting to chequer them, nor many an angry and a bitter thought to -struggle hard against the not unsound philosophy with which she sought -to preserve, for future years, all, out of the bright harvest of her -hopes now blighted, that had escaped the storm. But the tears grew -less frequent, and the bitter pangs of disappointment waxed fainter, -as the minutes flew; and at length, when she had determined how to -shape her course through the rest of life's long and dangerous voyage, -she raised her eyes once more to the heaven above and the landscape -below; and the objects which met her gaze were more marked and noted -now, than they had been not long before. - -The change upon the scene, however, was but slight--the same bird was -still tuning its unwearied throat in the tree hard by--the same -unmoving stillness dwelt over the whole view--and not a living object -was to be seen upon the solitary road that wound away through a thinly -peopled part of the much-depopulated realm of France. But the shadows -had grown longer, and the little stream which had lately glistened in -the sunshine, now rested scarcely visible in the brown shade of the -hills; and those changes, slight as they were, to a quick and -imaginative mind like that of Beatrice, might well speak of time's -rapid pace, and man's slow resolves. Stretching forth her hand to a -small silver bell, she rung is sharply; and when the girl Annette -appeared, bade her call Bartholo instantly. - -It was not long before the dwarf obeyed the summons; and though he -entered with that air of deference and respect, which was habitual to -him in the presence of Beatrice, yet there was a gleam of satisfaction -in his eye which he could not quell; and which, had she been in her -usual keen and observing state of mind, would not have escaped the -glance of his mistress. But Beatrice scarcely saw him as he stood -before her; but sat with her eyes bent upon the ground, and her busy -thoughts straying sorrowfully over the past. - -"You sent for me, Madam," said the dwarf at length; "and I come -joyfully, because I have not been thus honoured of late so often as I -used formerly to be, when Bartholo's scheme, or Bartholo's advice was -well nigh his lady's oracle." - -"I have somewhat distrusted thee, Bartholo!" said Beatrice, gravely. -"Many of my plans have failed in thy hands----" - -"But by no fault of mine, lady!" cried the dwarf, eagerly. "What have -I done to be distrusted? How have I deserved to lose your confidence? -What secret have I betrayed? How have I acted to frustrate anything -that you proposed?" - -"Those, Bartholo," replied the lady, "those who suffer themselves to -be discovered in their art, by open acts or heedless words, are -politicians of a different stuff from that of which thou art made. But -there are such things as looks, and smiles, and frowns, and curlings -of the upper lip, which, to the eye of Beatrice of Ferrara, are often -as legible as a book fairly printed in the language of her native -land. I have somewhat doubted thee; but I may have been deceived--and -God send it may be so! for I would not willingly believe that any one -whom I have nourished with my bread, and have rewarded not only with -dull gold, but also with inestimable favour and affection, would -deceive or betray me; far less could I wish to think, that one who has -known me from infancy, and on whom my parents, as well as myself, have -rained benefits, would wrong my confidence." - -"Lady!" replied the dwarf vehemently, "so help me Heaven, as I would -sooner die than do ought that you do not wish, except for your own -good!" - -"Ay, there may we bitterly fall out, good Bartholo, if we speak -farther!" replied Beatrice. "What I require is service, and not -judgment of my actions; and henceforth let me but see that you even -waver in obeying, or fulfil not my behest, whatever it may be, to the -very letter, and I will send you from me never to return again. -However, I somewhat doubted thee, and therefore have not trusted thee -in matters where I required uninquiring promptitude and exact -obedience. Those matters now are over, and a smoother trodden path -lies out before me." - -Bartholo started, for he had heard and marked much that had passed; -and yet she spoke so calmly, that he deemed it impossible one of her -passionate nature could bear the blight of all her hopes so meekly. -"It has wrung my heart, lady," he said, in a tone of deep despondency, -that touched Beatrice more at this moment than it might have done at -any other, because grief is credulous of grief. "It has wrung my -heart, lady, to have been distrusted by you for an hour, though the -wound would have gone deeper had I deserved it. But you know not, -lady, what it is, when one has been brought up from boyhood near so -bright and good a person as yourself; has been habituated to watch -your every word, to obey you, and to hasten before your wishes to -please you; has become keen of wit and daring of execution for the -sole service of your behests; and has watched you expand from -loveliness to loveliness, like a flower in the spring tide--you know -not what it is to be looked coldly on, even for a moment; to be -distrusted by her whom one would give the inmost heart's best blood to -serve." - -The tone touched Beatrice, for it was unlike the dwarf's ordinary -cynicism: but there was something in the words, though they were -respectfully spoken, which did not please her; and she might have -replied more coldly than the kindness of her heart approved, had not -the dwarf gone on rapidly:--"At your birth, lady, I was little more -than twelve years old; and from that hour to this, I have followed -your fortunes and obeyed you in every word, even to quitting you when -you bade me quit you, and taking apparent service, once with a man I -hated, and once with a man I despised; and now I find that you have -distrusted me, you have looked cold upon me, you have kept me from -your presence! Lady, I beseech you, do not so again; rather as you -say, send me from you for ever. Call me to you, and say, 'Bartholo, -thou pleasest me no longer, get thee gone, and take thy stinted and -misshapen form from before my eyes; let me see no more thy apish -countenance! Despised of all the world, thou art despised of me also; -and though the dwarf has been my sport and mockery, has stood in the -place of parrot, or lapdog, or marmoset, I am now tired of the goblin; -so get thee hence!' Say this! say a thousand things more biting and -bitter still, but never, oh never, lady, distrust me again." - -"Nay, Bartholo, nay!" replied Beatrice, better pleased with his last -words than those that preceded them. "Thou goest too far, in the -bitterness of thine anger. I have never contemned, I have never -despised thee! and have felt pity for thy fate, less because it truly -deserved pity, than because it grieved thee. As to the past, thou -ownest thyself, that if thou hadst deemed my interest required it, -thou wouldest have betrayed my confidence; I was just, therefore, in -mistrusting thee; but it was thy vanity I doubted--vanity that must -judge of my happiness better than I can myself--and not thy love, -Bartholo, which I do verily believe would seek that happiness for me -at the risk of life." - -"Oh! never, never doubt that, lady!" cried the dwarf, casting himself -at her feet, and kissing her hand; "never, never doubt that; for your -utmost trust therein can only do me scanty justice." - -Beatrice withdrew her hand. "Enough, enough!" she said. "We understand -each other for the future. You always remember, that I am the best -judge of my own happiness; and I----" He shook his head with a -mournful look, and clasping his hands together, cast his eyes upon the -ground. "What mean you, knave?" cried Beatrice, for his action -interrupted her more than words could have done. "What would you by -that gesture?" - -"I would ask, lady," said the dwarf, in a firm but melancholy -tone,--"If you have lately proved yourself so good a judge of your own -happiness? Pardon me, my noble lady! Pardon me! but did I not long -since predict all that has happened? Did I not tell you, when first -you fixed your love on one whose name I will not pronounce, so deeply -do I hate him for his conduct towards you----" - -"Hate him not, Bartholo!" interrupted Beatrice, fixing her bright dark -eyes upon the dwarf as she spoke--"hate him not, Bartholo; for I love -him still! and he loves me!" - -A bright flush played over the pale cheek of the dwarf, like a gleam -of summer lightning upon the twilight sky, and his nether lip -quivered; but for some moments he made no reply, except by again -clasping his hands together, and gazing down upon the ground, as if in -deep meditation. "Lady!" he said at length, "you love him still! I -doubt it not; for yours is one of those firm hearts, on which a line -once engraved can never be effaced. But alas, alas! he loves not you; -and all your sad experience will not convince you, solely because you -still love him." - -"Not so, Bartholo," replied Beatrice. "All my experience convinces me -that he does love me; and I thank God for it, though most likely I -shall never see his face again. Do not interrupt me! For once I -condescend to speak to you of my past and my future actions; but after -this, we mention such things no more. I am not the weak being you -believe me. I placed you in the service of Philip d'Aubin, now years -ago, not that you might act as a spy for me upon each pitiful and -insignificant occurrence of his life, or note every failing or every -falsehood he committed against the vows he had plighted to me; but, on -the contrary, to satisfy myself on two great points, whereon my future -happiness depended, first, whether he loved me, and next, whether he -might not become worthy of my love. When he left Paris and retired -into Maine, shaken by still greater doubts, I determined to watch him -myself more nearly, and made you prepare me an entrance into the -family of his uncle; but it was still for those two great objects that -I risked so much. Circumstances rendered this scheme nearly fruitless: -the death of his uncle, his return towards Paris, his separation from -his cousin, all thwarted me; but still, step by step, and little by -little, his character developed itself before me. At length, hoping -and confiding still, I had the man I loved, followed by my emissaries, -traced from place to place, withdrawn from the fatal battle which -ruined the cause he had espoused, and brought hither as thou knowest. -Here I watched him from sickness unto health. Here the last trait of -his character displayed itself. All is open--all is clear! My two -questions are resolved! I am satisfied. He loves me, Bartholo! He does -love me! But he is unworthy of my love!" - -She spoke rapidly and eagerly, but she had by this time regained her -command over herself; and not a tear rose in her eye, as she briefly -touched upon the various efforts which love, deeper, stronger than -even she herself believed, had urged her on to make, and upon the sad -result of all her endeavours. As she ended, indeed, she raised her -eyes to the sky; and, led away by memory, forgot the presence of the -page and the conclusion of her speech, and, gazing out for many -minutes, remained in silent but painful meditation. Still she gave no -way to grief; and, after awhile, again turned towards the dwarf, -saying--"Well, Bartholo, so much for the past! Now for the future. For -eleven long years have I sojourned in this fair realm of France, but -my stay therein draws towards an end. The last tie that bound me to -this place is broken! My soul yearns towards my native land. Bartholo, -I am about to tread back my way to Italy." - -"Indeed! indeed!" cried the dwarf, his whole face brightening. "Then -all is right, indeed. But when, lady--oh, tell me when?" - -"I knew not that thou wert such a lover of thy native land!" replied -Beatrice, as she gazed upon his small features beaming with a sort of -triumphant joy. "I have heard thee call thyself a citizen of the -world; and vow that nature, when she made thee smaller than the common -race of other countries, by unfitting thee for any, had fitted thee -for all alike. But I see that, smother our feelings however we may, -the love of our own land will not give way so long as memory binds us -to it with the thousand ties of sweet associations and early -happiness. Well, be thy mind at ease! Eight days, eight short days, -and I am on my way hence, unless some unforeseen event delay me. I -have but to withdraw my poor girls from Paris, at least those that -like to follow me; to place the somewhat wasted wealth which I have -here under the protection of the laws, if the laws, indeed, can give -protection now-a-day; to make sure of one point more, which will soon -be settled, and then to depart." - -The face of the dwarf, which, during the whole of his interview with -his lady, had been agitated with strong feelings either of -mortification or of joy, now at once resumed the look of calm bitter -cynicism, which, though perhaps more natural to his features, was, at -all events, more habitual. "Ay, lady!" he said, "so it is ever! There -is ever one point more to be made sure of when a lady's love and her -judgment lead her different ways; and that one point more will very -surely keep your steps from Italy. So I will e'en go and sing." - -"Knave, thou art somewhat too bold!" cried Beatrice. "I have pampered -thee too much, and made thee insolent; but thou shalt be better taught -in future!" - -"Not so, lady, not so!" cried the dwarf, in a deprecatory tone. -"Forgive the first outbreaking of my disappointment. I thought our -journey to Italy sure, when suddenly came that '_one point more_;' and -I know human nature all too well to doubt, that upon one small point -love can raise up such mighty prison-walls, that the best climber, ere -he could escape, would break his neck in the attempt to scale them." - -"Like others who fancy they know human nature well," answered -Beatrice, "thou cheatest thyself with thine own imaginations. That one -point more will not detain me here; but whether thy curiosity -regarding it--and which I clearly see--originate in folly or in -policy, it shall not be gratified. Content thyself with what I choose -to tell thee, and ask no more! And now listen to my commands. Make -every preparation for a journey; and in regard to this house, on which -I have wasted so much wealth that might have been better spent, take -order that, if possible, it be guarded against the chances of these -civil wars till peace be again established. You understand what I -would have. When law is once more recognised in France, perchance it -and the hotel in Paris may be sold, and I have nothing more in a land -that I no longer love. Now get thee hence and leave me; but let all -things be done quickly." - -The dwarf replied nothing, but retired at once; and Beatrice, after -following him with her eyes to the door, sat for several moments in -silence, with an air of anxious thought. "I doubt that imp!" she said -at length. "I doubt that imp! There has of late been a fire and an -eagerness in his words when he speaks to me that I love not; and I -have remarked that his eyes, when he thinks that mine are not on him, -have a somewhat bold familiarity with my person." And as she thus -thought, a slight shudder passed over her. "I doubt him," she went on; -"and he is bold, and cunning, and politic, to a point rarely reached -by those whose communion with their fellow-men is more extended than -his, and who, consequently, find a thousand things to call their -attention from their darling schemes. I doubt him, and will have him -watched! I fear he may have betrayed me already, but he shall do so no -more. Annette!" she cried aloud, "Annette!" - -The girl appeared, and her mistress bade her send Joachim to her. Some -minutes then elapsed; but at length appeared the old man who had so -skilfully managed the little comedy which had enabled Beatrice and -Eugenie de Menancourt to pass the gates of Paris. "Joachim!" said his -mistress, as he entered, "have a strict watch put upon the dwarf -Bartholo: I doubt him; I doubt his faith and honesty." - -"And so do I, lady," replied the man. "I myself heard you command him -not to show himself in the sight of the Count d'Aubin, and to my -certain knowledge he visited him alone in his chamber." - -"Indeed!" said Beatrice, thoughtfully; "indeed! That may mean much! -But have him watched, without making it apparent. Quick, Joachim! You, -at least, I can trust." - -"You may, dear lady!" replied the old man, laying his hand upon his -breast; and then, bowing low, he left Beatrice to long, deep, anxious -thought. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -There be many hearts that, in the full fruition and delight of what -they have obtained by evil means, know not remorse, and taste such -happiness as gratified passion can bestow. There be also those firm -and constant hearts which in the midst of trouble and adversity shake -off one half of calamity's heavy load by the strength of conscious -virtue and integrity; and there be some so dull and so obtuse, as, -under any circumstances, not to see and appreciate the worst portion -of their fate. But the curse of curses, the deepest earthly -retribution that can be poured upon the head of the wicked, is to find -their schemes frustrated, and their desires disappointed, by the very -evil means which they have taken to accomplish them. Such was the case -of Philip d'Aubin at the moment he left Beatrice of Ferrara; but -passion, and mortified vanity, and angry pride, combined to support -him for the time, and to shut his eyes to the stinging certainty that -his own vices had produced his own misfortune. - -For an instant he gazed after the fair girl he had lost for ever, as -she turned from him in beautiful disdain; and he felt tempted to -follow her, and casting himself once more at her feet, to acknowledge -his errors, and throw away his faults in repentance. But with her -anger there had mingled a look of scorn, against which the worst -weakness of his nature rose in arms. Her indignation, her reproaches, -her wrath, he could have borne, but the contempt that curled her lip -roused vanity against repentance; and setting his teeth firm, he -muttered "Never! never!" and took another path to the chateau. Passing -hastily to the apartments which he had occupied, he bade the servant -that he found in waiting, summon the _maītre d'hōtel_ to his presence, -and questioned him on his arrival in regard to what part of the -baggage with which he had joined the army of the League at Ivry had -been brought thither from the field, and where were the soldiers and -attendants who accompanied him. - -"Neither baggage nor attendants of your own followed you here, sir," -replied the man. "You were carried off from the field insensible by -four or five of my lady's horsemen, and came hither still in your -buff-coat and part of your broken armour. The purse which was on your -person, sir, and its contents, are in that closet, if you have not -taken it. Your horse is well, and in the stable; but your troops and -your attendants were all dispersed; nor have we heard aught of any of -them, except that some found their way to the Chateau d'Aubin; for -which, and for your lands in Maine, we learn his majesty the king, at -the request of Monsieur de St. Real, has granted an immunity, lest -they should be plundered in the war." - -There was a dryness in the man's tone that displeased the Count -d'Aubin; and eyeing him with a somewhat frowning brow, he said, "Well, -then, I will go forth from your lady's dwelling as I entered it, -alone. Order my horse to be saddled: doubtless a countryman can easily -be hired to guide me on my way to my own lands. How far is it hence to -Vibraye or La Ferte?" - -"Some thirty leagues, sir, by the road," replied the _maītre d'hōtel_; -"but if you cross through the woods and by the hills--where the way is -not bad--the distance is hardly more than half as much." - -"Well, then," said D'Aubin, "I will take the shortest; seek me a -guide;" and while the man was gone upon that errand, he walked up and -down the room with his hands clasped, and his eyes bent upon the -floor. Even then his better spirit whispered that it was not yet too -late; but the fiend rose against such counsel, and setting his teeth -hard, he took his purse from the spot where it had been placed, and -descended to the court-yard. His horse was already prepared; and one -or two of the innumerable retainers that thronged a great mansion in -those days were loitering about below. The _maītre d'hōtel_ returned -in a few moments with a guide, riding on one of the small horses of -the country, and D'Aubin, putting his foot in the stirrup, slowly -mounted his charger. As he did so, he ran his eye over the many small -windows of the building; but nothing like a female face was to be seen -at any of them; and, turning to the attendants who stood around, -somewhat marvelling to see him thus depart alone and unnoticed, after -all that had lately passed, he bestowed upon them half the contents of -his purse, and then, with a slow pace and frowning brow, rode through -the gates into the country beyond. - -There was a well of bitterness in his heart, which kept him silent as -he rode on; and more than half an hour passed ere he even asked a -question of the guide. Nor was his a mind to be soothed or comforted, -or rendered better or wiser, by thinking over events in which his own -follies had acted so principal a share. Too much a spoilt child of -vanity willingly to examine his own conduct with steady and impartial -eyes, he felt himself injured, rather than reproved, and meditated -chiefly how he might heal the wounds which had been inflicted on his -pride. At length, however, the sight of a distant town recalled to his -mind the state of the land through which he travelled; and he -remembered that it might be absolutely necessary for his own security -to ascertain the exact political situation of the different cities in -the vicinity. The guide, to whom his questions were of course -addressed, was shrewd and intelligent enough; and from his answers -D'Aubin found that the track, through which his road lay, thinly -peopled, and possessing few places of any importance, had known, as -yet, but little of the evils of civil war. A body of troops had, -indeed, occasionally crossed it. One or two of the defensible chateaux -were held for the king or for the League; now and then, too, a troop -of plunderers attached to one of the parties would appear, carry off -what pillage they could collect, and then retire; but no regular force -was known to be in the neighbourhood, except indeed a company of horse -arquebusiers, stationed at the small town of La Loupe, on the part of -the king, in order to keep open his communication with Maine and -Touraine. The guide, himself, was a strong Royalist; and as the Count -d'Aubin soon ascertained that fact, he neither gave him any -information in regard to his own party and opinions, nor trusted too -much the man's reports of great successes attending the king's arms, -and of the return of peace and prosperity, wherever the country -heartily resumed the virtues of obedience and submission. - -Having now, by the questions necessary to ascertain the state of the -country, broken the dull and sullen taciturnity which had bound him -for some time, after quitting the chateau of Beatrice of Ferrara, -D'Aubin continued the conversation, as a relief from thought; and many -was the subject on which he needed information, as during the last few -weeks he had given up all his thoughts to happier topics, and to -brighter dreams, than either war or policy could supply. Curiosity of -every kind had seemed dead within him; but now he learned much from -the answers of his guide, and guessed more from many a vague distorted -tale, which the man had heard, concerning the late movements of the -armies;--tales which, indeed, contained in general less truth than -falsehood, but which were easily rectified, by the previous knowledge -and better judgment of the narrator's auditor. Much, too, did D'Aubin -hear of Beatrice of Ferrara; of her habits of life since she had -quitted Paris; of those kindlier virtues and gentler pursuits which a -capital suffers not to show themselves; and of the ardent and -enthusiastic love which the peasantry around had learned to bear -towards her. He listened and mused, and good and evil purposes -struggled hard together in his heart; but the evil was still -predominant; and though a lingering inclination to cast himself at her -feet, and sue for pardon, would make itself felt, more often still did -he ponder upon the means of teaching her, who had so bitterly rebuked -him, to repent in agony of spirit the resolution she had formed -against him. Ever and anon, too, with a feeling of still unconquered -triumph, he thought, "She loves me still! she loves me still! and the -man who possesses a woman's love holds her in bonds that it is -difficult to break." - -Thus past the hours; and towards seven o'clock the guide stopped at -the poor _auberge_ of a small open village, in order, as he said, to -give the horses rest and provender. The scene was wild and hilly; and -D'Aubin now began to recognise the country around, which was little -more than twelve French leagues from his own paternal dwelling. His -recollection was vague, however, and not sufficient to justify him in -dismissing his guide; and, anxious to proceed, he took no refreshment -himself, but urged the man to hasten on, hoping, ere night had -completely fallen, to reach some spot, whence he could go forward -alone on the following morning. But the people of the _auberge_ were -slow, and the guide, who was their acquaintance, still slower; -inasmuch as, finding himself in comfortable quarters, he had -predetermined to take up his abode there for the night. He looked out -towards the west, declared that the sun was lower than he had thought -for; looked out towards the south, and predicted a sharp storm. But -D'Aubin was neither of a disposition, nor in a mood, to be delayed at -any man's will and pleasure; and, in consequence, he urged such cogent -arguments in regard to the payment of his guide's services, that the -man did at length bestir himself, and the horses were brought to the -door. - -"How far is it to the little village of Neuville?" demanded D'Aubin, -after they had ridden on about a mile. - -"Four good leagues, Monseigneur," replied the man; "but before we -reach that, we come to the chateau of Armenēon, which has ever held -out stoutly for the king, and we are sure of a hearty welcome there, -should need be;" and as he spoke he looked up to that part of the sky -which rested, as it were, upon the edge of the high hilly bank forming -the southern boundary of the steep, narrow valley, or rather dell, up -which their road led on into the forest. D'Aubin turned his eyes in -the same direction, and beheld, what is very common in the valleys of -the Seine and the Eure during summer, large leaden masses of cloud, in -the shapes of rolling columns and sharp cones, rising up from behind -the hill, clear, defined, and harsh upon the sky, like the side-scenes -of a theatre. These are the invariable precursors of a thunder-storm; -but often they roll on for many hours, changing from one fantastic -shape to another, ere the fire within them breaks forth, and the -strife begins. The Count paid them no farther attention than was -evinced by slightly hurrying his pace. The track upon which he was now -entering was broken ground, forest, and hill; but still the road lay -on through the same dell, skirting the banks of a small stream which -fell at no great distance into the higher Eure. The uplands on either -side hid the sun, and afforded a shade which would have been pleasant -in that hot season, had not the closeness of the atmosphere, and the -want of the slightest wind, rendered the whole air equally oppressive. -The day rapidly declined as the travellers rode on, and the clouds -stretched wider overhead, while every now and then a faint, shifting, -electric light played between the detached masses, and showed that the -warfare of the elements was about to commence. D'Aubin was not a -little anxious now to hurry on; but ere he had accomplished more than -two leagues of the appointed way, night had fallen, and the storm had -begun. The lightning D'Aubin heeded but little, though his horse would -every now and then start and rear, as the bright glare gleamed across -the narrow road; but he knew the violent deluge of rain, in which -those storms generally end, would not be long ere it followed; and -feeling himself far more fatigued than he expected, he loved not the -thought of prolonging his journey under the outpouring of the watery -sky. They had now reached the summit of the hill: the trees afforded -but little shelter; and a few large drops began to patter upon the -leaves. "Ride on, my lord, ride on," cried the guide, who saw -D'Aubin's lately acquired strength beginning to flag; "the chateau of -Armenēon is not above a league off." - -"But I do not intend to stop till I reach Neuville," replied D'Aubin, -"Think you if we pause here under the shelter of some of the thickest -trees that the storm may not pass off?" - -"Not to-night, sir, not to-night," replied the man; "but why not stop -at Armenēon?" he continued with more eagerness, as the rain rapidly -increased: "they will show you all hospitality there; and if you be -just recovered from a sickness, as the _maītre d'hōtel_ told me, it -will kill you to ride on for two or three hours more in a night like -this." - -"Two or three hours!" exclaimed D'Aubin. "What! to travel three -leagues!" - -"Ay, sir," answered the man, "even so. We are not here as if we were -coursing a hare over the plains. We shall have to go up and down -twenty steep hills ere we reach Neuville; but we shall be at Armenēon -in three quarters of an hour." - -"But I do not choose to stop there," replied D'Aubin, hastily: and for -a moment or two the man paused without reply. The next instant, -however, he said in a respectful tone, "I guess how the matter is, -sir: you are one of Mayenne's friends, and if so, good faith! you are -right not to go near Armenēon. They shot the captain's brother in cold -blood, not long since, in Paris, and, by my soul, it would go hard -with any of the Leaguers if they were found within the chateau walls." - -"I had nothing to do with the death of his brother," said D'Aubin, -"but still I will not trust to an angry man. Tell me, however, my -friend, can I trust to _you?_" - -"On my life you may, sir," replied the guide; "and I would not take -you now into Armenēon for my right hand. But it is coming on to pour: -your cloak will soon be wet through; and hereabouts there should be a -hut where the wood-cutters live in the spring and autumn. That will -give better shelter than the trees; and most likely you may find a bed -of rushes, and some pine-wood to dry your cloak withal." - -"That were luck, indeed!" replied D'Aubin: "let us hasten on then, my -friend; and if you can meet with this hut, I will pay you for its -shelter better than ever _aubergiste_ was paid." - -The memory of the guide was exact; and their search was not long. The -hut was, indeed, but four walls, thatched with stubble and plastered -with mud; and the door, which was made of straw, interwoven with -boughs, was lying detached upon the ground: but it was soon replaced; -and the frequent flashes of lightning enabled them to discover the bed -of moss and rushes which the guide had expected, and a small store of -dried fragments of the resinous pine, which, lighted by a flint and -steel, soon shed some better light upon the interior than was afforded -by the fitful glare without. The interior was too small to admit the -horses also; but D'Aubin satisfied himself with placing his own beast -under a tree, and mentally saying, "He will do well enough," returned -to the shelter of the hut, cast off his dripping cloak, and seated -himself upon the pile of dried herbs. - -Still the storm continued, and still the incessant pattering of the -heavy rain bade the travellers be contented with the refuge they had -found. For awhile D'Aubin endeavoured to occupy his thoughts by asking -a number of questions of his guide, and listening to the long-winded -stories which the other, feeling the moments of inactivity as tedious -to his own restless and wandering nature as they were to the Count, -willingly poured forth for the sake of doing something. At length, -however, his stock exhausted itself; and an hour more passed in -silence and expectation; but the storm still went on. - -The guide's patience now gave way. "My Lord," he said, "you will be -starved here, if I can find you nothing to eat. You took neither bit -nor sup at the _auberge_, though you had ridden many a league; but -amongst the houses that lie under the chateau of Armenēon, I have a -cousin, and can, I doubt not, procure a piece of meat and a flask of -wine. I will say that it is for an old lady, whom I am guiding through -the wood, and who cannot come on for the storm." - -D'Aubin did feel exhausted, and in need of food; but still he -hesitated to let the man depart, for in those days acts of treachery -were not uncommon; and his life might depend upon his passing the -castle of Armenēon unobserved. The guide, however, insisted; and as -there was no means of staying him without showing suspicions, which -often produce the very evils they point at, the Count at length -suffered him to depart, and remained alone, determined to try whether -he could not sleep away the time while the peasant was absent. - -The attempt was vain; and, stretched upon the bed of moss where the -hard limbs of honest industry had enjoyed many a night of comfortable -repose, the gay and glittering Count d'Aubin strove in vain to banish -from his bosom the torment of thought. Memory rested on the past, and -conscience knew her hour, and seized it with relentless power. His -gone existence was spread out before him like a map; and the -upbraiding voice within proclaimed each stage of folly and of vice -through which he had proceeded, and still read its sad comment upon -every act, showing his gradual downfall from honour, wealth, -splendour, reputation, happiness, and love, by his own errors and -vanities. The long procrastinated examination was forced upon his -heart at length; and oh! with what minute agony the moral torturer -wracked forth the inmost secrets of his bosom, and then broke him upon -the wheel of despair. His fortune irreparably injured; he himself -bound by large debts to an unfeeling mercenary; the party which he had -joined against his conscience ruined and falling; his baffled schemes -holding him up to the laughter of his light companions; the woman -whose wealth was to have repaired the consequences of his own -extravagance flying him with horror, and avoiding him with success; -and the only woman whom he had ever really loved now regarding him -with what had once been affection, changed, by his own infamy, into -hatred and contempt. Such were the terrible matters on which reason, -and conscience, and remorse had to comment during his hours of -solitude; and, from the first moment that those thoughts arose, he -felt that it would be a madness to deem that he could sleep. The agony -of his mind affected his body too much even to suffer him to lie -still; and starting up, he sometimes paced the narrow limits of the -hut like a tiger in its cage, sometimes cast himself down in his fury, -and cursed the hour that he was born. He reproached, he reviled -himself for everything; and, in the torture that he felt when alone, -exclaimed, "Fool that I was to let the boor leave me! even he were -better than no one, in this gloomy, accursed place, with the lightning -flashing eternally in my eyes, and the melancholy rain pattering over -head." - -As he thus thought, the sound of horses' feet splashing through the -wet ground made itself heard in the intervals of the thunder, and the -moment after, D'Aubin could distinguish that there was more than one -traveller upon the road. A suspicion of his guide instantly crossed -his mind, and was immediately confirmed by hearing his voice exclaim, -"There, in that hut! You will find him there!" - -The Count loosened his dagger in the sheath; and partly drew his -sword, while, stepping back to the farther side of the hut, he watched -for the opening of the disjointed door. A moment or two elapsed, -during which D'Aubin could hear the stranger on the outside speaking -as if to his horse, while he tied him under a tree; and then the -matted screen was pushed back, and the diminutive figure of Bartholo, -the dwarf, stood before him. Without uttering a word, Bartholo -advanced towards the Count, and cast himself at his feet with a look -of imploring deprecation that D'Aubin did not understand. It was -explained in a moment, however. "My Lord," said the dwarf, earnestly, -"my Lord, I find that when last I saw you I deceived you; and, by the -counsel that I gave you, I have brought insult and disappointment upon -your head. My fault was involuntary; but I deserve to be punished; and -I have sought you myself; that you may wreak what vengeance upon me -you like." - -D'Aubin too well knew that to the counsels of his own perverse and -pampered heart he had listened more than to those of the dwarf; but he -was glad, nevertheless, to find any one on whom he could heap a part -of the blame; and while he snatched eagerly at the opportunity of -accusing another, he felt a degree of gratitude for the relief which -mitigated the bitterness of self-reproach. - -"Alas! alas! my poor Bartholo!" he said, "you did deceive me, indeed! -But I am willing to believe that you deceived me unwittingly; and I -seek not to punish one who wished to serve me, though he failed." - -"You are noble and generous ever, sir," replied the dwarf; "and though -she does not know the value of the heart she tramples on, others do, -and I will conceal it no longer. You little know, sir, how much art, -intrigue, and exertion were made use of to estrange from you a heart -that loved you, and rob you not only of your promised bride, but of -her affection." - -"How say you?" cried D'Aubin, eagerly. "Speak more clearly, good -Bartholo; I do not understand." - -"I know not whether I ought to speak more clearly or not," answered -the dwarf; "for although it is her pleasure and her pride to sport -with your love, and trample on you, yet it would wring her heart to -hear that, notwithstanding all her wiles, you had been successful with -her rival; and though to you she may appear but as a cold coquette, to -me, who have known her from her childhood, she has ever been a good -lady and a kind." - -"Bartholo!" cried D'Aubin, sternly, "you have in one thing -miscounselled me, and rendered me miserable. You but now professed a -wish to atone for that error; and I call upon you at once, to clear -away the obscurity which hangs over all these transactions in which I -have been engaged, and to let me see how I really stand between -Beatrice of Ferrara and Eugenie de Menancourt." - -"I will, sir! I will!" cried the dwarf, "let it cost me what it may. -But I must be quick, for the tale is intricate, and your guide, who -directed me hither, as I was following you to Armenēon, will soon be -back. Listen, then," he continued, while his face resumed all its -bitter cynicism. "Think you, my Lord, that a girl, all gentleness and -sweetness, like Mademoiselle de Menancourt, could in a moment be -converted into a being as stern and resolute as an old warrior, -without some very potent magic? Think you that she who once loved you -to all appearance as much as a young maiden ever ventures to show, -would all at once affect hate and detestation towards you without some -very mighty cause? Think you that a girl who knows nothing of the -world, and is as timid as a young deer, could alone find means to -cheat hard-judging Mayenne and keen Madame Montpensier, and pass a -blaspheming Huguenot soldier off for a Catholic priest, frustrate you -and all of them by a false marriage, and then effect her escape from a -beleaguered city, where a thousand eyes were upon her; and all this by -the simple exertion of her own courage, ingenuity, and daring? Pshaw! -One would think to hear it, and to hear that you and Mayenne believed -it, that the warriors and the politicians of this world were changed -into old women. My Lord! my Lord! Eugenie de Menancourt loved you, -loves you, will love you still; and only now weeps the perfidy which -my noble lady--thinking, as all women do, that everything is fair in -love--taught her to fancy that you had committed against her. Had not -Mademoiselle de Menancourt learned to think, from the first moment she -set her foot in Paris, that your whole heart and soul were given to -the Lady Beatrice, and that you sought her hand only on account of her -wealth, she would at once, on her father's death, have flown to your -arms for protection. But, day by day, and hour by hour, that idea has -been strengthened and confirmed in her mind by a voice whose eloquence -no one knows better than you and I. Another time I will point out how; -but at present you will trust me--for your wits are not darkened -enough to doubt so apparent a fact--when I tell you, that the carrying -off the priest, the false marriage, and the escape from Paris, are all -owing to the fertile brain and daring courage of Beatrice of Ferrara. -She it was who robbed you of your bride; and she it is who now -conceals her within three leagues of this place, weeping that Philip -d'Aubin is false, and resolving to enter a monastery as soon as she -hears of his marriage to another." - -"But St. Real!" exclaimed D'Aubin, "St. Real! I have more than -suspicions there." - -"Pshaw!" cried the dwarf; "she thinks not of him. He may love her, -perhaps, but she thinks not of him, but as a brave good-humoured lad, -with wit enough to lead a score or two of iron-pated soldiers. But, -once convince her that you love her, and that those who have told her -you loved another were interested deceivers, and you will soon find -the ice will melt, and all the coldness pass away. And now, my Lord, I -have told you all. I have given you the key to the mystery; and -though, God knows, there are few men in this world that can comprehend -clearly anything beyond a schoolboy's sum, done upon a broken slate, -yet the matter here is so simple you cannot well mistake. Now I must -leave you; for if I be not back ere morning dawn, and my lady -discovers my errand, I may chance to die by an earlier death than I -have calculated on." - -"But stay, stay yet a moment, good Bartholo," cried the count; "you -have not told me yet where I may find this fair lady. Think you my -marriage with her will touch your mistress so deeply then?" - -"That is what I fear, my Lord," replied the dwarf, assuming a look of -sorrow, "that is what I fear. I owed you atonement, sir; and I have -made it at the risk of mortifying all the proud feelings of a lady and -mistress that I love; for I know that she calculates upon seeing you -again at her feet, and pouring forth upon you more of her scorn and -indignation, before she leaves you for ever, and returns to Italy. She -was laughing over the scene with Annette just now." - -"It is a scene she shall never see!" said D'Aubin, biting his lip. -"But tell me where dwells this fair fugitive--this Mademoiselle de -Menancourt? She is, indeed, as beautiful a creature as the eye of man -ever yet beheld. One not difficult to love." - -"Oh no!" cried the dwarf; "where is the heart that would not be -envious of the man who wears a jewel such as that upon his hand. Her -dwelling, I have said, is not far off. You know the little stream that -separates the lands of Aubin from those of Menancourt. Trace it up to -its source amongst these hills, and not half a league from the spot -where it bubbles from its green fountain you will find two cottages, -in one of which is the object of your search. It is not like the -ordinary dwelling of a French peasant; for the Lady Beatrice has taken -a pleasure in decking forth her friend's home after the fashion of our -own land, where taste, and the love of all that is beautiful, descends -even to the lowest tillers of the soil." - -"I shall easily find it," replied the count; "and yon fair scornful -dame shall find that D'Aubin can seek him a mate as beautiful as -herself. Bartholo, I trust you--once more I trust you! but oh! if you -deceive in this also, look to your heart's blood; for I will find -means to punish you, should you hide in the farthest corner of the -globe." - -"My Lord, I deceive you not," replied the dwarf, "nor in this am I -myself deceived. But, I entreat, undertake no enterprise upon my -showing, without resolving to carry it through at all hazards. If you -would have the love of that fair creature you seek, spare no vows and -persuasions to efface from her mind the evil impression that others -have given of your conduct. Nor trust to that alone. Forget that the -marriage was null. Act upon it as if she were your wife, till you have -her safe in your own chateau; and then let the ceremony be performed -again. Neither must you seek her alone, and unattended by a sufficient -force to assert your right, should it be opposed. I know that five or -six of my lady's bravest followers are always watching near that spot; -and there may be more. Stir not a step, without fifty horseman at your -back. At all events, remember, my noble lord, that if you undertake -this enterprise without sufficient strength and resolution, the -failure must not be laid to me. As I hope for life and happiness, I -believe that you may be fully successful." - -"I am not apt to want in resolution, Bartholo," replied D'Aubin. -"Hence I shall speed to my own dwelling without a moment's loss of -time; but it may take long in the present state of affairs to collect -such a troop as fifty men." - -"Yet time is everything!" replied the dwarf. "'Tis more than likely -that changes may take place, of which I cannot inform you; and if the -lady be removed from her present refuge, our scheme is ruined. To be -bold and rapid is the best road to success, after all. Who can tell -what even to-morrow may bring forth?" - -"True!" answered D'Aubin; "and, if possible to-morrow's sun shall not -set ere Eugenie de Menancourt be mine. Then let your mistress and her -maids laugh over the scene of my supplications if they will! But I -must be guided by circumstances. At present my purse is but lean, my -good friend. Nevertheless----" - -"Speak not of it, sir! speak not of it!" replied the dwarf. "I came to -do what I have done, in order to make atonement for an involuntary -error towards one who was to me the most generous of masters; and who -never could accuse me of giving him false information before. I sought -not gold, and will not take it. But if you succeed, and if you be -happy, sometimes remember the poor dwarf when he is far away." - -Thus saying, he kissed the hand of his former lord, and departed, -drawing the matted door after him. The next moment D'Aubin heard his -horse's feet; and, again left alone, he once more cast himself upon -the bed of moss, and gave himself up to thought. His feelings, -however, were now very different from what they had been an hour -before. Although, as we have before shown, the idea of wedding Eugenie -de Menancourt, repairing his wasted fortune by her wealth, and -triumphing proudly over her who had scorned and rejected him, and made -him the common jest of Paris, had never quitted his mind, even while -yielding willingly to his passionate love for Beatrice of Ferrara; yet -the repulse he had met with, from a being on whose love and compliance -he had counted with full confidence, the bitter scorn that she had -displayed towards him, and the keen disappointment that her rejection -inflicted, had, in spite of all the Titan-like struggles of pride, so -abased and overwhelmed him, that he had lost courage, and looked with -hopeless eyes upon all the daring schemes on which, at other times, he -would have entered so boldly. The words of the dwarf, however, had -revived him, not alone by showing him the easy means of accomplishing -one part of his purpose, but by pointing out a new end to be obtained, -a new object of desire, and that, too, of a nature to give the only -alleviation which his heart was capable of receiving in the pain he -suffered--the alleviation of revenge. He felt that Beatrice was -already unhappy; that his conduct was--must be--a source of misery to -her; but that feeling, far from making him pity her, roused up his -suffering vanity to strive for means of avenging upon her the insult -which her purity had offered to his baseness. The dwarf had pointed -out the way; and to dream of wringing her heart by his marriage with -Eugenie, while he silenced for ever the stinging laughter of his -former companions, was a relief--perhaps a pleasure. At the same time, -a thought crossed his mind that the tale of his having dwelt many -weeks concealed in the dwelling of Beatrice of Ferrara, joined to his -reputation for gallantry, might, perchance, leave her proud reputation -for virtue somewhat sullied; and, as he thought thus, a smile, -mingling vanity and pride and vengeance altogether, passed over his -lip, and gave his fine features the expression of a demon; and yet -this was the bright and fascinating Count d'Aubin: whom we have seen -so full of light and harmless gaiety in the beginning of this volume, -and such was the creature he had, step by step, become. - -Before the visit of the dwarf he had tried to sleep in vain; but now -he felt the gnawing pain at his heart relieved by a new purpose; and, -after the return of his guide with wine and meat, he ate and drank, -though sparingly, and then, casting himself down once more, slept -undisturbed till morning dawned. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -Leaving the Count d'Aubin to pursue his schemes to their conclusion, -we must now follow Bartholo home to the chateau of Guery. Few were the -friends which the page possessed amongst the servants of his mistress; -but in that number was the old warder at the gate, who, warned -beforehand of the dwarfs absence, hastened to give him admittance -without noise on his return. Bartholo stabled his horse and rubbed him -down with his own small hands, and then, entering by a side-door, -passed through the great hall, which was lighted by one of the large -paper globes of the time--not at all unlike a Chinese lantern--and -picking his steps through the midst of the straw mattresses upon -which, as was then customary, several of the inferior servants were -sleeping, he made his way towards a staircase leading to the room -which had been appropriated to himself during the illness of the Count -d'Aubin, and he had now resumed. Opening the door, he entered, -congratulating himself upon not having been seen, when suddenly he was -seized on either side, and held fast to prevent him from using his -dagger, while some one at the farther end of the chamber drew a screen -from before a concealed lamp, and Bartholo found himself in the hands -of the major-domo and two stout grooms, who, with little compassion -and less ceremony, proceeded to bind him tightly hand and foot. - -The dwarf asked not a question, and said not a word; and the old -_maītre d'hōtel_, though loving him but little, refrained from any -expression of triumph, merely directing the grooms to watch him well -and not molest him, and then left him for the night. Early the next -morning the cords were slackened upon his ankles, and he was brought -into the presence of his mistress, whose quivering lip and flashing -eye told how much her anger was roused against him. - -"Bartholo, you have deceived me!" she said; "you have basely deceived -me!" - -"Those who suspect without cause," answered the dwarf, doggedly, "will -always be deceived in the end, and will deserve it." - -"And do you think me so weak a being," asked Beatrice, sternly, "as to -believe that he who could practise the piece of knavery which you -executed last night is innocent of foregone deceits? No, poor fool, -no! and even were it not that--as is ever the case with favourites in -disgrace--the whole household is pouring forth tales of thy former -treason now that it no longer avails me to know it, I should still -feel as certain of your guilt as I am of living and breathing, and -should only daily look for the instances of your knavery. I seek not, -man, to make you own either your former or your present baseness; all -I seek to know is your motive. Tell me, were you bribed to divulge my -secrets and thwart my plans? Were you hired to betray the mistress -that trusted and befriended you?" - -"No man does anything without the hope of recompense," replied the -dwarf, "nor woman either." - -"I should have thought," answered Beatrice, in a tone of bitter but -sorrowful reproach, "that no recompense would have been sufficient to -bribe you to sting the hand which cherished you when all the rest of -the world either scorned or forgot you." - -"You mistake me, noble lady," said the dwarf, "I see you mistake me. -There are men and women both that sell their honour for gold; but I am -not of them. There are still more, both men and women, that pawn their -virtue for less solid payment, ay, and sell even their souls for -vanity; but still no bauble was my bribe. It was neither title given -by some profligate king, nor words of flattery spoken by some vicious -lover. I had--I own it--a motive before my eyes, a recompense to look -forward to; but I choose not to speak it before these gaping fools. -Should I ever again have your ear alone, to it I may tell the cause of -all that is strange in my behaviour--if aught be strange in the -actions of man. But till then I am silent." - -"Leave me!" said Beatrice, looking towards her attendants, "retire to -the ante-room--no farther!" Her commands were instantly obeyed; but -still there was many an ear eager for the sounds of what passed -farther; and those who dared, advanced close to the door, which was -not entirely closed. The dwarf's voice was heard speaking quick and -long, but in tones so low, that the eavesdroppers were all at fault. -At length, however, the voice of Beatrice exclaimed, "Madman! dared -you to entertain such a hope?" - -"I entertained no hope," replied the dwarf, aloud--"I entertained no -hope, but that I might never behold you in the arms of another!" - -"Here, Joachim, Annette!" cried the voice of Beatrice, and in a moment -the room where she sat was again crowded with her attendants. They -found her with the eloquent blood glowing in deep crimson through her -clear fine skin, and dying her brow and temples and neck with a blush -almost painful to behold. "Take him hence!" she cried, pointing to the -dwarf with a look of irrepressible disgust, which, as his eye marked -it, turned him deadly pale. "Take him hence!--and yet stay," she -added, addressing him--"I suppose it is vain to question you as to -what you told to him whom you went last night to visit." - -A change had come over the appearance of the dwarf, which it were -difficult to describe. The paleness that had followed Beatrice's last -words remained--even his lips were blanched; and though with his white -upper teeth he bit the under lip unconsciously, no mark appeared -after, so bloodless was his whole countenance. He replied, however, -with a voice of unnatural calmness, "It is not in vain, madam, to ask -me anything you seek to know. Life is over with me,--at least, life's -hopes and fears; and I may as well tell you all, as conceal anything. -The moment that what I have dared to do was discovered, that moment I -knew that the game was lost; and it is in vain now to play a few moves -more or less." - -He then, as shortly as possible, repeated the substance of what had -passed between D'Aubin and himself, in regard to Eugenie de -Menancourt's abode, and the means of securing her person, and that -concluded, calmly suffered himself to be led back to the room where he -had passed the night, and where he was now left alone. - -In the meantime, Beatrice, with a hasty hand, wrote a few words on -several sheets of paper, and ordering horses to be saddled instantly, -gave the letters to the servants who were first prepared. "This to La -Loupe," she said, giving one, "for the captain of the arquebusiers; -and bid him mark within the king's own hand to the command. This to -the chatelain of Armenēon. Tell him, if he cannot spare many, to send, -if it be but twenty men, well armed end mounted. This to the Lady -Eugenie, with all speed! Away, away! This purse to him who does his -errand soonest. Now, Joachim, now! you gather together all the men -that we have here, and all that are in the neighbouring town; arm them -to the teeth, and make speed! Tell me when all is ready, and lose no -time!--Away! for we must endeavour to be first on the spot, and carry -off that poor timid dove from her dovecot, ere the kite pounces upon -her. If we are too late to save her from danger, we must do our best -to rescue her, whatever befall." - -Beatrice's orders were as rapidly obeyed as given; but we must deviate -a little from our general plan, and quitting the persons with whom we -have begun this chapter, turn once more to the efforts of the Count -d'Aubin; efforts which were unfortunately but too successful. The sun -had not risen half an hour ere D'Aubin was again in the saddle; and -though his horse was somewhat stiff from having passed a night in the -open air, in the midst of storm and tempest, the Count urged him on at -full speed, and never drew a rein till he was within sight of his own -paternal home. - -There are feelings touched by the view of such a place, so interwoven -with all the texture of our being, that even the coarse hand of vice, -or the more cunning touch of worldly-mindedness, can hardly tear them -out; but it was not any such emotions that caused D'Aubin to stop and -gaze round him as he approached the dwelling of his fathers. It was -that, in a field close to the chateau, he beheld a man, dressed in the -costume of a German soldier, sauntering idly about, and talking to -some women who were weeding the ground. An undefined apprehension of -danger made him pause; but the next moment he spurred his horse -furiously on, and rode into the court-yard. It was filled with -reitters, who were sitting round in various attitudes, eating their -morning meal in the early sunshine. The apparition of a single -horseman, for the guide was some furlongs behind, did not seem to -disturb in the slightest degree their German phlegm; and D'Aubin was -suffered to cast his rein over a hook, and push open the great door of -the hall without one of the troopers ceasing from his pleasant -occupation, to ask the business of the intruder. The first object the -Count beheld in the hall was one of his own servants; but the next, -which rendered all question unnecessary, was a large breakfast-table, -covered with loads of meat and flagons of wine, at which sat Albert of -Wolfstrom, and one or two of the officers of his troop. The apparition -of D'Aubin was certainly unexpected, for the party of the League -believed him dead; but it required no lengthened explanations to make -him comprehend that his friend, the captain of the reitters, had -hastened with as many of his men as had escaped the bloody fight of -Ivry to take possession of the lands and chateau of Aubin, in order to -pay himself some certain thousands of crowns, won by him at play, ere -the next heir of the supposed dead count put in his claim, either by -the sword or otherwise. - -As he was well aware that no party would permit of his holding long -possession of the lands, the mercenary leader had employed means to -raise the sum he claimed, which now caused some sharp and angry words -to pass between him and the count,--words which might not have ended -bloodless had D'Aubin at the moment been prepared to expel the Germans -from his dwelling: but his own retainers and domestics were dispersed; -and not above two or three of his old attendants were to be found -within the walls of the chateau. The thought of his fine old trees -felled to supply the greedy craving of the mercenary, his crops and -cattle swept away, his peasantry half ruined, did enrage him almost to -striking Wolfstrom where he stood; but in the midst of his anger he -remembered that there was but one way to clear off this and many -another similar claim upon him, and to emerge into greater splendour -and power than ever; and in that dim and misty dream of splendour and -power he fancied that the voice of conscience, and remorse, and -disappointed love, would never be heard. - -"Well, well, Wolfstrom," he added, abruptly breaking off the angry -vituperation he was heaping upon the chief of the reitters, "you might -have waited a little longer; you might have proceeded a little more -moderately; but now send out and order all to be stopped instantly, -then lend me your full and active aid for this one day, and you shall -receive every farthing in gold before a week be over." - -"Ay, indeed! how so?" demanded the other, somewhat doubtingly; for -Albert of Wolfstrom had nothing very confiding in his disposition. "As -to waiting, you know, sir count, that was out of the question -entirely, for we thought you dead; and as to proceeding more -moderately, you know I was obliged to make haste, for on the one hand -Mayenne might call me to Paris in a day, at any time; and on the -other, the Bearnois and your cousin might come down and turn me out; -so that I was obliged to make good use of my time. But how can I serve -you?" - -"How many men have you here?" demanded D'Aubin. - -"Why, not many, on my life," answered Wolfstrom; "only a hundred and -fifty. All the rest were killed or taken at that cursed Ivry. But what -do you want us to do?" - -"Listen!" said D'Aubin. "I last night learned, Wolfstrom, that by a -foul scheme my promised bride was persuaded that I did not love her, -and that it was thus she was induced to fly immediately after our -marriage." - -"But do you know, Monsieur d'Aubin," interrupted Wolfstrom, "that the -good folks in Paris vow, that marriage of yours was no marriage at -all; that the priest was a mad Huguenot soldier, and that----" - -"Never mind all that," replied D'Aubin, "I have here a priest in the -neighbouring village who has done me some services already, and he -will bind me in half an hour to Eugenie de Menancourt by a knot that -can never be untied, without asking any questions or listening to any -objections. Only let me once have her safe within these walls!" - -"Ay, but how is that to be done?" demanded Albert of Wolfstrom. - -"That is what I was about to tell you," answered the count. "The same -person who informed me of the means which had been used to estrange -her affection from me, informed me also of the place of her present -dwelling. It is within six leagues of this castle, and all that is -necessary in the present case is----" - -"To carry her off by a _coup de main!_" cried Wolfstrom, clapping his -hands at the sound of a project which combined, in a degree peculiarly -adapted to his palate, villany and adventure. "Bravo, sir count I -bravo! Let us about it immediately." - -"Thanks, thanks, Wolfstrom, for your ready aid," replied D'Aubin. "All -that we have to do is to mount fifty men, and to lose no time; the -first, because the girl has some guards stationed round about her, and -more may be sent; the second, because the keenest eye in France is -upon her and me, and she may be removed." - -"Well, well, to it at once," cried Wolfstrom, moving towards the door; -but ere he reached it he stopped, and, turning to the count said, in a -low tone, "Of course you will give my men a day's pay." - -"And you a thousand crowns to boot, if we succeed," answered the -Count, who knew that there was nothing comparable to gold for -quickening his comrade's energies. - -"We had better take a hundred men at once," said Wolfstrom, when he -heard that they were to be paid; "they are as soon mounted as fifty, -and we are then more sure. Fifty can stay to guard the chateau." - -D'Aubin made no objection, and Wolfstrom proceeded to give his orders, -which were rapidly obeyed by the well-trained veterans still under his -command. A fresh horse was provided for D'Aubin, and another for the -guide, who, without his consent being asked, was ordered to lead the -way, with a trooper on either side, to the spot which D'Aubin -described. Two old but nimble jennets from the stable of the Count -were led in the rear; and thus the cavalcade issued from the gates of -the chateau of Aubin, and took their way towards the dwelling of the -unfortunate Eugenie de Menancourt. Scarcely had they proceeded a -league, however, when, from the edge of a gentle slope, they perceived -three horsemen galloping quickly on a road in the plain below, as if -towards the castle they had just left. - -The keen eyes of Wolfstrom instantly marked them; but, after gazing at -them for a moment, he said, "They are two of my reitters whom I sent -yesterday to keep a watch on Armenēon; but they have a third man with -them, and must bring news. We must take care that our retreat is not -cut off." Thus saying, he detached a trooper to intercept the horsemen -by a cross road, and bring them to him, and then halted till they -arrived. Two proved, as had been supposed, ordinary reitters of -Wolfstrom's band, but the third horseman was an armed servant; and -D'Aubin instantly recognised one of the attendants of Beatrice of -Ferrara. He was tied upon his horse, and the troopers brought him up -pistol in hand. Their report was soon made; they had found him -galloping, they said, with such speed towards the castle of Armenēon -that they thought it right to stop him. He fled like the wind, and -they pursued; but at length he was overtaken, and they found upon him -a letter, which, not being able to read themselves, they were now in -the act of conveying to their leader. The paper, as may be already -seen, was the letter of Beatrice of Ferrara to the chatelain of -Armenēon, and it served to show D'Aubin that his movements were -suspected, if not discovered. The servant, however, was now in such -bodily fear, that he at once informed the Count and his companion, -that another messenger had been sent for troops to La Loupe. - -"What force have they there, Wolfstrom?" demanded D'Aubin. "Do you -know?" - -"Certainly not two hundred men!" replied the leader of the reitters. - -"Then there is, first, the probability that the commander will not -listen to the request of this wild girl," said the Count; "next, he -will certainly not dare to detach more than fifty men, and we are here -a hundred. Even if she send her own armed people, too, they cannot -amount to more than thirty, so that we shall still have great odds. -But let me see," he continued, as if a sudden thought struck him, and -turning to the servant, he asked, "When did the messenger leave Guery -for La Loupe?" - -"At the same moment that I left for Armenēon," replied the man. - -"Then," said D'Aubin, "we shall be there full four good hours before a -soldier from La Loupe can be within a league. Let that fellow go, -Wolfstrom. You, my good man, ride back with all speed to your -mistress, present the Count d'Aubin's humble duty to her, and tell her -he is her most devoted slave! Do you hear? There is a piece of gold -for you--away!" - -The man seemed doubtful if his ears heard true; but at length -convinced, he took the gold, cap in hand, and rode slowly away. In the -meantime, D'Aubin and Wolfstrom again put the troop in motion; and -riding briskly on, calculated once more between them the distance from -Guery to La Loupe, and from La Loupe to the spot whither their steps -were now directed. D'Aubin was found not to have judged amiss; for -even supposing the troops mounted and the captain willing, it appeared -that the reitters must arrive at least four hours before them. "When -we come up," said D'Aubin, as they concluded, "let your men surround -the house, at such a distance as not to be seen; yourself and five or -six others come nearer, so as to be within call; and, after -ascertaining that there is no force actually present to oppose us, I -will go on and plead my cause myself. It were better to persuade her -gently, and without frightening her, if possible; but if I find her -still obstinate, we must use a little gentle compulsion: for I am -resolved," he added, with a smile of triumph, "that by the time the -troops from La Loupe reach her late refuge, Eugenie de Menancourt -shall be in the chateau of Aubin; ay, and irretrievably the wife of -its lord!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -What was once a poor farm-house, in a woody and remote part of the -hills in which the Eure and Loire take their rise, had, under the -touch of taste and affluence, been transformed into a beautiful little -habitation, half rustic cottage, half Italian villa; and all this had -been done as easily as the genii built the palace of Aladdin. The -wood-work had been painted green, so that the heavy planks which, when -shut, closed the windows, looked light; the thatch had been nicely -clipped and trimmed; the inside had been hung with arras, and -decorated with paintings in the fashion of the day; and along the -front had been carried a portico, consisting of unpolished trunks of -trees for columns, and a light trellis-work of boughs to soften the -strong sunshine. The face of the house was turned towards the south; -and it might have commanded, from its elevated situation, a beautiful -view over the greater part of Maine, had the tall old trees which -screened it in front been partially cut away: but those in whose -possession it now was had carefully abstained from the axe; not alone -from reverence for the ancient trees, but because quiet concealment -was with them a great object of desire. No place, in truth, could have -been better chosen for that purpose. There was, indeed, one horse -road, which came within a few hundred yards of the house, but it went -no farther than to a small isolated village not more than a league -distant, and there ended. Another, passing a little farther off, led -away to the chateau of Guery, at the distance of three leagues on one -side, and to the small town of ---- on the other; but even this was -merely a bridle path, upon which there was scarcely any traffic in the -best of times, and much less now that civil war had stilled all -commercial spirit in the land. - -It was in the little portico, then, which we have noticed, that on the -evening of a warm clear day in June, occasionally shaded by the masses -of a broken thunder-cloud, which, during the night, had poured forth a -tempest on the earth, sat the fair Eugenie de Menancourt, into whose -cheek the warm glow of health and youth had returned, during a long -interval of peace and tranquillity. Hither, after many wanderings, had -she been brought by Beatrice of Ferrara, as soon as it was known that -the Count d'Aubin was no longer in the neighbourhood; and in order to -be sufficiently near her, to give her every sort of aid and -protection, without calling further attention upon her retreat by -living with her, the fair Italian had retired to the chateau of Guery -which she possessed in the neighbourhood. The time had, as we have -seen, passed without bringing molestation to Eugenie; and she now sat -with an open letter in her hand, gazing out upon the woodland scene -before her eyes, and seeing those mixed visions of romance, and -tenderness, and melancholy which are so often present to a woman's -eyes, and are the more dear, because she is taught to hide that she -beholds them. Before her were those dark old trees; on her right a -thicket of shrubs of many a varied kind; behind her the room in which -she was wont to sit--then called her bower, and on the left, some -fields screened again from the road by other trees. It was a calm -sweet scene; and Eugenie felt not unhappy, though there might be other -things she would have fain brought in, to form her picture of perfect -felicity, and although the letter which she held in her hand from -Beatrice of Ferrara, by telling her not to be alarmed at anything that -might happen, for that friends were near, had, in some degree, created -the apprehension is was intended to relieve. - -As she sat thus and gazed, she thought she heard the tramp of horse; -but the sound, if sound there were, ceased, and she believed that her -ears had deceived her. A moment or two after, a long ray of sunshine -that found its way between the bolls of the trees, and spread a pencil -of light upon the green turf at her feet, was for an instant obscured, -as if either a cloud had come over the sun, or some dark object had -passed among the trees. Eugenie's heart began to beat quick, and the -next minute a rustling sound in the thicket to her right made her -start up; but ere she could retreat into her own chamber, the boughs -were pushed back, and Philip d'Aubin was at her feet. With a face as -pale as death, Eugenie sank into the seat that she had before -occupied, and gazed with eyes expressive certainly of anything but -love, upon the Count as he knelt before her, and pressed her hand to -his lips. - -"Eugenie!" said D'Aubin, "Eugenie! I have at length found you, then. -My Eugenie! my wife!" - -"Oh, no, no!" cried Eugenie, struggling to overcome her terror: "oh, -no! not your wife! No, sir, I am not; I never have been; I never will -be your wife! Death were preferable--ay, the most terrible death were -preferable to that!" - -"Hear me, Eugenie!" said D'Aubin. "Eugenie, you must hear me! for this -house is surrounded by my soldiers; you are utterly and perfectly in -my power; and if I have recourse to reason and persuasion with you, it -is alone from tenderness and affection towards you, and because I -would rather induce my bride to accompany me willingly and tranquilly, -than use towards her those means of compulsion which I have a right to -exercise in regard to a disobedient wife. Eugenie, will you hear me?" - -"I have no resource, Sir," replied the unhappy girl; "but still I -repeat that I am not your wife. In the first place, I have at the -altar refused to pledge a vow towards you; and by this time you must -well know that the man who read the vain and empty ceremony which you -are pleased to call a marriage was not one invested with that sacred -function which is requisite to render a marriage legal, even with the -willing consent of both parties." - -"All I know is, that the marriage ceremony was performed between us," -replied D'Aubin, "and that it is registered in the archives of Paris. -That you are my wife, therefore, there is no doubt; and that I have -the right, as well as the power and the will, to take you home and -regard you as my wife, is equally indubitable. Still if you require -it, the ceremony shall be performed again; but hope not any longer to -avoid taking upon you the duties of the position you hold in regard to -me, for, as I told you, I have a hundred men within call ready to obey -my lightest word! Shall I make them appear?" - -"Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Eugenie, wringing her hands. "What, what -shall I do?" - -"Merely listen to me, Eugenie, my beloved!" cried D'Aubin. "With the -power to compel, a thousand times rather would I succeed by entreaty; -and instead of seeking to command you, let me at your feet seek to -persuade you. Hear me plead my cause, Eugenie, in language that you -have never heard me use before, because I was ignorant of the motives -which actuated you, and attributed your conduct towards me to mere -caprice, whereas I now know it to have been just, excellent, and wise, -and like yourself. The same ignorance has made me harsh to you, and -unjust towards my cousin St. Real; and I will not rise from my knee -till you have heard my exculpation, and fully know how much we have -all been deceived." - -"Indeed!" said Eugenie, "indeed! yet I am at a loss to guess what you -can mean." - -"Well may you be so, Eugenie!" replied D'Aubin; "well may you be so! -For it was only yesterday that I learned the elucidation of the -mystery myself. You have been cheated, Eugenie; you have been -deceived; you have been taught to believe a man who loved you, and you -alone, a heartless profligate. But first hear me, Eugenie, when I -declare that I have never loved any one but you; that from the first -moment your hand was promised me by your father, the idea of your -young charms has ever been present to my mind, and the hope of soon -possessing them been the consolation of my whole existence." - -Eugenie coloured deeply: "I am grieved, sir," she replied; but D'Aubin -interrupted, saying,-- - -"Hear me, Eugenie, to the end: I have but given you a picture of my -own feelings towards you. Now let me display all the base and crooked -means that have been taken to alienate your affection from me, and -then tell me if it be right and just to let those means still have -effect, when you are convinced of their falsehood and iniquity. Only -yesterday did I discover that at Paris you had become acquainted with -one of the late Queen Catherine's train of ladies--a train which, I -need not tell you, was and will remain marked with infamy to the eyes -of all posterity!" - -"Perhaps so!" cried Eugenie eagerly; "but the name of Beatrice of -Ferrara will always be excepted. The daughter of a sovereign prince, -she was always as distinguished by her virtues as by her rank; and my -father on his death-bed told me that I might always confide in her, -for that, in the midst of the terrible trial of universal bad example, -no one had ever been able to cast a reproach upon her fame." - -"It may be so!" replied D'Aubin; "it may be so! but doubt not, -Eugenie, that she has passions and weaknesses too; and the confidence -you gave her was misplaced. All has been revealed to me. I know -everything that has passed, and therefore I am justified in saying -that she has made us both her tools. Did she not tell you that I loved -her--that I had vowed vows and made protestations at her feet? I know -she did. I know that both by open words, and slight insinuations, she -poisoned your mind against me; that she taught you to believe me -profligate and base--" - -"Never! never!" cried Eugenie, "never, upon my word." - -"No matter," cried D'Aubin, "she made you credit that I loved her, not -you; that by vows and promises I was bound to her. She it was that -always crossed me in your esteem; she frustrated the arrangements for -our marriage; she laid the scheme, and executed the whole of your -flight from Paris. Is not this true? and do you think she had not a -motive? Eugenie, I tell you she had. It may make me appear vain in -your eyes; but, to exculpate myself, I must reveal that motive. -Eugenie, she has loved me from our first meeting; she has loved me -with all the ardour and all the fire of which an Italian is capable; -but so to love unsought, is never to win love. She has teased me; she -has persecuted me with her affection. But do not mistake me, Eugenie; -I have never loved but you--you alone have I sought, you alone have I -sighed for. To her I have turned a deaf ear and a cold heart. I care -not for her, I love her not, I have never loved--ay! and though I -scruple not to say that, no later than yesterday, I might have made -her mine on any terms I chose--" - -There was a slight rustle in the room behind--a quick step; and -Beatrice of Ferrara stood by the side of Eugenie de Menancourt. -D'Aubin started up from his knee. "Liar! traitor! villain!" cried the -beautiful girl, with eyes from which mighty indignation lightened -forth like fire bursting from a volcano;--"Liar! traitor! villain!" -and as he rose, she struck him what seemed but a slight stroke upon -the bosom with the quickness of light. D'Aubin grasped his sword, then -let it go, and raised his hand to his eyes; a stream of dark gore -spouted out from his breast; he reeled, and murmuring "Jesu, Jesu!" -fell at the feet of her he had so basely injured. - -Still holding the dagger tight in her grasp, Beatrice stood and gazed -upon him; and Eugenie too, with her hands clasped, and turned as it -were into stone by fear and horror, remained straining her eyes upon -the fearful sight before her. - -At that moment, the furious galloping of horse was heard along the -nearest road, then came the clashing of steel and pistol shots; and -Joachim, the servant of Beatrice, glided from the room whence his -mistress had issued, and drawing her by the sleeve, exclaimed--"There -seems a large force coming up, madam! save yourself, ere this be -inquired into. The horses are still where we left them, at the end of -the lane." - -But Beatrice, without reply, continued to gaze upon the corpse of him -she once so passionately loved, apparently unconscious of aught else -but the terrible act she had performed. The next moment, the voices of -several persons approaching were heard; and through the trees appeared -two gentlemen on foot, followed by half a dozen soldiers dragging -along Albert of Wolfstrom, with his hands tied. - -"We are in time, fair lady, to do your behest," cried Henry IV. who -was at the head of the party, speaking in a joyous tone, as, as the -distance of the trees he caught a sight of Beatrice without seeing the -object at which she gazed. "Your letter reached me, as I marched -along, and though addressed to my _locum tenens_ at La Loupe, I made -bold to break the seal. But where is this perverse and rebellious -Count d'Aubin?" - -"There!" cried Beatrice, in a voice which had lost all its music. -"There he lies! never to be perverse or rebellious again! Oh, Philip, -Philip! thou hast trod upon a heart that loved thee--cast happiness -from thee--sought destruction--and found it from a woman's hand!" - -"Indeed!" cried the king, hastening forward with St. Real, who was his -companion. "In God's name, what is all this? Pardie, 'tis too true! -There he lies, indeed!" The king's eye then glanced to Beatrice, while -St. Real gently led Eugenie away from the scene of blood and horror in -which she had been made an unwilling sharer. The dagger was still in -the hand of the fair Italian, though that hand now hung by her side as -if it had never possessed power to strike the blow which had laid such -strength and courage low; but her sleeve was dyed with blood; and a -slow red drop trickled down the shining blade of the poniard, and fell -from the point to the ground. - -"From your own speech, lady!" said the king, after a momentary pause, -"I learn that you have just committed an awful act, especially for a -woman's hand. Nevertheless, I cannot but believe, from all that I have -heard, that this was an act of justice! He was a rebel, too, at the -moment of his death, in arms against his king; and, therefore, this -deed is not to be too strictly investigated; otherwise--although as -the head of a sovereign house you are armoured with immunities--it -would become me to refer the inquiry to my council. As it is, Philip -Count d'Aubin having been slain in arms against his monarch, in the -commission of an illegal act, and by your hand, of course justice -withholds her sword from avenging his death, yet I think that it is -expedient for you, lady, to quit this realm with all convenient speed; -and to insure your safety, a party of my own guard shall accompany you -to the frontier. My words seem to fall upon an inattentive ear! May I -ask if you have heard me?" - -"Yes, yes," replied Beatrice; "I have heard, my lord--your majesty is -lenient! My crime is great; but be it as you will, I am ready to go! -My thoughts, to speak the truth, are not so clear as they might have -been some half hour since--I thank your majesty! All I ask is a -prisoner's diet, bread and a glass of water,--for I am thirsty, -exceeding thirsty! Then I am ready to set out.--Philip, farewell!" she -added, gazing upon the corpse: "we shall meet again! Our deeds unite -us for ever! Alas! alas! where shall I go, my lord?" - -"Her brain is troubled," said the king, in a low tone, turning to one -of the officers who followed; "go in with her, call her own people -about her; but treat her with all reverence. She must be sent forth -from the kingdom as speedily as possible. Madam, this officer will -conduct you. Set a sentinel at the door," he added, in a low tone, "as -if for honour; but let her people be with her, and lay no restraint -upon her, except in watching whither she goes." - -"Will no one give me a glass of water?" said Beatrice, moving towards -the house. - -"It shall be brought in a moment, lady," replied the officer, -following. "Where are this lady's attendants?" - -"Well, St. Real," said the king, turning to the young cavalier as he -issued forth again from the house just as Beatrice entered. "Pardie, -we are too late in one sense, after all, though not too late to -prevent the mischief these fellows meditated. Ventre Saint Gris! but -this cousin of yours was an ungenerous villain; and I am sorry for -that poor girl, who, to my thinking, has driven the dagger deeper into -her own heart than into his. Well, there he lies, and one of the -conspirators against our fair heiress of Menancourt is disposed of; -now to despatch the other. Martin, bring forward the prisoner." - -"Sir Albert of Wolfstrom," continued the king, "it seems to me that -your name was once enrolled amongst the troops of my late cousin, -Henry III. and that you chose the chance of a halter and better pay on -the part of the League. Traitors against myself, God help me, I am -fain to forgive, leaving them to God and their consciences for -punishment; but traitors to the late king I forgive not, and, -therefore, I shall turn over your case to my good friend De Biron, who -is not merciful, but just. Your own heart, therefore, will tell your -fate: if it condemn you, be sure that ere to-morrow's noon you will be -lying like him you stare at with such open eyes." - -"Cannot I take service with my troop?" demanded Wolfstrom, with -undaunted effrontery. "Your majesty suffered the Swiss at Ivry to come -over to you." - -"They were only enemies, not traitors," replied the king; "I can have -traitors enow without paying them, sirrah!--What is that outcry -within, St. Real? No more tragedies, I trust!--What I have said, Sir, -is decided," continued Henry, again turning to Wolfstrom, while St. -Real entered the house to ascertain the cause of the sounds of -lamentation that they heard. "If your conscience tell you that you -deserted the late king, bid good-by to the world! By my faith there -must be something the matter there!" he added, as the tones of grief -came again from within; and turning hastily, he himself entered the -house, and advanced to a room from the open door of which the sound -proceeded. The sight that presented itself needed little explanation. -In a large chair, near the centre of the room, sat Beatrice of -Ferrara, with her head supported upon the breast of her faithful old -servant Joachim, while kneeling at her feet, and weeping bitterly as -she clasped her friend's knees, was the beautiful form of Eugenie de -Menancourt. Around were a number of female attendants, filling the air -with lamentations; and on one side stood St. Real, gazing eagerly in -the face of the fair Italian. But that lovely face had now lost the -loveliness of life, the bright dark eyes were closed, the colour of -the warm rose no longer blushed through the clear white skin, the lips -themselves were pale, and the dazzling teeth showed like a row of -pearls, as the mouth hung partly open. Her right hand was still -clasped upon a glass from which she had been drinking; and rolled away -upon the floor was a rich carved _bon-bonničre_, from which a small -quantity of white powder had been spilt as it fell. Throughout the -whole room there was a faint odour, as if of bitter almonds; and -Henry, who well remembered that same perfume, when some of the noblest -in France had died somewhat suddenly, exclaimed at once as he entered, -"She has poisoned herself!" - -"Too true, I fear, my lord!" replied St. Real; "but a leech has been -sent for." - -"In vain! in vain!" said the king. "She is dead already, St. Real! -That is no fainting fit; and even were she not dead already, no skill -on earth could save her from the tomb. I know that hateful drug too -well. Come away, St. Real! Mademoiselle de Menancourt, come away! Nay, -I command! You do no good here!" - -Thus saying, Henry took the fair girl's hand and led her to another -room, where, after speaking a few words of comfort, he added, "But I -must to horse again and forward towards Le Mans. You, St. Real, I -shall leave behind with your regiment, for the protection of this one -fair lady, though those that persecuted her are no more. His body -shall be carried to his own dwelling, and lie beside his father's. -That I will see to. And now, though this is a solemn moment, and the -scene a sad one, yet Mademoiselle de Menancourt, I must put it out of -fortune's power to persecute you farther, for the treasure of this -fair hand. Nay, nay, I must have my will!--Take it, St. Real," he -added, placing it in his. "If I judge right, you value it highly; and, -as you well deserve it, I give it to you now, lest any of my many -friends should crave me for the gift hereafter. I would rather say to -those who ask it that it is given, than that I will not give it. To -your love and sorrow, lady, I leave the last rites of yon beautiful -and hapless girl. Hers was a hard fate, and a noble mind; for, cast by -fortune into the midst of corruption, with a heart all warmth and a -fancy all brightness, she came out still, pure as gold refined in the -fire, which, Heaven forgive us, is what few of us can say for himself. -Amidst all the falsehoods and follies of the late court, never did I -know the breath of scandal sully her fair name! She was, indeed, _one -in a thousand!_ Conceal the manner of her death, if possible; and let -such honours as the church permits convey her to her last long home! -Now, farewell!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -Of all the many personages which have figured in this tale, there are -but few of whom it behoves us to give any farther account. The lives -of some stand written on the bright and glorious page of history, -never to be effaced till the waters of time have rolled long over this -portion of the globe, have levelled our dwellings and our monuments -with the sands, have washed away our learning and our records, and -blotted out not alone the sweet domestic memories--on which each -succeeding generation sets its foot, trampling with all the insolence -of youth the withered flower just dead--but have also razed, from the -hard tablet of glory, the few names that are really worthy of eternal -consecration. When such a change has taken place,--and who shall say -that it will not?--when Europe shall be called the land of forests and -of barbarism, and some prying strangers alone shall come from their -happier lands, and try to trace upon the desert shores the mouldering -remnants of arts and sciences and nations long gone by, perhaps the -name of Henry IV. of France, and those who resemble him, may be -forgotten, but till then they have a glorious existence separate from -the rest of men. The Duke of Mayenne, too, ambitious and intriguing, -but generous and often wise, has a share of the page of history; and -all those who continued to play a conspicuous part in the days of -Henry Quatre, either for good or for evil, have their record in the -annals of the time. This tale can alone take farther note of those -whose fate it has depicted in the preceding pages, and who at this -point separate themselves from the general course of history, either -to fall into the calm repose of sweet domestic life, or to seek a -refuge from unhappy fortunes in the tomb. - -The body of Beatrice of Ferrara being removed from the cottage where -Eugenie de Menancourt had dwelt so long, was borne to the chateau in -which she herself had spent the last hours of her own existence; and -with curses and imprecations upon his head, the tale of what his -machinations had wrought was told to the dwarf Bartholo by the more -faithful yet less attached servants of his late mistress. - -He listened to the whole in sullen composure, and even a smile played -upon his lip as he heard of the death of the Count d'Aubin; but when -the last sad event was mentioned by the narrator, and he learned that -Beatrice herself was dead, he struggled with the bonds that tied him, -and then cast himself grovelling on the ground, which he dewed with -his bitter agonising tears. He strove to tear his flesh with his -teeth; and when they took him up, more to gaze upon his torture, than -with any feeling of compassion--for no one loved, and no one -compassionated him--he raved upon them with frantic and incoherent -words, and again cast himself down in raving despair. For several days -he refused all food; but at length pity touched some one, and a leech -was sent for, who bled him largely, which produced a change. He no -longer raved, he no longer refused food, he took what was offered him, -did what was bid him; but it was with the slow and sullen stupidity of -an idiot. The fire, too, had left his eye; his activity was gone; his -witty sauciness at an end; and he would sit for days gazing vacantly -upon the floor, without hearing what was said to him, and without -addressing a word to any one. At length, the body of Beatrice of -Ferrara was conveyed to Italy for the purpose of being interred -amongst her princely ancestors; and then, though none knew how he -escaped, it was perceived that the dwarf was gone also. It was not, -indeed, extraordinary that he had disappeared without notice; for -after his frenzy had terminated in idiocy, no one had paid him much -attention. - -How he travelled so great a distance, and how he supported himself by -the way, are equally unknown; but some three months after, the -wretched being was seen wandering about in the long vacant streets of -Ferrara, enduring the scoff of the schoolboy and the peasant. He -remained in that part of the country for several years; and those who -had known him when first he had entered the household of the princes -of Legnano, often gave food and money out of charity to the poor -dwarf, whom they now despised and had formerly hated. At length, one -morning, when the sacristan took his early round through the chapel in -which the dead of that noble house slept in the cold marble which was -their place of last repose, he was startled by seeing something curled -up at the end of the new monument erected to the Princess Beatrice. He -touched it, but it stirred not; and, familiar with the dead, he -carelessly raised up the head, and beheld the lifeless features of the -dwarf Bartholo. - -The Count d'Aubin lay with his ancestors; and the noble estates of -which he had been once the improvident possessor passed to his next -male heir, the Marquis of St. Real. To St. Real it was pointed out by -skilful and honest lawyers that, as the creditors who had claims upon -the late Count could not easily prove their right, his estates might -be rendered clear by a very simple process of law. But St. Real -preferred a simpler process still; and from the funds accruing from -large and well-managed lands discharged the debts, and freed the -inheritance. The claims which were the most difficult to arrange were -those of the heirs and successors of one Albert of Wolfstrom, who -having been executed, under a judicial sentence regularly pronounced -by a competent tribunal, for various transactions which did not even -permit the harlot compassion of public excitement to attend his end, -it was more than doubtful whether any of the demands which were made -upon St. Real in his name were really to be sustained. There were some -through which the young Marquis at once struck his indignant pen, and -others which, though equally illegal, he paid at once; but in the end, -as so often happens, the debts which had seemed overwhelming to him -whose bad management had incurred them, were easily liquidated by a -more provident though not a less liberal lord; and the estates of -Aubin made a splendid addition to those of the Marquis of St. Real. - -The young lord himself saw Eugenie de Menancourt reinstated in her -ancestral halls, and wandered with her for a few days through the -scenes they had both loved in childhood--scenes where the memories of -the past, both dark and bright, blended into a solemn, but a sweet and -soothing light, which, shining mellow and calm upon the happy present, -gradually brightened into hope as the eye turned towards the future. -It was like the twilight of the summer sky in a far northern land, -where the night and the day mingle together in the west; and the soft -and shaded, yet radiant, sunset continues till the dawning of the -morning appears on the opposite horizon, so that the beams of the past -and the future day meet in the zenith of the present. - -It might be said that the experience which Eugenie de Menancourt and -Huon St. Real already had of the past was sufficient to have justified -their immediate marriage. But Eugenie had her scruples, and St. Real -had a confidence derived from higher sources than either the usual -happy fortunes of his house, or the promising turn which the war had -taken. An old female relation was sought to bear the young heiress -company for the next six months. To her Eugenie's education had been -principally confided during her youth; her instructions had greatly -tended to render her what she was, and St. Real thought that the -society of no one could be better for her he loved till the day of -their marriage at length arrived. In the meantime, he rejoined the -king's army, and took part in the various events of the war which -ultimately placed Henry IV. in possession of the capital of his -kingdom, and put an end to the troublous times by which his reign -began; but it will be remembered by all persons well versed in that -portion of the history of France, that the part of the country in -which the estates of Eugenie de Menancourt were situated never fell -again into the hands of the League. Various detached towns in Normandy -and Maine that faction did indeed continue to hold for some time, but -the progress of the king after the battle of Ivry was uninterrupted, -though gradual, till peace crowned his efforts; and his people learned -to love, nay, almost to adore, the monarch against whom many of them -had drawn their swords. - -At length, six months after the death of Beatrice of Ferrara, Eugenie -de Menancourt gave her hand to him whom she was not now ashamed to own -she had loved from her earliest youth. Henry signed the marriage -contract; and when the young Marquis, having seen him firmly seated on -the throne of his ancestors, took leave of the monarch and his court, -resolved to spend the rest of his life, as his fathers had done before -him, in the calm tranquillity of his paternal domains, Henry placed -round his neck the order of the _St. Esprit_, saying, that as he well -knew he should but seldom see his face again, he was resolved to give -him something whereby to remember the days he had passed with Henry -Quatre. - -Do we need to inquire how St. Real and Eugenie passed their after -life? It sometimes happens, indeed, that two people who have loved -well and truly in the first burst of youthful passion, crossed, -disappointed, and soured, persevere against all opposition through -long years of withering anxiety, till they meet together at length, -with tempers irritated, and hearts no longer the same; and find -nothing but misery in that union, from which they had anticipated -nothing but happiness. Not so, however, St. Real and Eugenie de -Menancourt. They had long loved without knowing it; and had chiefly -had to struggle with the opposition of their own principles to their -own wishes. They had been thwarted, but not disappointed; they had -been grieved, but not irritated. Their sorrows had served like the -black leaf on which the diamond is set, to increase, not tarnish, the -lustre of the happiness they now enjoyed. But happiness will not bear -description. It is the calm stream that neither foams nor murmurs; and -theirs continued flowing on like a mighty river, which, troubled and -obstructed at its source, soon overbears all obstacles, and then, -having once reached the calm level of the open country, flows on -increasing in volume, though it loses in brightness, till the full -completed stream falls into the bosom of the eternal ocean. - - - -FOOTNOTES - -[Footnote 1: The passion for dwarfs as attendants in great houses was -so universal in France at this time, that the most extravagant sums -were given for them. Henry III. is reported to have had no less than -nine at one time; and at his court there was a regular _tailleur_ and -_valet des nains_.] - -[Footnote 2: This speech of the dwarf applies to various modes of -travelling then known in France, which it might be tedious to explain -more fully in this place.] - -[Footnote 3: The Duke of Guise, who held the throne of Henry III. and -was afterwards barbarously assassinated by command of that monarch, -had been his bosom friend in youth.] - -[Footnote 4: In English, a mortgage. This sort of encumbrance was but -too frequently created in France during the wars of the League and the -epoch of debauchery which preceded, accompanied, and followed them.] - -[Footnote 5: I have, in another romance, published long since this -work was written, given a description of the phenomenon here -mentioned, and have in that tale attempted to depict it as it appeared -to the Royalists.] - - - -WOODFALL, AND KINDER PRINTERS, LONG ACRE, LONDON. - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's One in a Thousand, by George Payne Rainsford James - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE IN A THOUSAND *** - -***** This file should be named 50689-8.txt or 50689-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/8/50689/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the University of Virginia) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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(George Payne Rainsford) James"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="George Routledge and Sons Limited"> -<meta name="Date" content="1903"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - - - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} -.text10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} -.text20 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} - - -.poem0 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 0%; - margin-right: 0%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - -.poem1 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 2em; - margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - -.poem2 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - -.poem3 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 30%; - margin-right: 30%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - - - - - -figcenter {margin:auto; text-align:center; margin-top:9pt;} - -.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0em;} -.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0em;} -.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em;} -.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0em;} -.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0em;} -.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0em;} - - -.quote {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} -.ctrquote {text-align: center; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} - -.dateline {text-align:right; font-size:90%; margin-right:10%; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's One in a Thousand, by George Payne Rainsford James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: One in a Thousand - or, The Days of Henri Quatre - -Author: George Payne Rainsford James - -Commentator: Laurie Magnus - -Release Date: December 14, 2015 [EBook #50689] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE IN A THOUSAND *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the University of Virginia) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source:<br> -https://books.google.com/books?id=3LFEAAAAYAAJ -(the University of VirginiA)<br> -2. Chapters misnumbered going from III. to V.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h1>One in a Thousand<br> -<span style="font-size:15pt">or</span><br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">The Days of Henri Quatre</span></h1> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h1>One <i>in a</i><br> -THOUSAND<br> -<span style="font-size:15pt"><i>By</i></span><br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">G. P. R. JAMES</span></h1> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LONDON:<br> -GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS LIMITED<br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">MDCCCCIII</span></h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="normal"><i>The Introduction is written by </i><span class="sc">Laurie Magnus, M.A.</span>; <i>the Title-page -is designed by </i><span class="sc">Ivor I. J. Symes.</span></p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>INTRODUCTION.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">George Payne Rainsford James, Historiographer Royal to King William -IV., was born in London in the first year of the nineteenth century, -and died at Venice in 1860. His comparatively short life was -exceptionally full and active. He was historian, politician and -traveller, the reputed author of upwards of a hundred novels, the -compiler and editor of nearly half as many volumes of letters, -memoirs, and biographies, a poet and a pamphleteer, and, during the -last ten years of his life, British Consul successively in -Massachusetts, Norfolk (Virginia), and Venice. He was on terms of -friendship with most of the eminent men of his day. Scott, on whose -style he founded his own, encouraged him to persevere in his career as -a novelist; Washington Irving admired him, and Walter Savage Landor -composed an epitaph to his memory. He achieved the distinction of -being twice burlesqued by Thackeray, and two columns are devoted to an -account of him in the new "Dictionary of National Biography." Each -generation follows its own gods, and G. P. R. James was, perhaps, too -prolific an author to maintain the popularity which made him "in some -ways the most successful novelist of his time." But his work bears -selection and revival. It possesses the qualities of seriousness and -interest; his best historical novels are faithful in setting and free -in movement. His narrative is clear, his history conscientious, and -his plots are well-conceived. English learning and literature are -enriched by the work of this writer, who made vivid every epoch in the -world's history by the charm of his romance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Man at Arms" tells the story of Jarnac and Moncontour, and ends -with the fatal day of St. Bartholomew. "Henry of Guise" takes up the -history of the Religious Wars, with sympathy chiefly for the -Catholics, and closes with the assassination of that great soldier; -then "One in a Thousand" resumes the tale just before the murder of -Henry III. and the battle of Ivry. The two former are rather short and -remarkably brisk in movement, this one is somewhat longer and much -more elaborate. It has a complex plot, a large crowd of characters -from both factious, and has evidently been worked out with, perhaps, -less vivacity but more pains. "Willingly" says the novelist, "we turn -once more from the dull, dry page of history ... to the more -entertaining and instructive accidents and adventures of the -individual characters which, with somewhat less skill than that of a -Philidore, we have been moving about on the little chess-board before -us." There is an ironical undermeaning here; but so far as James -suggests that his flagrant romanticism, mysterious dwarfs, princesses -disguised as pages, and battles prefigured in the thunder-clouds are -more interesting than his retelling of historical events and careful -portraiture of historical people, we must venture to dissent from him. -The fiction is simply his favourite story of a wealthy heiress held -out as a bait by the heads of rival factions to attract the allegiance -of two powerful nobles. We feel not the slightest anxiety as to the -ultimate happiness of the fair lady and the blameless lover, or the -appropriate fate of their enemies. On the other hand, the intimate -picture of the Leaguers at Paris, of the headquarters of Henry Quatre, -and more particularly the speaking likeness of the Duke de Mayenne, -the head of the Guises, are keenly interesting and real contributions -to the history of those times. Though the stage effects are well done, -this shows far more talent. With all his fierce ambition, his lack of -scruple, and his froward temper, the Duke stands out as a man, and is -infinitely more alive than the purely romantic characters; -furthermore, the family likeness between the various members of that -powerful house, the Guises, is admirably brought out in this series of -romances, and the figure of Henry of Navarre is not less well done, -though he is a personage that we meet with less rarely either in -James's novels or in those of other historical raconteurs.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>ONE IN A THOUSAND;</h3> -<h5>OR,</h5> -<h3>THE DAYS OF HENRI QUATRE.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Oh the confines of the two beautiful provinces of Maine and Touraine, -lies one of the sweetest valleys that the foot of man ever trod. The -hills by which it is formed are covered on one hand by a wood of -venerable oaks, while the other side offers a green slope only broken -occasionally by rocky banks; and on the summit of every eminence -stands out, in bold relief, a group of two or three young trees, -casting their deep, soft shadows on the velvet turf below.</p> - -<p class="normal">The eye of a traveller, placed at the northern extremity of the -valley, may trace its course winding on in varied beauty for nearly a -league to the southward; till at length the hills between the -acclivities of which it lies, seem to end abruptly in that direction, -but still without meeting; the one side terminating in a high rugged -rock, cutting clear and distinct upon the sky, and the other fringed -by the branches and foliage of the trees. Far away beyond--enframed, -as it were, by the opening of the valley--lies a rich, splendid -landscape, showing bright Touraine, with its plains, and woods, and -dells fading off in long misty lines of light and shade, till earth -and heaven blend in the blue obscurity of distance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Washing the roots of the trees on one side, and edged with a bank of -soft green moss on the other, a small limpid stream runs swiftly along -over a shallow bed of rocks and pebbles, and, like some spoiled child -of fortune, winds rapidly on amidst a thousand sweets and beauties, -still hurrying forward, careless of all the bright things that -surround its path. Such is the picture of that valley as I have seen -it within the last twenty years; but the tale I have to tell refers to -a period more remote.</p> - -<p class="normal">Down the steep, rugged bridle-road, which, descending sharply from the -brow of the more exposed hill, crossed the course of the valley and -the stream at nearly a right angle, and then, mounting the opposite -slope, made its way through the forest;--down that road, somewhere -near the end of April, 1589, a very handsome boy, seemingly about -sixteen years of age, took his path on foot. He was just at the time -of life when childhood and manhood meet--when sports, and pastimes, -and sweet innocence are cast away like faded flowers, and when we -first set the naked foot of inexperience on that burning and arid path -through the fiery desert of desire and disappointment, which each man -must tread, ere he reach the night's resting-place of the tomb. Not a -shade of down yet tinged his upper lip with the budding of the -long-coveted mustachio, and his face was smooth and soft; but there -was a flash and a fire in his splendid dark eye, which told that the -strong and busy passions that beset man's prime had already taken -possession of his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was dressed in a vest of dark murrey-coloured cloth, bound with a -light edging of gold, and in large trunk breeches descending to his -knee, made of the same stuff, and ornamented in the same manner. His -cloak, which was more ample than was usual in those days, or than the -time of year required, was fastened by a buckle to the right shoulder, -and, being brought round under his left arm in the Italian mode, was -wrapped across his chest, without opposing any obstacle to the free -passage of his hand towards the hilt of his dagger or his sword. He -was, if anything, below the middle height, and slightly made; but in -his countenance there were all those signs and features from which we -are accustomed to argue the presence of high and daring courage: and, -perhaps, it might have been a safer task to attack many a man of -greater personal strength, and much more warlike appearance, than that -slight boy, with his light active limbs, and quick remarking eye.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the summit of the hill he paused for a moment, and gazed over the -country which he had left behind, as if looking anxiously for some -expected sight; and then, muttering the words, "Negligent varlets!" he -resumed his path down the side of the hill. After wandering for a -short space along the margin of the shallow stream, seeking for a -place where he might cross its fretful waters, without wetting the -light buskins that covered his feet, he sat down upon the mossy bank -under the shade of a clump of oaks, seemingly wearied with his walk, -and, pulling off his boots and stockings, dipped his feet in the -rivulet to cool and refresh them. Laying his broad-plumed hat by his -side, he leaned back against the broken bank, from which sprang the -oaks that shaded him; and, with the water still rippling over his -feet, and the chequered light and shade of the green leaves above -playing on his broad fair brow, he seemed to give himself up to one of -those fanciful dreams ever so busy with the brain of youth.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was certainly a spot and an hour to dream in. It was the noon of a -bright spring day. Every bird of the season was singing its sweetest -song in the forest opposite or in the trees above his head; and his -seat was carpeted with the meek-eyed wood anemone, the soft blue -periwinkle, the daisy, the primrose, and the violet, together with a -thousand other flowers, the sweetest children of the early year, whose -very birth and being are one of the brightest themes that nature -offers to imagination. And yet the youth's meditations did not appear -to be pleasant ones. Whatever was the chain of thought that bound his -mind, there was upon his countenance an expression of sad and painful -gloom, which gradually changed, like the hues of a red and stormy -sunset, to the deeper signs of wrath and indignation. Sometimes he -gazed heavily upon the stream, with an eye all unconscious of the -flashing waters before it; and then again, as some sterner feeling -seemed to take possession of his heart, his brow would knit, his lip -would quiver, and his eye would flash like a young tiger in its -spring. Soon, however, the thoughts--whatever they were--which gave -rise to such emotions, passed away; and, hanging down his head, sadder -sensations seemed, in turn, to occupy his breast. A bright drop rose -and glittered in his eye, and the quick blood mounted hastily into his -cheek, as if ashamed of the passion he had shown, though he knew not -that any one was near to witness its expression.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether the passing emotions by which he had been agitated were marked -or not, his progress from the top of the hill to the spot where he sat -had not been unobserved; and the next moment a rustling sound, -proceeding from the bushes on the opposite side of the stream, -startled him from his reverie. Bounding up like a frightened fawn, he -fixed his eyes upon the trees in the direction from which the noise -had proceeded; but the thick foliage concealed for the time the object -which alarmed him; though, by the continuance of the sound, and the -waving of the boughs, it was evident that some large body was making -its way towards the side of the river. The next instant the figure of -a man emerged from the wood, and then that of a horse, whose bridle, -cast over the stranger's arm, afforded the means of leading it forward -along the narrow footpath which they had been treading. The leisurely -pace at which both man and horse proceeded gave no signs of intentions -actively hostile towards any one; and although those were days in -which dangers were to be found in every field and in every road, yet a -moment's thought seemed to have made the youth ashamed of the timid -start which the stranger's approach had occasioned. Colouring highly, -he sat down again upon the bank, and applied himself busily to replace -his boots and stockings, without vouchsafing a look towards the other -side of the stream.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you have done, my fair youth," said the stranger, after gazing -at him for a minute from the opposite bank, "will you answer me a -question?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it suit me, and if I can," replied the youth, looking up into the -stranger's face for the first time.</p> - -<p class="normal">That face was not one to be seen without exciting in those who beheld -it, more and more agreeable sensations than are usually called up by -the blank countenances of the great mass of mankind--too often -unlettered books, where mind and feeling have scarcely written a -trace. The features on which the lad now gazed were strongly marked, -but handsome; the broad expanse of the high, clear forehead, the open -unbent brow, the bright speaking eye, and the full arching lips, -conveyed at once to the untaught physiognomist which watches and -reasons at the bottom of every man's heart, the idea of a candid -and generous mind. There was much intelligence, too, in that -countenance--intelligence without the least touch of cunning--all -bright, and clear, and bold.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger was about the middle height, and, apparently, had seen -four or five and thirty summers: they might be less or more; for -circumstances, so much more than time, stamp the trace of age upon the -external form, as well as upon the heart and feelings, that it is -often difficult to judge whether the wrinkles and furrows, which seem -to have been the slow work of years, are not, in reality, the marks of -rapid cares or withering passions. In his face were several lines -which might well have borne either interpretation; but still, neither -his dark brown hair, nor his thick glossy beard, offered the least -evidence of time's whitening hand. His dress was a simple riding suit, -the green hue of which appeared to bespeak, either for profit or -amusement, a devotion to the chase. The same calling seemed denoted by -a small hunting-horn, which hung by his side; and his offensive arms -were no more than such sport required. He wore, however, a hat and -high white plume, instead of the close unadorned bonnet generally used -in the chase; and his horse, too, a deep bay barb, had less the air of -a hunter than of a battle charger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My question is a very simple one, good youth," he said, while a -slight smile curled his lip, excited by a certain degree of -pettish flippancy which the boy displayed in replying to his first -address:--"Did you meet a troop of reitters just now, as you came over -the hill? and which way did they take?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did meet a troop of Dutch vagabonds," replied the boy, boldly: -"villains that foolish Frenchmen hire to cut foolish Frenchmen's -throats! and as to the way they took, God 'a mercy! I watched them -not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But from yon hill you must have seen which road they went," replied -the stranger. "I am one of those foolish Frenchmen whom you mention, -and an inoffensive person to boot, whose throat would have but small -security under the gripe of these worthy foreigners. One of them I -might deal with--ay, two--or three, perchance; but when they ride by -scores, and I alone, I see not why the green wood should not cover me, -as well as many a brave boar or a stout stag. I pray thee, therefore, -good youth, if thou sawest the way they took, let me know it, for -courtesy's sake; and if thou sawest it not, why, fare thee well! I -must take my chance."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment or two the boy made no reply, but measured the stranger -from head to foot with his eye; somewhat knitting his brow, as he did -so, with a look of some abstraction, as if his mind were too busy with -what he saw to heed the incivility of his long-protracted stare. -"Yes," said he, at length, speaking apparently to himself, "yes;" and -then, addressing the stranger, he demanded abruptly, "whither go you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, good youth! nay!" replied his companion; "these are not -times--nor France the country--nor this the spot of all France--in -which a man would choose to trust the first person he meets, with -where he goes or what he goes for. I ask you not your road--ask me not -mine. If you can answer my question, whether the band of reitters took -the path to Tours, or wound under the hill towards La Fleche, do so, -and I will thank you; if not, once more farewell!"--and, without -putting foot in stirrup, he sprang upon his horse's back.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Answer your question I cannot," replied the boy, with a degree of -calm earnestness that seemed to speak greater interest in the stranger -than he had at first evinced; "but I can do more for you," he -proceeded. "Where the reitters went I did not see, for I hid myself -behind the rocks till they were past; but I can show you paths where -no reitters will ever come. Often have I flown my hawk across those -plains," he added in an explanatory tone, as if he wished to recommend -his guidance to the stranger by showing how his acquaintance with the -country had been acquired;--"often have I followed my hound through -these valleys, in other days long gone; and I know their every turning -better than my father's house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In other days!" said the stranger; "why thou art now but a boy!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," replied the youth; "yet I may have known other days, and -happier ones--but to my purpose. What I offer you, I offer knowing -what I am doing:" and he fixed Ins eyes upon the stranger's face with -a meaning, but not a disrespectful, glance, and then proceeded: "Tell -me whither you would go. I will conduct you thither in safety, and -will not betray you, upon my honour!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In faith, I believe I must even trust you," replied the stranger. -"There are many who, with wise saws and cautious counsels, would -fain persuade me to be as prudent, and as careful of my life, as a -great-grandmother of eighty years and upwards. But life, at best, is -but as gold, a precious thing given to be spent. Whip me all misers, -whether of their purse or of their safety, say I; and, therefore, boy, -you shall be my guide, though you should give me over to all the -reitters that ever the factious house of Lorraine brought to back the -treason which they call piety."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will give you over to no reitters," replied the boy; "so be your -mind at ease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Odds life! it is seldom otherwise than at ease," rejoined the other: -"my heart is a light one, and will not be heavy now, as I ride on -beside thee; though I may have caught thy tongue tripping, my fair -boy. Thou art no Frenchman, or thine accent sorely belies thee."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now do you think me both a German and a reitter, I warrant!" replied -the youth, with a playful smile, and a toss back of his dark hair. -"But cannot your ear distinguish between the hoggish twang of the -Teutonic gutturals, and the soft music of the Italian liquids?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks it can," replied the stranger; "but, whether German or -Italian, Switzer, or even Spaniard, thou shalt be my guide. Knowest -thou the chateau of the Marquis of St. Real?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The youth started. "Do I know it!" said he, "do I know it!" then -suddenly seeming to check, in full career, some powerful feelings that -were in the very act of bursting from his heart to his lips, he added, -more calmly, "I know it well! I know it well! Willingly will I show -you your road thither, and, perhaps, may name my guerdon by the way; -but it is too far a journey for me on foot in one day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will buy thee a horse, my fair boy," replied the stranger: "I must -be at St. Real this night, and at Tours ere noon to-morrow; so we will -buy thee a horse at the first village where we can find one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"An ass will serve my turn as well as the best Barbary steed," said -the youth; "and the one will be more easily found than the other; for, -what between the League and the Huguenots, there are more asses in -France than any other kind of beast--so now let us on our way."</p> - -<p class="normal">Returning into the road from which he had strayed to wash his feet, -the boy stepped lightly, from stone to stone, across the stream, and -soon stood on the same side with the traveller. He, on his part, as if -unwilling to save himself fatigue by continuing to ride while the -youth walked by his side on foot, once more dismounted; and they then -turned their steps up the broad way which led through the forest to -the top of the hill, descanting, as they went, on the fineness of the -day, the beauty of the scene, and all the ordinary topics which -furnish conversation to those who have few subjects in common; but -each avoiding, as if by mutual consent, any allusion to the purpose or -station of his companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was, as we have said, as fair and sunshiny an April day as ever -woke since first the beautifying will of the Almighty robed the hills -with verdure, and spread out loveliness as a garment over earth. The -trees that, springing from the high broken banks on either side, -canopied the road with their green boughs, were living and tuneful -with all the birds of spring. There is not a cheerful feeling in the -heart of man that might not there have found some sweet note to wake -it into harmony. The air was balm itself--soft, yet inspiring like the -breath of hope; and the dancing light and shade, that chequered the -long perspective up the hill, had something in it gay and sportive, -which--joined with the song of the birds, and the sparkling glee of a -small fountain that, bursting from the midst of the road, rushed in a -little diamond rivulet down to the stream below--addressed itself to -all the purer sources of happiness in the human breast, and spoke of -peace and joy. Both the journeyers, however, were grave; although the -one was in the early spring of youth--that bright season of man's life -where every pulse is light; and although each line in the countenance -of his companion spoke that constitutional cheerfulness which is the -most blessed auxiliary that this world can afford to aid man in -maintaining his eternal warfare against time and circumstance.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the top of the ascent, a wide and magnificent scene lay stretched -beneath their eyes. The hill was not sufficiently high, indeed, to -afford one of those map-like views, in which we see all the objects -spread out over a vast extent in harsh and unshadowed distinctness, -like the prospect of life and of the world which we take, when in -mature age, after having passed through the illusions of youth and the -passions of manhood, we gaze upon the past and the present, and see -the hard, cold, naked realities of existence without a softening shade -or an enlivening hue. Still the elevation was sufficient to let the -eye roam wide over scenes where line after line, in sweet variety, -presented a continual change of beautiful forms, softening in tint, in -depth of colour, and in distinctness of outline as the objects became -more remote, and forming a view such as that which is offered to the -eye of youth, when after having climbed over the light ascent of -boyhood, the joys of existence, grouped together without its cares, -are first presented to the sight, one beyond another, to the very -verge of being, all lighted up by hope, and coloured by imagination.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Run your eye," said the youth, "over that ocean of green boughs which -lies waving below us, to that tree-covered mound which starts high -above the rest. In a straight line beyond you catch the spire of -Beaumont en Maine, at the distance of nearly four leagues; and a -little farther to the right, upon a woody hill, you may see the dark -towers of the chateau of St. Real."</p> - -<p class="normal">His companion gazed on in the direction which he pointed out, and then -replied, "I once knew this land well, and could have marked out in it -many a fair field either for the chase or the battle; but other scenes -have made me forget it. Our memory is but like a French crown-piece, -since so many kings have been called, one after another, to rule this -unhappy land. First, one figure is strong upon it; then it goes to the -mint, and a new king's head drives out the other, and keeps its place, -till something fresh is stamped upon it again; while, all the time, -traces of former impression may be seen below, but indistinct and -meaningless. Ay! there is Beaumont en Maine, and there the chateau of -St. Real; I remember them now: but what is that massive building, with -that large square keep, still farther to the right?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The youth fixed his eyes upon it, and remained silent for more than a -minute: he then replied, abruptly, "That chateau belongs to the Count -d'Aubin. Let us on!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Memory is like moonlight, the reflection of brighter rays emanating -originally from an object no longer seen; and all our retrospects -towards the past times, as well as our individual remembrances, -partake in some degree of the softening splendour which covers small -faults and imperfections by grand masses of shade, and brings out -picturesque beauties and points of interest with apparently brighter -effulgence than even when the full sunshine of the present beaming -upon them, suffers at the same time the eye to be distracted, and the -mind otherwise engaged by a thousand minor particulars. Nothing gains -more, perhaps, from the impossibility of close inspection than the -manners, the customs, and the things of the past; and, in some -instances, even Nature herself, and Time, that enemy of man's works, -in general so remorseless, seem to take a fanciful pleasure in -assisting the illusion. That which was in itself harsh and rude in -form, acquires as it decays, a picturesque beauty which it never knew -in its prime; and the rough hold of the feudal robber, which afforded -but small pleasure to behold, and little convenience to its inmates, -is now seen and painted with delight, fringed with wild flowers -scattered from Nature's bountiful hand and softened with the green -covering of the ivy.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old chateau of St. Real, to which the two travellers we have just -left were bending their steps, and to which, for a moment, we must now -shift the scene, was one of those antique buildings, few of which have -outlasted the first French revolution--buildings which, however we may -love to look upon any that do remain, from the magical illusion -regarding former days to which I have just alluded, were, -nevertheless, much better suited to the times in which they were -built, than to the more luxurious present.</p> - -<p class="normal">Tumults, feuds, insurrections, civil wars, rendered every man's house -his castle in no metaphorical sense; and thus the old chateau of St. -Real, which had been originally built more than 400 years before the -opening of this history, and had been repaired and improved at least a -hundred times during the intervening ages of strife and bloodshed, was -naturally, in almost all respects, much better calculated for defence -against assault than for comfortable habitation. The woody chase, -which swept for many a mile round the base of the little hill on which -it stood, was cleared and opened in the immediate vicinity of the -chateau; and the various avenues were defended with all the accuracy -to which the art of war had arrived in those times. The very garden -was a regular fortification; the chateau itself a citadel. From the -reign of Louis VI., in which its walls had first been raised from the -ground, to the reign of Henry III. with which this tale begins, -although repairs and improvements had, as we have said, been often -made, they were solely military, and nothing had in the slightest -degree been permitted which could change the antique aspect of the -place. Indeed, its proprietors, the Marquises of St. Real, springing -from the most ancient race of French nobility, clung to the antiquity -of their dwelling as if it formed a part and parcel of the antiquity -of their family. Their habits, their manners, their characters, -smacked all of the ancient day; and it was ever with pain that they -suffered any of their old customs to be wrenched from them by the -innovating hand of improvement.</p> - -<p class="normal">At their gate, even in the times I speak of, hung, for the purpose of -summoning the warder to the wicket, the last horn which, perhaps, was -ever used on such occasions in France; and, though the mouthpiece had -been renewed, and the chain frequently mended, the horn itself was -averred to be the very same which had been hung there in the days of -Philip Augustus. But if the lords of St. Real still maintained some -tinge of the rudeness of their ancestors, it must by no means be -forgotten that it was to the nobler and brighter qualities of former -times that they adhered most strongly. They were a proud but a -chivalrous race, bold, hospitable, courteous, generous, unswerving in -faith and in honour. Their talents, which were by no means -inconsiderable, had been principally displayed in the field; and some -of the sneerers of the court had not scrupled to call them the <i>Simple -St. Reals</i>: but, notwithstanding a degree of simplicity, which -certainly did characterise them, they had ever been distinguished, -from father to son, by that discriminating discernment of right and -wrong which is worth all the wit in the world. Never had their word -been pledged without being redeemed; never had their voice sanctioned -a bad action; never had their sword supported an evil cause.</p> - -<p class="normal">The present Marquis of St. Real, who was an old man who had borne arms -under Francis I. had during the whole of the wars of the League -remained obstinately neuter. He had declared, at the commencement of -these unhappy wars, that he would not unsheathe his sword against his -lawful sovereign, though friendly to the King of Navarre, and allied -remotely to the house of Bourbon; but at the same time he added, that -nothing should ever induce him to join in an unjust and cruel war -against a portion of his countrymen, who were but defending one of the -dearest and most unalienable rights of mankind--their religious -liberty.</p> - -<p class="normal">Too powerful for either party to entertain the hope of forcing him -from his neutrality by any violent measures, both the League and the -Huguenots spared no means of conciliation, which either wisdom or -cunning could suggest, to win him to their side; for vast domains, in -which the feudal customs of former times remained in full force, -rendered his alliance a thing to be coveted even by the strongest. He -remained unmoved, however; and neither a strong personal friendship -which existed between himself and the Duke of Mayenne, nor the -instigations and artifices of his confessor, could induce him to join -the League, any more than gratitude to the King of Navarre for several -personal favours, horror at the crimes of Saint Bartholomew, or even a -strong belief that the Protestants were right in their warfare, if not -in their religion, could bring him over to the party of the Huguenots.</p> - -<p class="normal">To avoid wearisome solicitation, he had entirely abandoned the -capital, and remained in the solitude of his paternal estates, wholly -occupied in the education of his son, into whose mind, as principles, -he endeavoured to instil, not knowledge of the world, or of courts, -but all the firm and noble feelings of his own heart. He succeeded; -the Chevalier de St. Real grew up to manhood everything that his -father's fondest hopes could have anticipated: bold as a lion, skilled -in all warlike exercises, and full of every sentiment that does honour -to human nature. But yet, in many things, he was as simple as a child. -Cut off from the general society of Paris, he wanted entirely that -knowledge of the world which was never more necessary than in the days -in which he lived.</p> - -<p class="normal">On one occasion, indeed, when the infamous Catherine de Medicis, and -her beautiful but licentious train, had visited the chateau of St. -Real for the purpose of winning its lord to the party she espoused, -more than one of her fair syrens had striven, by various arts, to -initiate the handsome Chevalier of St. Real into the libertine -mysteries of that debauched court; but he met them uniformly with that -perfect simplicity which, though joined with much natural good sense, -raised many a secret laugh at his expense, and yet guarded him -effectually from their worst artifices.</p> - -<p class="normal">The general current of his time flowed on in the various amusements of -the country, as they existed in that age. The chase of the boar, the -stag, and the wolf afforded active exercise for the body, while the -large and ancient library of the chateau--a rare treasure in those -days--yielded occupation to a quick imagination and an energetic mind, -in poring over many a printed tome and many an illuminated manuscript. -Besides these employments, however, both the old lord of St. Real and -his son felt a keen interest in pursuits seldom much attended to by -the feudal nobility of France. They not only lived in the country, and -amongst their peasantry, but they also loved the country and their -peasantry, and delighted in watching and superintending all those -agricultural operations which formed the daily relaxation of many of -the noblest Romans, but which were, in general, looked upon with -indifference, if not contempt, by the new class of chieftains who -sprung from the <i>élite</i> of their barbarous conquerors. The lords of -St. Real delighted in all: they held to the full the opinion of the -old orator, when he exclaimed--"Nec vero segetibus solum et pratis, et -vineis, et arbustis res rusticę lętę sunt, sed etiam hortis et -pomariis, tum pecudum pastu, apium examinibus, florum omnium -varietate;" and, though they followed not precisely all the directions -of Liebaut in his <i>Maison Rustique</i>, the garden that lay within the -flanking walls of the castle, the orchard which extended from the -outer balium to the barbacan, and the trellised avenue of vines which -ran to what was called the lady's bower, showed taste as well as skill -in those who had designed and executed them.</p> - -<p class="normal">During several years previous to the precise epoch at which we have -commenced our tale, the old lord of St. Real had seldom, if ever, -slept a night without the walls of his own dwelling. His son, however, -when either business, or that innocent love of a temporary change, -which every man may well feel without meriting the charge of being -versatile, afforded a motive for his absence from home, would often -spend a day or two in the great city of Tours, or at the castles of -the neighbouring nobility. Some communication with the external world -was thus kept up; but the chief companionship of the Chevalier of St. -Real was with his cousin-german the Count d'Aubin, who, though -attached to the court, and very different in mind and character from -his relations, often retired for a while from the gay and busy scenes -in which he mingled, to enjoy the comparative solitude of his estates -in Maine, and the calm refreshing society of his more simple cousin.</p> - -<p class="normal">The character of Philip Count d'Aubin was one that we meet with every -day. Endowed with passions and talents naturally strong, his passions -had been pampered, and his talents misdirected, by an over-indulgent -parent. A doubt had been at one time entertained of the legitimacy of -his birth, but no one had contested his title; and the early -possession of wealth, power, and influence, with the unrestrained -disposal of himself and of the property which the death of his father -left in his hands, had certainly tended in no degree to curb his -desires or extinguish his vanity. His heart had, perhaps, been -originally too feeling; but the constant indulgence of every wish and -fancy had dulled the former brightness of its sensations; and it was -only at times that the yet unextinguished fight shone clearly up to -guide him through a maze of errors. His very talents and shrewdness -often led him onwards in the wrong: for, possessing from education few -fixed principles of action, the energies of his mind were generally -turned to the gratification of his passions; and it was only when -original rectitude of heart suggested what was good, that reason too -joined her voice to urge him on the road of virtue. He was, in fact, -the creature of impulse; but, as he had unfailing gaiety, and wit at -will, and as a sudden turn of feeling would often lead him to some -noble or brilliant action, a sort of false, but dazzling, lustre hung -about his whole conduct in the eyes of the world: his powers were -overrated, and his weaknesses forgotten. He was the idol and -admiration of the young and unthinking, and even the old and grave -often suffered the blaze of some few splendid traits to veil the many -spots and blemishes of his character.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the night following that particular day at which it has appeared -necessary to commence this history, the two cousins spent some time -together pacing up and down the great hall of the chateau of St. Real. -The Count d'Aubin had come hastily from Paris, on receiving tidings of -the severe illness of his uncle; and their conversation was of a -wandering and discursive nature, originating in the increasing -sickness of the old Marquis, who was then, for the first time during -many days, enjoying a few hours' repose.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, Huon, thy father is ill," said D'Aubin, as they descended the -stairs to the hall, "far worse than I deemed him till I saw him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has, indeed, much fallen in strength during the day," replied the -Chevalier de St. Real; "yet I hope that this slumber which has come -upon him may bring a change for the better."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count shook his head. "I know not," said he; "but yet I doubt it. -Your father, Huon, is an old man, and old men must die!" His cousin -bent his eyes upon the ground, and slightly contracted his brow; but -he did not slacken his pace, and the Count d'Aubin went on: "Yes, -Huon, however we may love them, however we may wish that they could -live to govern their own vassals and enjoy their own wealth, till -patriarchal longevity were no longer a wonder; and I know," he added, -pausing, and laying his hand upon his cousin's arm--"and I know, that -if the best blood in your noble heart could add to your father's life, -you would pour it forth like useless water;--still, whatever ties may -bind them to us, still they are, as the old men amongst the ancients -did not scruple to call themselves, <i>pabulum Acherontis</i>--but food for -the tomb: and none can tell when death may claim his own. I say this -because I would have you prepared in mind for an event which I see -approaching; and I would also have you prepared to take some quick and -immediate part in the great struggle which every day is bringing -towards its climax in this land. Your father's neutrality has -lasted long enough--nay, too long; for it is surely a shame that -you, as brave a youth as ever drew a sword, should have lived to -five-and-twenty years without ever having led his followers to any -nobler strife than the extermination of those miserable <i>Gaultiers</i> -who came to ravage our fair plains. True, they were ten times your -number--true that you defeated them like a very Orlando; but that is -only another reason why your valour and your skill should not lie -rusting in inactivity. Should your father die, give sorrow its due; -then call your vassals to your standard, and boldly take one part or -another. Faith, I care not which it be--Harry of Navarre and his -Huguenots, Harry of France and his chevaliers, or Mayenne's brave Duke -and the factious League: but for Heaven's sake, Huon, should fate make -you Marquis of St. Real, cast off this idle, sluggardly neutrality."</p> - -<p class="normal">Huon de St. Real had listened attentively to his cousin, though every -now and then the flash of some painful emotion broke across his -countenance, as if what he heard contained in each word something -bitter and ungrateful to all his feelings. "Philip! Philip!" said he, -pausing in his quick progress through the hall, as soon as the other -had ceased speaking, "I know that you wish me well, and that all which -you say proceeds from that wish; but let us drop this subject -entirely. My father is ill--I feel too bitterly that he is in danger; -but the bare thought of what I would do with his vassals, in case of -his death, has something in it revolting to every feeling of my heart. -Let us change the topic. Whatever misfortune Heaven may send me, I -will endeavour to bear like a man, and whenever I am called to act, I -will endeavour to act rightly. When that time comes, I will most -willingly seek your advice; but I trust it will be long, very, very -long, before I shall need the counsel of any other than of him who has -heretofore guided and directed me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The lip of the Count d'Aubin slightly curled at this reply; and, -glancing his eye over the tall, graceful form of his cousin, while he -compared the simple mind and habits of St. Real, with his own worldly -wisdom, and wild erratic course, he mentally termed him an overgrown -baby. Nevertheless, although he was often thus tempted to a passing -scoff or an ill-concealed sneer, yet there was a sort of innate -dignity in the very simplicity of the Chevalier of St. Real, which had -its weight even with his world-read cousin; and, whenever temporary -disappointment, or disgust, or satiety weaned D'Aubin awhile from the -loose society in which he mingled, gave time for quiet thought, and -re-awakened better feelings, leading him to seek, in the advice of any -one, support against the treacherous warfare of his own passions, it -was to none of his gay companions of the capital, nor to monk, nor -priest, nor confessor, that he would apply for counsel; but rather to -his simple, frank-hearted, unsophisticated cousin, St. Real.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well," said he, "let us change our theme;" and then, after -taking two or three more turns in the hall, he went on; though there -was mingled in his manner a certain natural hesitation with an -affected frankness, which might have shown to any very close observer -of human nature that the Count d'Aubin was touching upon matter in -regard to which, desire was in opposition to some better principle, -and that he feared to hear even the opinion which he courted. "I spoke -but now," he continued, "of Mayenne and the League; and you will think -it strange when I tell you, that I--I, who have ever been as staunch a -royalist as Epernon, or Longueville--would now give a chateau and a -pint of wine, as the vulgar have it, to change my party and go over to -the League, did not honour forbid it."</p> - -<p class="normal">He spoke slowly and meditatively, fixing his eyes upon the ground, -without once looking in his cousin's face; yet walking with a firm, -strong step, and with somewhat of a sneer upon his lip, as if he -scoffed at himself for the reprehension which--while he acknowledged -wishes that he felt to be wrong--his proud spirit suffered by -comparison with the calm, upright integrity of the Chevalier.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not see that anything could justify such a step," replied St. -Real, far more mildly than the other had expected. "However wrongly -the King may have acted, however unwarrantable the manner in which he -has put to death the Duke of Guise, yet--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" interrupted his cousin: "Guise was a traitor--a great, brave, -noble, ambitious, unscrupulous traitor! And though the mode of his -death was somewhat unceremonious, it little matters whether it was an -axe or a dagger which did the work of justice: he was born for such a -fate. I thought not of him; it was of Eugenie de Menancourt I -thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" exclaimed St. Real, with a start; "no one has injured her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Injured her! No, i'faith!" replied the Count. "Why, my good cousin, -by your grim look, one would deem you her promised husband, and not -me. No, no; had she been injured, her injury had been well avenged by -this time. However, she is in the hands of the League. Her father, as -you know, was wounded on the day of the barricades, and died soon -after the flight of the court. His daughter, of course, would not -leave him while he lived, and, at his death, the Duchess of -Montpensier would fain have had her at the Hotel de Guise; and, though -Eugenie wisely stayed in her father's own house, they would not suffer -her to quit Paris, where she still remains--treated with all honour -and courtesy, mark you, but still a sort of honourable prisoner."</p> - -<p class="normal">His cousin paused in thought for a moment, and then replied, "But, -surely, if you were to demand her from the Duke of Mayenne, informing -him of the engagement between her father and yourself, she would be -given up to you at once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have done more," replied the Count; "whenever I heard of her -situation, I required, of course, that she should be placed in the -hands of the King, as her lawful guardian, till such time as her -marriage with myself could be celebrated. After many an evasion and -delay, the Duke replied to my application, that the throne of France -was vacant, by a decree both of the Sorbonne and the Parliament of -Paris; that, by the same authority, he himself was lieutenant-general -of the kingdom till such time as a meeting of the three estates should -regulate the government; and that, therefore, none other was for the -time the lawful guardian of Eugenie de Menancourt. In the same letter -he informed me, that the recent death of the young lady's father would -prevent her from thinking of marriage for some time."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin paused, shutting his teeth and drawing in his lips, evidently -unwilling to show the full mortification and anger which these -remembrances awoke; and, yet apparently leaving his tale unfinished.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In regard to the latter part of the Duke of Mayenne's reply, it seems -to me reasonable enough," answered the Chevalier de St. Real; "the -loss of such a father is not to be forgotten in a day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tut, man!" exclaimed his cousin, impatiently. "Wilt thou never -understand a little of this world's ways? Huon, Huon! shut up in these -old walls, thou art as ignorant of the present day as if thou hadst -been born in the times of the first crusade. Nothing modern dare blow -that rusty horn at thy gate--far less walk into the hall. Know, then, -my most excellent, simple cousin, that since the ninth century a great -quarrel has taken place between words and realities, and that they -have separated, never to meet again; that now-a-days promises are of -air, honour is a name, virtue a bubble, religion a mask; and while -falsehood, hypocrisy, and folly walk about in comely dresses, and make -bows to each other in every street, truth lies snug in the bottom of -her well, secure in the narrowness of her dwelling, and the depth that -covers her. The first thing that every one thinks of now is his own -interest; and, sure that if he secures that, the world will give him -credit for all high qualities, he works straight for that one object. -Interest, interest, interest, is his waking thought and his sleeping -dream. Mark me, Huon! Mademoiselle de Menancourt is an heiress--one of -the most wealthy in France; young, beautiful!--you know how beautiful, -Huon; for, by my faith, I could once have been almost jealous of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of me!" exclaimed the other, stopping suddenly, and looking full in -his cousin's face, while a flush of surprise and indignation, all -unmixed with shame, spread scarlet over his cheek and brow. "Of me! -Philip, you do me great injustice! By my honour, if my hand or my word -could advance your marriage by a single day, you would find both ready -for your service. Tell me, when did I ever give you a moment's cause -for jealousy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay! you are too quick!" replied the Count; "I said not that I -was jealous of you; I merely said I could have been so, had I not -known you better. I speak of the time when our late excellent and -easy-virtued queen was here with her ladies. Many a bright eye was -bent upon you, and many a sweet lip was ready to direct you through -the tangled but flowery ways of love, without seeking to plunge you -into the mire of matrimony; yet, in all our rides, there were you, -always at Eugenie's bridle rein."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because she was the only pure thing present," interrupted St. Real, -quickly; "and because, Philip--if you will press me--I thought that -she might feel hurt that her promised husband should make love before -her face to one of an infamous queen's infamous followers. Ay, even -so, Philip! Frown not on me, good cousin; for such was the only -interpretation that even I, who am not apt to see actions in their -worst light, could place upon your conduct to Beatrice of Ferrara."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beatrice of Ferrara," replied the Count d'Aubin, with a degree of -vehemence which might have made some of his loose companions smile to -hear him use it in the vindication of any woman's virtue under the -sun--"Beatrice of Ferrara was no infamous follower of an infamous -queen; she was, I believe from my soul, as pure as snow, -notwithstanding all the impurity that surrounded her. I knew not that -I had shown her any such marked attention as you tell me; but let all -that pass," he added, musing, "let all that pass: what were we -speaking of before? O! I remember. To return, then, to my tale: -Eugenie de Menancourt is an heiress, with a dowry of beauty and -sweetness far beyond even her wealth; and wily Mayenne well knows that -her hand is a prize for the first man in France. Now, think you, my -good Huon," he continued, growing more and more eager, while the -bright flashing of his eye told that he was moved by some stronger -passion than the mere scorn with which he attempted to clothe his -lips--"now, think you, my good Huon, though he talks so loudly about -religion and zeal, and the state's welfare, that Mayenne has one -other wish, one other object, than to vault into an empty throne, or -play <i>maire du palais</i> to the old idiotic Cardinal de Bourbon! -Ambition--'tis all-snatching ambition, Huon! that is the idol he -worships; and whoever serves him in his schemes shall have the hand of -Eugenie de Menancourt, notwithstanding her father's plighted word to -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But Eugenie will never consent," replied St. Real, calmly. -"Doubt it not, Philip! I have known her from her childhood, as -well as you; and I have often remarked, that, notwithstanding her -gaiety--notwithstanding her seeming lightness of feeling, there was, -when she knew herself to be right, an unchangeable determination in -all her resolves, even in her childhood, that nothing could shake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fie! you know nothing of human nature," replied D'Aubin, with a -scoff; "or rather, I should say, of woman's nature. They are -light--light, Huon, as a dry leaf borne about upon the breath of every -wind that blows. The best of them, believe me, is firm in nothing but -her caprices. Mark me, Huon!" he added, laying his hand upon his -cousin's arm, and speaking with bitter emphasis, "within these ten -days I have seen Mademoiselle de Menancourt. I demanded a pass from -Mayenne; he granted it without a scruple, and free speech also of his -fair ward, as he called her. He was sure of the impression he had -made, and, therefore, kept up all fair seeming. I saw Eugenie; and she -calmly and coldly refused to ratify the promise that her father had -made me. Do you hear? She refused me! She rejected me! She told me she -did not, she could not love me!" And, giving way to a violent burst of -passion, totally opposed to the calm and contemptuous tone in which he -had before been speaking, he dashed his glove angrily down upon the -floor, as if it were the object that offended him.</p> - -<p class="normal">His cousin looked down in silence. He imagined, and not without -probability, that Mademoiselle de Menancourt must have seen the -licentious manner in which D'Aubin had trifled with the ladies of -Catherine's libertine court, and that she had resented it accordingly. -But, however culpably he might deem that his cousin had acted, he -would not have pressed it on him then for the world; and, besides, -there were sensations in his own bosom, at that moment, which forcibly -called upon his attention, and both surprised and alarmed him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is a strange thing the human heart; and, amidst the multitude of -its inconsistencies and its weaknesses, there is none stranger than -that principle which, as a French wit has remarked, is always ready to -point out to us, in the sorrows and misfortunes of our friends, some -topic of consolation for ourselves. As a general rule the sneer is -unjust, though with many it holds good always, and with most at times, -even with the highest and the most conscientious. Good, noble, -generous, with chivalrous ideas of honour and virtue, the Chevalier of -St. Real would sooner have laid his head upon the block than -entertained a thought of doing anything to his cousin's detriment; and -yet there was a degree of vague, undefined satisfaction in his -feelings, when he heard the declaration made by Eugenie de Menancourt, -that she did not and could not love the Count d'Aubin--satisfaction of -which he himself felt ashamed. "Good God! was it for him," he thought, -"to rejoice in his cousin's mortification? What matter for pleasure -ought he to find in the pain of a person he loved? None, surely none. -What is it, then, I feel?" he asked himself; "is it the triumph of -having foreseen that Eugenie de Menancourt would resent the slight put -upon her? Oh, no! Such a vanity can surely afford no gratification to -any reasonable being." Such was the interrogation which St. Real -rapidly addressed to his heart; but an instinctive apprehension of -finding unknown and dangerous matter at the bottom of his own -sensations prevented him from going deep enough.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whatever it was that he felt, the blood rushed into his face as if he -were committing some evil action; and he remained silent. The keen, -suspicious eyes of the Count d'Aubin fixed upon him, in surprise at -emotions that he did not comprehend; but he said nothing; and just as -St. Real was struggling to speak, the whole place echoed with two such -blasts upon the old horn at the gate, as had not rung amongst those -halls for many a year.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By heavens! that must be some drunken huntsman, St. Real," exclaimed -the Count, "blowing the horn at the gate, as if he was sounding for -his dogs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no! it is the ill-favoured dwarf you gave me," replied his -cousin. "He heeds no decencies, and, I verily believe, would blow a -flourish if we were all dying. Many a time have I thought to fell him -with my gauntlet for his insolence; but he is so small, that it would -seem a cruelty to crush such an insect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay; crush him not, I beseech thee," replied the Count d'Aubin. -"Remember, Huon, it was agreed between us, that when he seeks to quit -thee, or thou growest tired of him, he comes to me again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe, in truth, the creature loves me," answered St. Real; "and, -were it not for his stupid insolence, I might love him too; for there -are traits of good about him which would redeem many a dark spot."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count's lip curled; but he replied, "Call it not <i>stupid</i> -insolence, good cousin--call it, rather, clever insolence, for, on my -soul, he was occasionally too clever for such a service as mine, and -such a place as Paris. I know not well how it happened, but many a -deep secret of my bosom seemed somewhat too familiar to his high -ugliness; and so I gave him to you, who had no secrets to trust or to -conceal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God for that, at least!" answered St. Real, "for they are ever -a heavy burden. But here comes the incubus:" and as he spoke, the low -door of the hall was opened by a personage of whom it may be necessary -to speak more fully.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The personage concerning whom the last sentences were spoken, and who -now entered the hall, was not more than three feet six inches in -height,<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> but perfectly well formed in every respect, except that the -head, as is very usual with persons of his unfortunate description, -was somewhat too large for the size of the body it surmounted. His -former lord had spoken of his ugliness; but although his face was -certainly by no means handsome, yet there was nothing in it -approaching deformity. Between "the human face divine" and that of the -monkey, our great original, there are a thousand shades and varieties -of feature; and the countenance of the dwarf, it must be admitted, was -at the very far extreme of the chain, and at the end nearest the ape. -A pair of sparkling black eyes, and two rows of very fine white teeth, -however, rendered the rest of his features less disagreeable, but by -no means diminished his resemblance to the animal. Whether from a -consciousness of this likeness, and a desire to hide it as far as -possible, or from a sort of conceited foppery not uncommon, the dress -of this small man was as scrupulously elegant as the taste of that day -would admit. His beard and mustachios, which were soft and silky, were -most accurately trimmed. His hair, thrust back from his face, exposed -his large and somewhat protuberant forehead; while his pourpoint, -composed of deep blue cloth, was slashed with primrose silk, to favour -a somewhat dingy complexion. Sword and dagger he wore at his girdle; -and all the chronicles of those days bear witness that he well knew -how to use--and to use fearlessly--the weapons intrusted to his small -hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">His whole appearance produced a strange and not pleasant effect upon -those who saw him. The want of harmony between his size and his form -was constantly forcing itself upon attention. Could one have magnified -him, he would have appeared a very well-dressed cavalier, according to -the fashions of the times; and, had there not been something in his -whole form and air that bespoke manhood, one might have looked upon -him as a smart child; but, as it was, one felt inclined to smile as -soon as the eye fell upon him, though there was in his demeanour but -few of those absurdities by which many of his class of beings render -themselves ridiculous. He had neither strut nor swagger, smirk nor -simper; and the only thing which in any degree tended to render his -aspect peculiar, besides the fact of his diminutive form, was a -certain cynical smile which ever hung more or less about his lips, as -if, from a consciousness of superior talent or superior cunning, he -scorned the race which, for their superior corporeal qualities, he -hated; or rather, perhaps, as if he were ever prepared to encounter -their contempt for his inferior size by contempt for their inferior -acuteness.</p> - -<p class="normal">He entered the hall with ease, if not with grace; but, perhaps, with -more of what may be termed boldness than either. To St. Real, as his -actual master, he bowed low, and to the Count d'Aubin still lower, -accompanying the inclinations of his head, in this instance, with a -keen and significant glance, which, had the Chevalier de St. Real been -of a suspicious nature, might have made him place but little -confidence in an attendant of his cousin's recommending. But he -himself had nothing to conceal, and, as yet, feared not that any one -should see his inmost thoughts; for he was one of those few men who -know no other use for words than to express their feelings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why did you blow the horn so loud, Bartholo?" demanded St. Real, -"when you well knew that my father lies so ill?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did it, noble sir," replied the dwarf, "lest the cooks, and the -pages, and the concierge at the door should lose a jest and fit of -laughter--rare things in the castle of St. Real. I knew full well that -some one would cry out, 'Hear what a great sound can be made by a -little body!' and it would be unjust to disappoint the poor fools in -the offices, for fear of disturbing the rich gallants in the hall. -But, by my faith, I had another reason, too, which is worth looking -to. There was a traveller came with me, and an ass, and an ass's -burden."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was it the surgeon for whom I sent you?" asked St. Real, eagerly; -"the new surgeon from Tours?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seeing that my eyes and the surgeon are innocent of all intercourse," -replied the other, "I cannot tell you, noble sir, whether it be he or -not. The man was not in his dwelling when I reached it, so I left my -message, and rode further; and, as I came back, what should I see, -half a mile hence, but the white feather of this man's hat waving in -the dark night, and not knowing its way to the chateau of St. Real. I -asked him what party he was of, whither he was going, and if he had -passport or safe conduct. He answered, short enough, that he belonged -to his own party, had no passport but his sword and his right hand, -and was coming hither. So, whether he were surgeon or not, let those -judge that are wise! I asked no further, but brought him hither, and -left him in the green arras room, as he seemed no way dangerous, and -wished to see either the Marquis or the Marquis's son in private."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is either a reitter seeking service, or a quack-salver seeking the -sick," cried the Count d'Aubin. "Go to him--go to him quick, Huon! He -will whip you the gold lace off the hangings, either for his pocket or -his crucible. So go to him, and leave me the dwarf to jest withal."</p> - -<p class="normal">With the quick and impatient step which anxiety produces in the young -and active, St. Real bent his steps towards the chamber to which he -had been directed by the dwarf, hoping, notwithstanding the -description which had been given of the person who awaited him, that -he might prove the surgeon who had been sent for in aid of the -ordinary medical assistance attending upon his father.</p> - -<p class="normal">The room which he now entered was a small one, hung with arras of a -dark-green hue, that served to absorb the greater part of the light -afforded by a single lamp. The stranger had cast himself into a large -chair at the farther end of the chamber, and, in the half obscurity, -his person and features were but faintly seen; but nearer, and in the -full light, sat the youth whom we first found washing his feet in one -of the neighbouring streams. He seemed fatigued with journeying, and -leaning listlessly against a small table under the lamp, suffered his -head to rest upon his hand, showing a profusion of jetty curls falling -thick round his brow, while the cap and feather which he had worn -without was now thrown upon the ground beside him. The person whom he -had accompanied, however, retained his hat and high white plume, and -made no movement to rise as St. Real entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The eyes of the young noble first rested upon the boy; but immediately -turning towards the elder of his two visitors, he advanced towards -him, without noticing the apparent incivility of his demeanour. When -he had taken two steps forward, however, St. Real paused; and then, -with an exclamation of surprise, was again advancing, when the -stranger rose, saying, "Ha, Monsieur St. Real, I did not know you at -first. Ventre Saint Gris! I had forgot that ten years makes a boy a -man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I am not mistaken, I see his Majesty of Navarre," said the -Chevalier; "and only grieve that my father is not capable of bidding -him welcome, with all the goodwill that we entertain towards himself -and his royal house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Henry of Navarre, indeed!" replied the monarch; "as poor a King as -lives, St. Real, but one who grieves sincerely at your father's -illness. I trust that it is not dangerous, however, and that I shall -yet see him ere I depart; for to that purpose I have been forced to -steal me a path amidst bands through which I should have found it hard -to cut me a way, and to do that singly which I dared not attempt with -many a stout soldier at my back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My father sleeps, my lord," replied St. Real; "'tis the first sleep -that he has known for many a day, and I would fain----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wake him not--wake him not for me!" interrupted the King. "To-morrow -I must hie me back to Tours; but in the meanwhile I can well wait his -waking, and will crave some refreshment for myself and this good -youth, who has guided me hither, and who seems less able to bear -hunger and long riding than Henry of Navarre."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will order such poor fare as our house affords to be placed before -your Majesty directly," replied St. Real, "though I fear me much that -the two surgeons and a priest, together with a <i>gentilhomme serjent</i> -from La Fleche, are even now busy in despatching all that is already -prepared."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us join them! let us join them by all means!" cried the King; "by -my faith I would never choose to dine where better cheer is usually to -be found, than in company with surgeons and with priests. The first -are too much accustomed to the care of other people's bodies to -neglect their own; and the others, though they limit their special -vocation to the preparation of souls for the other world, are not -without care for the preservation of the corporeal part in this. But -our horses, St. Real--they stand in the court-yard: that is to say, my -horse, and this good youth's more humble charger in the shape of an -ass."</p> - -<p class="normal">St. Real turned his eyes upon the youth while the King spoke; and -after having replied that he would give instant orders for Henry's -equipage of all kinds to be attended to, added, still looking at the -boy, "Your Majesty's page, I suppose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If so, but the page of a day," replied the King; "but, nevertheless, -though of so short an acquaintance, I can say that he seems as good a -boy as ever lived, has guided me here through many dangers, with more -wit and more courage too than most would have shown, and is by far too -wise to prefer the service of a poor king to that of a rich lord. In -short, St. Real, it seems that he was coming here when I met with him; -and as his sole guerdon for the pains he has taken, he required me to -advocate his cause with your father, to have him received as a page in -your household."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My father," said St. Real, in reply, "has a mortal aversion to pages, -ever since the Queen was here with more than half a score, and will -only suffer two in his household--his own stirrup page, and mine, a -dwarf given me by my cousin Philip."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, you must not refuse my first request, St. Real," said the -King; "for I have many another to make ere I have done, and if I halt -at the first step, I shall never be able to walk through the rest of -the list."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! I never dreamed of refusing your Majesty so trifling a thing," -replied the other; "but we must give him some other name than page. -What will you be, my boy? You are too young and too gay-looking for a -valet in such a dull house as this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And too noble," added the youth, "or too proud, if you will. I seek -not, sir, to take wages of any man; but I seek to pass a time in some -house where the hearts are as noble as the blood they contain, where -old feelings are not forgot in new follies; and I would fain that that -house were the chateau of St. Real."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You speak well, good youth, and more like a man than a boy; but -somewhat too haughtily too," replied St. Real.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will speak more humbly when I am your follower," answered the -youth, colouring a good deal; "to those who would raise me up, I can -be as humble as the dust, and to those who would cast me down, as -proud as a diamond. I sought to be your father's page, my lord," he -added, in a softer tone; "because I heard much of him, and because all -that I did hear showed him as a man blending so equally in his nature -goodness and nobility, that love and reverence must be his followers -wherever he bend his steps."</p> - -<p class="normal">Something very like a tear rose in St. Real's fine clear eye, and the -youth proceeded. "I am grieved that aught should have grieved you, -sir, on his account; but still let me beseech you to take me into his -service. You know not," he added, eagerly, "how kindly I can tend -those I love; how I can amuse the weary hours of sickness, and while -away the moments of pain. I can read him stories from ancient lore, -and from many a language that few pages know. I can tell him tales of -other lands, and describe places, and things, and nations that he has -never seen. I can sing to him sweet songs in tongues that are all -music, and play to him on the lute as none in this land can play."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enough! enough!" cried Henry; "by my life, St. Real, if you do not -conclude your bargain with the boy quickly, I will step in and try to -outbid you in your offers; for if he but perform his undertaking with -you as well as he has done with me, you will have a page such as never -was since this world began."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was ours, my lord, from the first moment that your Majesty -expressed a wish that he should be so," replied St. Real. "There is my -hand, good youth, and it shall ever give you aid and protection at -your need. But tell me, what is your name? for although, as in the old -times, we let our guests come and go in the chateau without question; -yet, of course, I must know what I am to call <i>you</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leonard," answered the youth; "Leonardo, in my own land; but here in -France, men call me Leonard de Monte."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought I heard a slight Italian accent on your lips," said St. -Real; "but tell me, have I not seen you as one of the pages of Queen -Catherine's court?--a court," he added, almost regretting that he -had yielded to the King's request, "a court, not the best school -for----" But there again he paused, unwilling to hurt the feelings of -any one, and seeing a flush come over the boy's face, as if he already -anticipated the bitter censure that court so well deserved. The -youth's answer made him glad that he had paused.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know what are in your thoughts, sir," he replied; "but I beseech -you speak no evil of a mistress who is now dead, and who was ever kind -to me. Let her faults lie in the grave where she lies, and let men -forget them as soon as they forget virtues. As for myself, I may have -faults too; but they have never been those of the persons amongst whom -I mingled; I have neither learned to lie, nor to flatter, nor to -cheat, nor to run evil messages, nor give sweet hints. If, then, I -have lived amidst corruption and come out pure----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are gold tried in the fire," rejoined St. Real, laying his hand -upon his shoulder; "and I will trust you, my good youth, as much -convinced by the tenderness of your speech towards her who is no more, -as by your defence of yourself----. But this matter has kept your -Majesty too long," he added, "and by your permission I will now -conduct you to the lesser hall, where these four persons are at -supper; though I cannot but think that you had better suffer me to -order you refreshments here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, I will sup with chirurgeons by all means," replied Henry, -laughing, "and we will forget that there is such a thing as a king, if -you please, St. Real; for I would not have it blazed abroad that I am -wandering about without an escort, or I might soon find myself in the -castle of Amboise. Call me Maitre Jacques, if you please, for the -present time, and let us make haste; for if I am to gauge the appetite -of those worthy doctors by my own, they will have devoured the supper -ere we reach the hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Permit me, then, to show the way," replied St. Real; "seek out my -dwarf, Bartholo, good youth," he added, turning to the page, "and bid -him find you lodging and refreshment, as he values my favour. But I -will see more to your comfort myself shortly; for the villain is -sometimes insolent, and may be spiteful too, like most of his race, -though I never have marked it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The youth bowed his head without other reply, and St. Real proceeded -to conduct Henry of Navarre, afterwards so well known as the frank and -gallant "Henri Quatre," along the many long and dimly lighted passages -of the chateau of St. Real, towards a small hall in one of the -farthest parts of the building.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Maitre Jacques! remember I am Maitre Jacques!" said Henry, as the -young noble laid his hand upon the lock; "and you must not only make -your words call me so, but your demeanour also, St. Real."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not! fear not!" answered St. Real, in a low tone; "I will be as -disrespectful as you can desire, sire."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he opened the door, exposing to view the interior of what -was called the little hall, which presented a scene whereon we may -dwell for a single instant; for, though the picture which it displayed -of the callous indifference of human nature to the griefs and -sufferings of others, is not an agreeable one, it was not new enough -even then to excite wonder, and is not old enough now to be omitted. -The master of the house was dying, and his family full of sorrow at -the approaching loss of one who had been a father to all who -surrounded him; but there, in the little hall, was collected, in the -persons of the surgeons, the priest, and the lawyer, attendant upon -the dying man, as merry a party as it had ever contained. The hall, -though it was called little, was only so comparatively; for its size -was sufficient to make the table at which the feasters sat look like a -speck in the midst. Nevertheless, it was well lighted; and St. Real -and his royal companion, as they entered, could plainly see the man of -law holding up a brimming Venice glass of rich wine to one of his two -shrewd eyes, while the hall was echoing to some potent jest that he -had just cast forth amongst his companions. Even the carver at the -buffet, and the serving man who was filling up the wine for the rest, -were shaking their well-covered sides at the joke; and the priest, -though repressing as far as possible the outward signs of merriment, -was palating the <i>bon mot</i> with a sly smile, and had perhaps a covert -intention of using it himself secondhand, whenever he could find -occasion. For a minute or two the party at the table did not perceive -the entrance of any other persons, or concluded that those who did -enter were servants; and their conversation went on in the same light -tone which had evidently predominated up to that moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon, however, as St. Real and his guest appeared, matters assumed -a different aspect; and solemn ceremony and respect took the place of -merriment. Seats were soon placed; and Henry, while engaged in -satisfying the hunger that a long day's journey had occasioned, failed -not by some gay and sportive observations to bring back a degree of -cheerfulness: but the natural frank liveliness of the King's heart was -controlled, or rather oppressed, by many an anxious thought for -himself, and by feelings of kindly and sincere sympathy with the young -noble who sat beside him. St. Real, on his part, did not affect to -feel aught but deep anxiety; and, after their entrance, the merriment -of the party in the hall was very much sobered down from its previous -elevated tone, giving way, indeed, in the breasts of the lawyer and -the surgeons, to many a shrewd conjecture in regard to the profession -and object of their new comrade Maitre Jacques.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, the page stood where St. Real and the King had left -him, supporting himself against the table in an attitude of much -grace, but one which spoke deep and somewhat melancholy thought. His -head leaned upon his bosom, his hand fell listlessly by his side, his -eyes strained with the deep and intense gaze of anxious meditation -upon one unmeaning spot of the marble floor; and thus, without the -slightest motion, he continued so long in the same position, that he -might have been taken for some fanciful statue tricked out in the gay -dress of that time, had not every now and then a deep sigh broke from -his bosom, and evinced the conscious presence of life and all its -ills.</p> - -<p class="normal">Near a quarter of an hour elapsed without his taking the slightest -notice of the lapse of time. The steps of his new master and the -prince had long ceased to sound through the passages, other noises had -made themselves heard and died away again; but the youth remained -apparently unconscious of everything but some peculiar and absorbing -facts in his own situation. His reverie was, however, at length -disturbed, but apparently not unexpectedly, though the stealthy step -and silent motions with which the dwarf Bartholo advanced into the -room in which the youth stood, had brought him near before the other -was aware of his presence. For a moment after their eyes had met -neither spoke, though there was much meaning in the glance of each; -and at length the youth made a silent motion of his hand towards the -door. The sign was obeyed at once; and the dwarf, closing the door -cautiously, returned with a quick step, suddenly bent one knee to the -ground, and kissed the hand the boy extended towards him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, Bartholo," he said, receiving this somewhat extraordinary -greeting as a thing of course, "so! you see that I am here at length!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do," replied the dwarf, rising; "but for what object you are come I -cannot conceive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For many objects," answered the youth; "but one sufficient to myself, -is that I am near those that I wish to be near; and can watch their -actions--perhaps see into their thoughts. If I could but make myself -sure that St. Real really loves the girl! that were worth all the -trouble."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the risk! the risk!" exclaimed the dwarf.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The risk is nothing, if my people are faithful to me," answered the -youth sharply; "and woe be to them if they are not! Why came you not as -I commanded, but left me to wait and wander in the neighbourhood of -Beaumont, and nearly be taken by a party of reitters, in the pay of -Mayenne?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I could not come," answered the dwarf; "for I was sent to seek a -chirurgeon from Tours for the old man, who lies at the point of death. -I made what haste I could; but missed you, and could not overtake you -till you had nearly reached the chateau."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And is the old Marquis, then, so near the end of a long good life?" -asked the youth. "There are some men whose deeds are so full of -immortality, that we can scarce fancy even their bodies shall become -food for worms. But so it must be with the best as well as with the -worst of us."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even so!" answered the dwarf; "but as to this old man, I have not -seen him with my own eyes for this many a day; but the report runs in -the castle that he cannot long survive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His death would come most inopportunely for all my plans," replied -the youth; "it would place me in strange circumstances: and yet I -would dare them, for I have passed through still stranger without -fear. I feel my own heart strong--ay, even in its weakness; and I will -not fear. Nevertheless, see you obey my orders better. You should have -sent some other on your errand, and not have left me to the mercy of a -troop of reitters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Crying your mercy," said the dwarf, with a significant grin, "I -should have thought that your late companion might have proved as -dangerous."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dare you be insolent to me, sir?" cried the youth, fixing his -full dark eye sternly on the dwarf. "But, no; I know you dare -not, and you know me too well to dare. But you are wrong. Whatever -may be the faults of Harry of Navarre--all reprobate heretic as he -is--nevertheless he is free from every ungenerous feeling; and -although I might think I saw a glance of recognition in his eyes, yet -I harbour not a fear that he will betray me or make any ill use of his -knowledge, even if he have remembered me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you aware, however," asked the dwarf, lowering his voice and -dropping his eyes--"are you aware that the Count d'Aubin is here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no!" cried the youth, starting. "No, no! Where--where do you -mean? I know that he is in Maine, but surely not here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In this very house," answered the dwarf--"in the great hall, not a -hundred yards from the spot where we now stand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said the other, musing. "Indeed! I knew that he was near, -and that we should soon meet; but I did not think to find him here. -Look at me, Bartholo! look at me well! Think you that he would -recognise me? Gold, and embroidery, and courtly fashions, are all laid -aside; and I might be taken for the son of a mechanic, or, at best, -for the child of some inferior burgher."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I knew you at once!" answered the page emphatically.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes; but that is different," replied he whom we shall take the -liberty of calling by the name he had given himself, although that -name, it need scarcely be said, was assumed; "but that is different," -replied Leonard de Monte. "You were prepared to know me; but I think -that I am secure with all others. Why, when I look in the mirror, I -hardly know myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">The dwarf gazed over the person of him who was evidently his real -master, however he might, for some unexplained purposes, affect to be -in the service of others--and after a moment, he replied, with a shrug -of the shoulders, "It may be so indeed. Dusty, and travel-soiled, and -changed, perhaps he would not know you; and were you to put on a high -fraise, instead of that falling collar, it would make a greater -difference still in your appearance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quick! get me one, then" cried the youth; "I will pass before him for -an instant this very night, that his eye may become accustomed to the -sight, and memory be lulled to sleep. See, too, that all be prepared -for me to lodge as you know I would."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have already marked out a chamber," answered the dwarf, "and have -curried favour with the major-domo, so that he will readily grant it -to the new page at my request."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is it?" demanded the youth. "You know I am familiar with the -house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is," replied the dwarf, "one of the small chambers, with a little -ante-chamber, in the garden tower."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quick, then! Haste and ask it for me," exclaimed Leonard de Monte. -"The young lord bade me apply to you for what I needed; so you can -plead his order to the master of the chambers. Then bring me the -fraise speedily, ere I have time to think twice, and to waver in my -resolutions."</p> - -<p class="normal">With almost supernatural speed the dwarf did his errand, and returned, -bearing with him one of those stiff frills extended upon whalebone -which are to be seen in all the portraits of those days. The youth -instantly took it from his hand; and, concealing the falling collar of -lace, which was for a short period the height of the fashion at the -court of Henry III., and which certainly did not well accord with the -simplicity of the rest of his apparel, he tied the fraise round his -neck, and advanced to a small mirror in a silver frame that hung -against the arras. "Yes, that does better," he exclaimed--"that does -better. Now, what say you, Bartholo?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That you are safe," answered the page--"that I should not know you -myself, did I not hear your voice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, lead through the hall, if Philip of Aubin be there." -replied the youth; "and when I am in my chamber, bring me a wafer and -a cup of wine; for I am weary, and must seek rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">The dwarf opened the door, and led the way, conducting his young -companion across the great hall, up and down which the Count d'Aubin -was pacing slowly and thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who have you there, Bartholo?" demanded the young noble as they -passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only a page, my lord," replied the dwarf; and they walked on. The -Count looked at the page attentively; but not the slightest sign of -recognition appeared on his face; and, though the youth's steps -faltered a little with the apprehension of discovery, he quitted the -hall, satisfied that his disguise was not seen through. As soon as -they reached the door of the small chamber, which was to be -thenceforth his abode, Bartholo left him, to bring the refreshment he -had ordered; and as the dwarf passed by the door of the hall once -more, and heard the steps of the Count pacing up and down, he paused -an instant, as if undecided. "Shall I tell him?" he muttered between -his teeth, "shall I tell him, and blow the whole scheme to pieces? But -no, no, no; I should lose all, and with him it might have quite the -contrary effect. I must find another way;" and he walked on.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The Chevalier de St. Real, according to the ideas of hospitality -entertained in those days, pressed the King of Navarre to his food, -and urged the wine upon him; but scarcely had Henry's glass been -filled twice, ere the sound of steps hurrying hither and thither was -heard in the hall, and the young noble cast many an anxious look -towards the door. It opened at length, and an old servant entered, -who, approaching the chair of his young lord, whispered a few words in -his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said St. Real; "I had hoped his sleep would have lasted -longer. How seems he now, Duverdier?--is he refreshed by this short -repose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot say I think it, sir," replied the servant; "but he asks -anxiously for you, and we could not find you in the hall."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come," answered St. Real; and then turning to the King, he added, -"My father's short rest is at an end, and I will now tell him of your -visit, sir. Doubtless he will gladly see you, as there is none he -respects more deeply."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go! go! my young lord," cried Henry; "I will wait you here, with -these good gentlemen. Let me be no restraint upon you. Yet tell your -father, my good lord, that my business is such as presses a man's -visits on his friends even at hours unseasonable, else would I not ask -to see him when he is ill and suffering."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young lord of St. Real bowed his head and quitted the apartment; -while Henry remained with the other guests, whose curiosity was not a -little increased in regard to who this Maitre Jacques could be, by the -great reverence which seemed paid to him. They had soon an opportunity -of expressing their curiosity to each other, in the absence of the -object thereof; for in a very few minutes the Chevalier of St. Real -returned, and besought Henry to "<i>honour</i> his father's chamber with -his presence." The King followed with a smile; and when the door of -the little hall was closed behind them, laid his hand upon St. Real's -arm, saying, "You are no good actor, my young friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid not," replied St. Real, in a tone from which he could not -banish the sadness occasioned by his father's illness; "yet I trust -what I said may in no degree betray your Majesty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," answered Henry, "I dare say not; and should you see any -suspicions, St. Real, you must either--in penance for having shown too -much reverence for a king, in an age when kings are out of all -respect--you must either keep these gentry close prisoners here till I -have reached Tours, and thence made a two-days' journey Paris-ward, or -you must give me a guard of fifty men to push my way through as far as -Chartres."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It shall be which your Majesty pleases," replied St. Real; "but here -is my father's chamber."</p> - -<p class="normal">The spot where they stood was situated half way up a long passage -traversing the central part of the chateau of St. Real, narrow, low, -and unlighted during the day by anything but two small windows, one at -each extreme. At present two or three lamps served to show the way to -the apartments of the sick man, at the small low-framed doorway of -which stood an attendant, as if stationed for the purpose of giving or -refusing admittance to those who came to visit the suffering noble. -The servant instantly threw back the plain oaken boards, clasped -together by bands of iron, which served as a door, and the next moment -Henry found himself in the ante-chamber of the sick man's room. The -interior of the apartment into which he was now admitted was much -superior in point of comfort to that which one might have expected -from the sight of such an entrance. The ante-chamber was spacious, -hung with rich though gloomy arras, and carpeted with mats of fine -rushes. One or two beds were laid upon the ground for the old lord's -attendants; and on many a peg, thrust through the arras, hung trophies -of war or of the chase, together with several lamps and sconces which -cast a considerable light into the room. The chamber beyond was kept -in a greater degree of obscurity, though the light was still -sufficient to show the King, as he passed through the intermediate -doorway, the faded form of the old Marquis of St. Real, lying in a -large antique bed of green velvet, with one thin and feeble hand -stretched out upon the bed-clothes. At the bolster was placed one of -those old-fashioned double-seated chairs which are now so seldom seen, -even as objects of antiquarian research; and, from one of the two -places which it afforded, an attendant of the sick rose up as Henry -entered, and glided away into the ante-room. St. Real paused and -closed the door between the two chambers; and Henry, advancing, took -the vacant seat, and kindly laid his hand upon that of his sick -friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why how now, lord Marquis?" he said, in a feeling but cheerful tone; -"how now? this is not the state in which I hoped to find you. But, -faith, I must have you better soon, for I would fain see you once more -at the head of your followers."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis of St. Real shook his head, with a look which had neither -melancholy nor fear in its expression, but which plainly conveyed his -conviction that he was never destined to lead followers to the field -again, or rise from the bed on which he was then stretched. Nor, -indeed, although the young monarch spoke cheerful hopes--did he -entertain any expectations equal to his words. The Marquis of St. Real -was more than eighty years of age; and though his frame had been one -of great power, and in his eyes there was still beaming the light of a -fine heart and active mind, yet time had bowed him long before, and -many a past labour and former hardship in the Italian wars had broken -the staff of his strength, and left him to fall before the first -stroke of illness. Sickness had come at length, and now all the powers -of life were evidently failing fast. The features of his face had -grown thin and sharp; his temples seemed to have fallen in; and over -his whole countenance--which in his green old age had been covered -with the ruddy hue of health--was now spreading fast the grey ashy -colour of the grave.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your Majesty is welcome!" he said, in a low, faint voice, which -obliged Henry to bend his head in order to catch the sounds; "but I -must not hope, either for your Majesty or any one else, to set lance -in the rest again. I doubt not," he continued, after a momentary -pause--"I doubt not that you have thought me somewhat cold-hearted and -ungrateful, after many favours received at your hands, and at those of -your late noble mother, that I have not long before this espoused the -cause of those whom I think unjustly persecuted. But I trust that you -have not come to reproach me with what I have not done, but rather to -show me now how I can serve you in my dying hour; without, however, -even then forgetting the allegiance I owe to the crown of France, and -my duty to her monarch."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To reproach you I certainly have not come, my noble friend," answered -Henry; "for I have ever respected your scruples, though I may have -thought them unfounded. Nevertheless, what I have now to tell you will -put those scruples to an end at once and for ever. The cause of Henry -of Navarre and of Henry III. of France are now about to be united. My -good brother-in-law, the King, has written to me for aid----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To you!--to you!" exclaimed the Marquis, raising his head feebly, and -speaking with a tone of much surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, even to me," answered Henry. "He found that he had misused a -friend too long, that too long he had courted enemies; and, wise at -length, he is determined to call around him those who really wish well -to him and to our country, and to use against his foes that sword they -have so long mocked in safety. I am now on my way to join him with all -speed, while my friends and the army follow more slowly. As I -advanced, I could not resist the hope that enticed me hither--the hope -that, when justice, and friendship, and loyalty are all united upon -our side, the Marquis of St. Real, to whom justice, and friendship, -and loyalty were always dear, will no longer hesitate to give us that -great support which his fortune, his rank, his renown, and his -retainers enable him so well to afford."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When Henry of Navarre lends his sword to Henry of France, how should -I dream of refusing my poor aid to both?" answered the Marquis. "When -<i>you</i> refuse not to serve an enemy, sir, how should <i>I</i> refuse to -serve a friend? But my own services are over. This world and I, like -two old friends at the end of a long journey, are just shaking hands -before we part; but I leave behind me one that may well supply my -place. Huon, my dear son, are you there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am here, sir," said the young lord, advancing: "what is your will, -my father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My son, I am leaving you," replied the Marquis. "I shall never quit -this bed; another sun will never rise and set for me. I leave you in -troublous times, Huon, in times of difficulty and of sorrow; but that -which now smoothes my pillow at my dying hour, and makes the last -moments of life happy, is the fearless certainty that, come what may, -my son will live and die worthy of the name that he inherits; and will -find difficulty and danger but steps to honour and renown. So long as -injustice stained the royal cause, and cruelty and tyranny drove many -a noble heart to revolt, I would take no part in the dissensions that -have torn our unhappy land; though God knows I have often longed to -draw the sword in behalf of the oppressed; but now that the crown -calls to its aid those it once persecuted, in order to put an end to -faction and strife, my scruples are gone, and, were not life gone too, -none would sooner put his foot in the stirrup than I. But those days -are past; and on you, my son, must devolve the task. A few hours now, -and I shall be no more; yet I will not seek to command you how to act -when I am gone. Your own heart has ever been a good and faithful -monitor. Let me, however, counsel you to seek the Duke of Mayenne ere -you draw the sword against him. Show him your purposes and your -motives; and tell him that he may be sure those who have been neutral -will now become his enemies--those who have been his friends will -daily fall from him, unless he follow the dictates of loyalty and -honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man paused, and a slight smile curled the lip of Henry of -Navarre. His nature, however, was too frank to let anything which -might pass for a sneer remain unexplained; and he said, "You know not -these factious Guises well enough, my friend. They strike for -dominion; and that game must be a hopeless one indeed, which they -would not play to gratify their ambition. But let your son seek -Mayenne! More! If he will, let him not decide whose cause he will -espouse till he have heard all the arguments which faction can bring -to colour treason. I fear not. Strong in the frank uprightness of a -good cause, and confident both of his honesty and clear good sense, I -will trust to his own judgment, when he has heard all with his own -ears. Let him call together what followers he can; let him march them -upon Paris; and, under a safe conduct from the Duke and from the King, -visit both camps alike. True, that with Henry of Valois he will find -much to raise disgust and contempt; but there, too, he will find the -only King of France, and with him all that is loyal in the land. With -Mayenne, and his demagogues of the Sixteen, he will find faction, -ambition, injustice, and fanaticism and I well know which a St. Real -must choose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Frank, noble, and confiding, ever, sire!" said the Marquis, "nor with -us will your reliance prove vain. Oh, that we had a King like you! How -few hearts then could, by any arts, be estranged from the throne!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," said Henry, smiling, "you forget that I am a heretic, my -good lord--a Huguenot--a <i>maheutre!</i> They would soon find means to -corrupt the base, and to persuade the weak against me, were I King of -France to-morrow--which God forfend!--and, by my faith, were I a great -valuer of that strange thing, life, I should look for poison in my -cup, or a dagger in my bosom at every hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet, my lord, you are going to trust yourself where daggers have -lately been somewhat too rife," said the Chevalier de St. Real; "and -that, too--if I understood you rightly--with but a small escort."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As small as may be," answered the King, "consisting, indeed, of but -this one faithful friend, who has never yet proved untrue;" and he -laid his finger on the hilt of his sword, adding, gaily, "but no fear, -no fear: my cousin brother-in-law could have no earthly motive in -killing me but to make Mayenne King of France, which, by my faith, he -seeks not to do. He knows me too well, also, to think that I would -injure him, even if I could; and, perhaps, finds now, that by making -head against the Guises, and their accursed League, I have been -serving him ever, though against his will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would it not be better, my lord," asked the old man, in a feeble -voice--"would it not be better to wait till you are accompanied by -your own troops?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no," replied Henry; "Mayenne presses him hard. He is himself -dispirited, his troops are more so. Still more of the <i>Spanish -catholicon</i>--I mean Spanish mercenaries--are likely to be added to the -forces of the League; and I fear that, if some means be not taken to -keep up his courage, more speedily than could be accomplished by the -march of my forces, he may cast himself upon the mercy of the enemy, -and France be lost for ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Duke of Guise went as confidently to Blois as your Majesty to -Tours," said the Chevalier; "and the Duke of Guise was called a -friend: you have been looked on as an enemy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But Guise was a traitor," answered Henry, "and met with treachery, as -a traitor may well expect. He went confiding alone in his own courage, -but knowing that his own designs were evil. I go, confiding both in -myself and in my honesty; and well knowing, that in all France there -is not one man who has just cause to wish that Henry of Navarre were -dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has violated his safe conduct more than once," said the Marquis, -"and may violate it again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will not be in my person, then," answered the King; "for safe -conduct have I none, but his own letter, calling for my aid in time of -need. Two drops of my blood, I do believe, spilled on that letter, -would raise a flame therewith in every noble bosom that would set half -the land a-fire. But I fear not: kings have no right to fear. My -honesty is my breastplate, my good friend; and the steel must be sharp -indeed that will not turn its edge on that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the hand must be backward indeed," said the Marquis, "that would -refuse its aid to such a heart. However, my lord, I give you my -promise, and I am sure that my son will give you his, that the -followers of St. Real shall be in the field within a month from this -very night. Willingly, too, would we promise that they should join the -royal cause; but, it is better, perhaps, as you have offered, that he -who leads them should go free, till he shall have spoken his feelings -freely to the leaders of the League."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it! so be it, then!" answered Henry. "I apprehend no change of -feeling towards me. My cause is that of justice, of loyalty, and of -France. So long as I opposed your king in arms, I could hardly hope -that a St. Real would join me, however great the private friendship -might be between us; but, now that his cause is mine, and that the -sword once drawn to withstand his injustice is drawn to uphold his -throne, I know I shall meet no refusal. But I weary you, lord -Marquis," he continued, rising; "and, good faith, I owe you no small -apology for troubling you with such matters at such a time. Yet, I -will trust," he added, laying his hand once more on that of the sick -man--"yet I will trust that this is not our last meeting by very many, -and that I shall soon hear of you in better health."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Marquis shook his head. "My lord," he said, "I am a dying man; and -though, perhaps, were the choice left to us, I would rather have died -on the battle-field, serving with the last drops of my old blood some -noble cause: yet, I fear not death, even here in my bed; where, to -most men, he is more terrible. I have lived, I trust, well enough not -to dread death; and I have, certainly, lived long enough to be weary -of life. For the last ten years--though they have certainly been years -of such health and strength as few old men ever know--yet, I have -daily found some fine faculty of this wonderful machine in which we -live, yielding to the force of time. The ear has grown heavy and the -eye grown dim, my lord; the sinews are weak and the joints are stiff. -Thank Heaven! the great destroyer has left the mind untouched: but it -is time that it should be separated from the earth to which it is -joined, and go back to God, who sent it forth. Fare you well, sir; and -Heaven protect you! The times are evil in which your lot is cast; but -if ever I saw a man who was fitted to bring evil times to good, it is -yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fare you well! fare you well, my good old friend!" answered Henry, -grasping his hand; "and though I be a Huguenot, doubt not, St. Real, -that we shall meet again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I doubt it not, my lord," replied the old man, "I doubt it not; and, -till then, God protect your Majesty!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Henry echoed the prayer, and quitted the sick man's chamber, followed -by the young lord of St. Real. He suffered not his attendance long, -however; but, retiring at once to rest, drank the sleeping cup with -his young friend, and sent him back to the chamber of his father. He -had judged, and had judged rightly, that the end of the old Marquis of -St. Real was nearer than his son anticipated. After the King had left -his chamber, he was visited by the surgeon and the priest, and then -again slept for several hours. When he awoke there was no one but his -son by his bed-side, and he gazed upon him with a smile, which made -the young lord believe that he felt better.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you more at ease, my father?" asked the young man, with reviving -hopes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am quite at ease, my dear Huon," replied his father. "I had hoped -that in that sleep I should have passed away; but, by my faith, I will -turn round and try again, for I am drowsy still." Thus saying, he -turned, and once more closing his eyes, remained about an hour in -sweet and tranquil slumber. At the end of that time, his son, who -watched him anxiously, heard a slight rustle of the bedclothes. He -looked nearer, but all was quiet, and his father seemed still asleep. -There was no change either in feature or in hue; but still there was -an indescribable something in the aspect of his parent that made the -young man's heart beat painfully. He gazed upon the quiet form before -him--he listened for the light whisper of the breath; but all was -still--the throbbing of the heart was over, the light of life had gone -out! St. Real was glad that he was alone; for, had any other eye than -that of Heaven been upon him, he might not have given way to those -feelings which would have been painful to restrain. As it was, he wept -for some time in solitude and silence; and then, calling the -attendants, proceeded to fulfil all those painful offices towards the -deceased which in those days were sadly multiplied. When these were -finished, the morning light was shining into the dull chamber of the -dead; and St. Real, retiring to his own apartments, sent to announce -his loss to his cousin and to the King of Navarre. The first instantly -joined him, and offered such consolation as he thought most likely to -soothe his cousin's mind. Henry of Navarre, however, was not in his -chamber; and, on further inquiry, it was found that he had taken his -departure with the first ray of the morning light.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A month and some days succeeded--full of events important to France, -it is true, but containing nothing calculated to affect materially the -course of this history; and I shall, therefore, pass over in my -narrative that lapse of time without comment, changing the scene also -without excuse.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is in France a forest, in the heart of which I have spent many a -happy hour--which, approaching the banks of the small river Iton, -spreads itself out over a large tract of varied and beautiful ground -between Evreux and Dreux, sweeping round that habitation of melancholy -memories called Navarre, filled with the recollections of Turennes and -Beauharnois. Over a much greater extent of ground, however, than the -forest, properly so called, now occupies, large masses of thicket and -wood, with, occasionally, much more splendid remnants of the primeval -covering of earth, show how wide the forest of Evreux must have spread -in former years; and, in fact, the records of the times of which I -write compute the extreme length thereof at thirty-five French -leagues; while the breadth seems to have varied at different points -from five to ten miles.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the space thus occupied, was comprised almost every description of -scenery which a forest can display; hill and dell, rock and river, -with sometimes even a meadow or a corn-field presenting itself in -different parts of the wood, which was also traversed by two high -roads--the one leading from Touraine, and the other from Alenēon, -Caen, and the northern parts of Normandy. These high roads, however, -were, from the very circumstances of time, but little frequented; -for the eloquent words of Alexis Monteil, in describing the state -of France in the days of the League, afford no exaggerated -picture:--"France, covered with fortified towns, with houses, with -castles, with monasteries enclosed with walls within which no one -entered, and from which no one issued forth, resembled a great body -mailed, armed, and stretched lifeless on the earth."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, interest and necessity either lead or compel men to all -things; and along the line of the two high roads already mentioned -were scattered one or two villages and hamlets--the inhabitants of -which had little to lose--and a number of detached houses, the -proprietors of which were willing to risk a little in the hopes of -gaining much. The fronts of these houses, by the various signs and -inscriptions which they bore, gave notice to the wayfaring traveller, -sometimes that man and horse could be accommodated equally well within -those walls; sometimes that the human race could there find rest and -food, if unaccompanied by the four-footed companion whose greater -corporeal powers we have made subservient to our greater cunning. -According to the strict letter of the existing laws, we find that the -<i>auberge</i> for foot passengers was forbidden to lodge the equestrian, -and that the <i>auberge</i> for cavaliers had no right to receive the -traveller on foot. But these laws, like all other foolish ones, were -neglected or evaded in many instances; and he who could pay well for -his entertainment was, of course, very willingly admitted to the -mercenary hospitality of either the one or other class of inns, -whether he made use of the two identical feet with which nature had -provided him, or borrowed four more for either speed or convenience.</p> - -<p class="normal">Notwithstanding the turbulent elements which rendered every state of -life perilous in those days, the landlord of the <i>auberge</i>, however -isolated was his dwelling, did not, in fact, run so much risk as may -be supposed; for by a sort of common consent, proceeding from a -general conviction of the great utility of his existence, and the -comfort which all parties had at various times derived from his -ever-ready welcome, the innkeeper's dwelling was almost universally -exempt from pillage, except, indeed, in those cases where the party -spirit of the day had got the better of that interested moderation in -politics which is such a distinguishing feature of the class, and had -led him to espouse one of the fierce factions of the times with -somewhat imprudent vehemence. Nevertheless, it need hardly be said, -that between the several villages, and the several detached houses -which chequered the forest of Evreux, large spaces were left without -anything like a human habitation; and the traveller on either of the -two highways, or on any of the multifarious cross-roads which wandered -through the woods, might walk on for many a long and weary mile, -without seeing anything in the likeness of mankind. Perhaps, indeed, -he might think himself lucky if he did find it so; for--as there then -existed three or four belligerent parties in France, besides various -bodies who took advantage of the discrepancy of other people's -opinions upon most subjects, to assert their own ideas of property at -the point of the sword--there was every chance that, in any accidental -rencontre, the traveller would find the first person he met a great -deal more attached to the sword than to the olive branch.</p> - -<p class="normal">A little more than a month, then, after the funeral of the old Marquis -of St. Real, in a part of the forest where a few years before the axe -had been busy amongst the taller trees, there appeared a group of -several persons, two of whom have already been introduced to the -notice of the reader. The spot in which they were seated was a small -dry grassy strip of meadow by the side of a clear little stream, which -at a hundred yards distance crossed the high road from Touraine. From -the bank of the stream the ground rose very gradually for some way, -leaving a space of perhaps fifty yards in breadth free of underwood or -bush. It then took a bolder sweep, and became varied with manifold -trees and shrubs; and then, breaking into rock as it swelled upwards, -it towered into a high and craggy hill, diversified with clumps of the -fine tall beeches which the axe had spared, and clothed thickly, -wherever the soil admitted it, with rich underwood, springing up from -the roots of larger trees long felled. On the other side again, the -ground sloped away so considerably, that had the stream flowed -straight on, it would have formed a cataract; and as the eye rested on -the clear water, winding in a thousand turns within a very short -distance of the edge of the descent, and seeming to seek a way over -without being able to find it, one felt as we do in gazing upon a -child in a meadow looking for something it has lost, which we -ourselves see full well, yet cannot resolve to point out, lest the -little seeker should desist from all the graceful vagaries of his -search. Various bends and knolls, however, confined the rivulet to the -course it had taken; but still the whole ground on that side was low, -and at one point sunk much beneath the spot where the travellers -before mentioned were seated, affording--over the green tree-tops--a -beautiful view of a long expanse of varied ground, lying sweet in the -misty light of summer, with many a wide and undulating sweep, fainter -and more faint, till some grey spires marked the position of a distant -town, and cut the line of the horizon.</p> - -<p class="normal">The party here assembled consisted of five persons: the first of whom -was the page already described under the name of Leonard de Monte, and -who, now stretched upon the ground, seemed making a light repast, -while the dwarf Bartholo, standing beside him, filled a small horn cup -with wine from a gourd he carried, and presented it to the young -Italian with a low inclination of the head. The other three personages -who made up the group were evidently servants. The colours of their -dress, however, were very different from those of the Marquis of St. -Real, and they were also armed up to the teeth, though their garb -bespoke them the followers of some private individual, and not -soldiers belonging to any of the parties which then divided the land. -Besides the human denizens of the scene, five horses were browsing the -forest grass at a little distance. Three of these were equipped with -saddles; while two still bore about them the rough harness, if harness -it could be called, by means of which they had been attached to a -small vehicle, somewhat between a carriage and a car, which, with its -leathern curtains and its wicker frame, might be seen peeping out from -amongst the bushes hard by.</p> - -<p class="normal">While the page concluded his repast, two of the servants--the other -seemed the driver of the carriage--stood behind him with their arms -folded on their bosoms, but still in an attitude so common in those -times of trouble as to have found its way into most of the pictures -which have come down from that epoch to the present. The same movement -which crossed the right and left arms over the chest had easily -brought the hilt of the sword, and the part of the broad belt in which -it hung, up from the haunch to the breast, where the weapon was -supported by the pressure of the left arm and the right hand, and was -ever ready for service at a moment's notice. The youth, however, who -was the principal person of the party, and the dwarf, who seemed to -ape his demeanour, wore their swords differently, following the -extravagant court fashion of the day, and throwing the weapon which, -in those times, might be needed at every instant, so far behind them, -that the hilt was concealed by the short cloak then worn, and would -have been out of the reach of any but a very dexterous hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">When the page had concluded his repast, he wiped his dagger on the -grass, and returned it to the sheath; and then, making the dwarf -mingle some water from the stream with the wine he offered, he asked, -ere he drank, "Are you sure, Bartholo, right sure, that we have passed -them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certain! quite certain!" answered the dwarf; "unless, noble----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush!" cried the youth, holding up his hand impetuously; "have I not -told thee to forget, even when we are alone, that I am any other than -Leonard the page. Some day thou wilt betray me; and, by my troth, thou -shalt repent it if thou dost. Go on! go on! What wert thou saying?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, then, Signor Leonard," answered the dwarf, with his usual -sardonic grin; "but that I am certain we have passed them, quite -certain: for I saw each day's march laid down before they set out; and -though we were two days behind them, and had to take a round of ten -leagues to avoid their route, yet we have done five leagues more than -they each day that we have travelled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, well!" said the youth; "dine, and make these varlets -dine. If I am in Paris three days before them, it is enough. Yet lose -no time; for I would fain be on far enough to-night to be beyond their -utmost <i>fourriers</i> ere I stay to rest. I go up yon hill to look over -this woody world. When all is ready, whistle, and I will come." Thus -saying, he turned away with a slow step, and, climbing the banks, was -quickly lost amongst the trees and underwood.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as he was gone, the dwarf beckoned to the servants; and, -making them sit down beside him on the grass, did the honours of the -feast, but still taking care to maintain that air of superiority with -which a master might be supposed to portion out their meal to his -domestics, on some of those accidental expeditions which level, for -the time, many of the distinctions of rank. The servants, too, -submitted to this sort of assumption as a matter of course; and though -the eye of each might be caught running over the diminutive limbs of -the dwarf with a glance in which the contempt of big things for little -was scarcely kept down by habitual deference, yet, in their general -demeanour, they preserved every sort of respect for their small -companion, keeping a profound silence in his presence, and treating -him with every mark of reverence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Scarcely had they concluded their meal, however, and were in the act -of yawning at the horses they were about to harness, when the rustling -of the bushes on the hillside, and the fall of a few stones, gave -notice of the approach of some living being. The moment after, the -light and graceful form of their young master appeared, bounding down -the slope like a scared deer, with his cheek flushed, and all the -flashing eagerness of haste and surprise sparkling in his dark eye. -"Quick!" he cried, as he came up, "quick as lightning! Draw the -carriage into that brake, and lead the horses in amongst the bushes. -Scatter as far as possible, and come not hither again till you hear my -horn."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the carriage!" cried the dwarf, looking towards the spot to which -the page pointed--"the brake is deep and uneven."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must get it out afterwards as best we may," replied the youth; "do -as you are bid, and make haste! They are not half a mile from us, when -I thought they were leagues. I saw them coming up, on the other side -of the hill, and they will be here in five minutes. Quick! quick as -lightning, Bartholo!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The dwarf and his companions obeyed at once, and in a few moments the -carriage was drawn into a woody brake that completely concealed it -from view; the horses were led into the forest; Bartholo betook -himself one way, and the attendants another; and their young lord, -climbing the hill, sought himself out a place amongst the shrubs and -larger trees, where he could see all that passed upon the high road, -without running any risk of being seen himself. A quick and impatient -spirit, however, gauging all things by its own activity, had, as is -often the case, deceived him as to the movements of others; and -instead of five minutes, which was the utmost space that his -imagination had allowed for the arrival of the persons he had beheld, -full half an hour had elapsed ere any one appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, the trampling of horses sounded along the road; -and the moment after, winding round from the other side of the hill, -was seen a party of six horsemen, each bearing in his hand a short -matchlock, with a lighted match, while three other weapons of the same -kind hung round at the different corners of the steel saddle with -which every horse was furnished. After a short interval, another small -party appeared; and, succeeding them again, might be seen, first -moving along above the interposing shoulder of the hill, and then upon -the open road, the dancing plumes of a large body of officers and -gentlemen, in the midst of whom rode the young Marquis of St. Real, -and his cousin, the Count d'Aubin. The eyes of Leonard de Monte fixed -eagerly upon that party, and followed its movements for many a minute, -till a new bend of the road concealed it from his sight; and he turned -to gaze upon the strong body of troops that then appeared. Two -companies of infantry, each consisting of two hundred men, came next; -and a gay and pleasant sight it was to see them pass along with their -shining steel morions, and tall plumes, and rich apparel, in firm -array and regular order, but all gay and cheerful, and singing as they -went. Amongst them, but in separate bands, appeared the various sorts -of foot soldiers then common in France; the musketeer with his long -gun upon his shoulder, and the steel-pointed fork, or rest, used to -assist his aim in discharging his piece, while, together with the -broad leathern belt which supported his long and heavy sword, hung the -innumerable small rolls of leather, in which the charges for his -musket were deposited. The ancient pikeman, too, was there, with his -long pike rising over the weapons of the other soldiers, and one or -two bodies of arquebusiers, armed with a lighter and less cumbersome, -but even more antique kind of musket, here and there chequered the -ranks. A troop of cavalry, still stronger in point of numbers, -succeeded, consisting of two companies of men-at-arms, which old -privileges permitted the two houses of St. Real and D'Aubin to raise -for the service of the crown, and of about four hundred of more -lightly armed horse of that description which, from having been first -introduced from Germany and Flanders, had acquired the name of -reitters, even when the regiment was composed entirely of Frenchmen. -The first body contained none but men of noble birth, and consisted -principally of young gentlemen attached to the two great houses who -raised it. Each carried his lance, to which weapon the men-at-arms of -that day clung with peculiar tenacity, as a vestige of that ancient -chivalry which people felt was rapidly passing away before improved -science, but from which they did not like to part. Each also was -splendidly armed; and gold and polished steel made their horses shine -in the sunbeams.</p> - -<p class="normal">The reitters, however, were more simply clothed, and were composed of -such persons from the wealthier part of the <i>classe bourgeoise</i> as the -love of arms, the distinctions generally affixed to military life, or -feudal attachment to any particular house, brought from the very -insecure tranquillity then afforded by their paternal dwellings, to -the open struggle of the field. This corps, however, was not -distinguished by the lance: a long and heavy sword, which did terrible -execution in the succeeding wars, together with a number of pistols, -each furnished with a rude flint lock, composed the offensive arms of -the reitter. His armour, too, and his horse were both somewhat lighter -than those of the man-at-arms; but his movements were, in consequence, -more easy, and his march less encumbered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole body wound slowly on with very little disarray Of confusion, -till, one by one, the several bands turned the angle of the wood, and -disappeared in the distant forest. A few scattered parties followed; -then a few stragglers, and then all was left to solitude, while -nothing but a cloudy line of dust, rising up above the green covering -of the trees, and two or three notes of the trumpet, told that such a -force was near, or marked the road it took. Leonard de Monte gazed -from the place of his concealment upon each party as it passed, and -then waited for several minutes, listening with attentive ear till -the trumpet sounded so faintly that it was evident his own small -hunting-horn might be winded unheard by the retiring squadrons. He -descended, however, in the first instance, to the bank of the stream -where he had been previously sitting, and then gave breath to a few -low notes, as of a huntsman recalling his dogs. The sounds were heard -by his attendants, and instantly obeyed. The horses were led forth -from the wood; and, while the two servants bestirred themselves to -draw out the carriage from the brake in which it had been concealed, -the youth beckoned the dwarf towards him, demanding--"Now, Bartholo! -now! what think you of this?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I think it a very silly trick, sir," replied the dwarf: "I could -forgive a raw youth like the Marquis for leading his men through such -a wood as this; but how an experienced soldier, like my good lord the -Count, could let him do it, I cannot fancy. Why, the League might have -taken them all like quails in a falling net!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are wrong," said the youth; "you are wrong, Bartholo. He knows -full well that the League, close cooped in Paris, have not men to -spare, and that Longueville and La Noue keep Aumale in check near -Compeigne. St. Real is no bad soldier. At least, so I have heard. But -it was not of that I spoke. What are we to do now? You told me that -they were a day behind, and now they are right on the road before us. -They must have changed their route. What must we do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, we must turn back," answered the dwarf, calmly; "and then at -Dreux seek out the <i>maītre des postes</i>, leave these slow brutes behind -us, and on to Paris with all the speed we can."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But should there be no horses?" said the youth, "as was the case at -La Fleche; what must we do then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, beyond all doubt, we shall find horses there," the dwarf replied; -"and if the post be broken up, we can but apply to the master of -relais, whose horses will take us on for fifteen leagues, while these -tired brutes will scarce carry us to Dreux: better go with beasts that -have dragged a cart, than halt half way on the road."<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">The youth paused and pondered; and though his intention was at first -directed to the exertions of the servants with the carriage, yet the -moment after, his glance began to stray abstractedly over the forest; -and it is more than probable that his thoughts wandered much farther -than the mere trifling embarrassment in which he found himself; for -his brow became clouded and melancholy, his lip quivered, and his eye, -which was now again straining vacantly upon the grass, seemed as if it -would willingly have harboured a tear. The dwarf gazed at him -earnestly with his quick black eyes, while the habitual sneer upon his -lip seemed mingled with other feelings, which somewhat changed its -character, but rendered it not less dark and keen. Whatever were his -own thoughts, however, he seemed perfectly to comprehend that his -young lord's mind had run beyond the situation of the moment. "You are -sorry you undertook it at all!" he said, keeping his eyes still fixed -upon the face of the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out, knave!" cried Leonard de Monte, turning sharply upon him. "Out! -Did you ever know me hesitate in a pursuit that I had once determined, -or regret a deed when once it was done? Firm in myself, I am firm to -myself, and, whether good or ill happens, I never regret. No, no; -think you that I am such a fool or such a child as to start from the -first trifling obstacle? To whimper, because I am forced to lie on a -hard bed, or fly off indignant because some saucy serving-man breaks -his jest upon <i>the page?</i> No, no! I was thinking of my father's house, -and of a picture there which some skilful hand had painted of just -such a scene as this. There was the little sparkling stream, and -there a sweet and tranquil grassy bank like that, with the bright -sunshine--even as it does now--streaming through the bushes, and -touching the rounded turf with gold. Often, very often, have I stood -and gazed upon that landscape, and my fancy has rendered the dull -canvass instinct with life. I have dreamed that I could see through -those groves, or climb the hill, and wander amongst the rocks; and in -infancy--that time of happy hearts--imagination, as I stood and -looked, has shaped me out a little paradise in such a scene as that. -The palace and its cold splendour has faded away around me, and I have -fancied myself wandering in the midst of Nature's beauties, with -beings as bright and as ideal as my dream: and now, Bartholo--and -now--what are all those visions now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The dwarf cast his eyes to the ground, and for a moment, a single -moment, the cynical smile passed away from his lip. "You," he -said--"you have made your fate! You have sought the bitter well from -which you are forced to drink. You have chosen sorrow, and the way to -sorrow; for the love of any human thing is but the high road thither, -and you must tread it to the end."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How now, sir!" cried the youth, proudly tossing back his head; -"school'st thou me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I school you not," answered the dwarf; "and less than all sought -to offend you. I would have given you consolation. I would have said -that you, for a great prize, had played a stake as weighty:--I mean -that knowingly, willingly, you had risked happiness for love; and, -seemingly having lost, are sorrowful; but still you have the -satisfaction of knowing that your fate has been your own deliberate -act."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would not that make it all the more painful, thou bitter medicine?" -asked the youth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so!" answered the dwarf, "not so! Think, what must be his -feelings who is <i>born</i> to disappointment and to scorn; whose heart may -be as fine as that which beats in the bosom of the lordliest warrior -in the land, and yet whose birthright is contempt, and degradation, -and slight; whose mind may be as bright as that of prelate, or of -lawgiver, and yet whose doom is to be despised and neglected? Think -what must be his feelings, who has no refuge from disappointment, but -in the hardness of despair; who has no warfare to wage against insult, -but by hurling back contempt and defiance!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry for thee, from my heart," answered the youth. "Indeed, I -am sorry for thee."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Your</i> pity I can bear," replied the dwarf, "because I believe it is -of a nobler kind; but the pity of this base degraded world is poison -to every wound in my heart. No more of myself, however," he added, -resuming at once his usual look; "I have spoken too long about myself -already. I cannot change my state, were I to reason on it till the sun -grew old and weary of shining; but you can do much to change yours; -and, in honesty, it were better to try a new plan, for this is a bad -one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Care not thou for that," replied the other; "its wisdom or its folly -rests upon me. Thou canst not say that there is either sin or crime -therein; and till then, be silent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You spoke of your father's house," still persevered the dwarf. "Why -not return thither, where now, since your uncle's death, peace, and -repose, and a princely fortune await you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Return thither!" replied the youth, with a sigh. "Return thither! and -for what? to find the voices I used to love silent; the forms that -used to cheer it gone; to see in every chamber a memorial of the dead, -and in each well-known object a new source for tears. Oh, no! I loved -that place once with love far beyond that which we give in general to -inanimate things; but it was because the living, and the good, and the -kind, were mingled up with every scene and every object; but now they -are gone: the fairy spell is broken; the rich gold turned dross; and -no place of all the earth is so painful in my sight as that--my -father's house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless," urged the dwarf somewhat anxiously; but the other went -on: "But that is not all, Bartholo," he said, "that is not all; though -that were fully enough. No, when I last saw my father's halls my bosom -was as light as air, and all the thoughts that filled it were as the -summer dreams of some sunny, happy child. Since then how many a bitter -lesson have I learned; how changed is the aspect of life, and fate, -and the world!--No, no! The sunshine that shone in my father's halls -is gone for ever--the sunshine of a happy heart; and I will carry back -with me a new star to light them, or never see them more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless," repeated the dwarf, "nevertheless--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No more in that tone!" interrupted the youth, "let me hear no more! -My resolutions are fixed beyond change. My fate is upon the die in my -hand, and I will cast it boldly, let the chance be what it will. Say -no more! for no more will I hear! Quick! hasten those laggards with -the horses, and let us begone: each word of opposition but makes me -the more eager to run my course to the end."</p> - -<p class="normal">The dwarfs lip curled into a more bitter smile than ever, but he made -no reply; and proceeded to obey the orders he had received to hasten -the preparations for departure. Those preparations were soon -concluded; for while the conversation detailed above had been -proceeding, the servants, with the aid of the horses, had dragged the -carriage out of the brake. With some difficulty, and some danger of -overturning it, it was at length brought to the high road. Leonard de -Monte entered; and, wrapping himself in a large cloak, cast himself -back with an air of gloomy thought. The rest mounted their horses, -and, as fast as the nature of the rude vehicle, and the state of the -roads would permit, the little cavalcade wound away towards Dreux, -leaving the forest once more to silence and solitude.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">In one of the old houses between the Louvre and the Place Royals, is -still preserved in its original state a fine antique saloon of the -times of Henry II. No gorgeous hall, no spacious vestibule, -impresses you at once with the grandeur of the mansion; but, winding -up a narrow and incommodious stair, you find yourself upon a small -landing-place, whence two steps--each the segment of a circle, and -both turning considerably, as if they had once formed part of a spiral -staircase--conduct you, through a deep but narrow passage in the wall, -to a door of black oak. On opening this, you find yourself at the -threshold of a room some two-and-thirty feet square, panelled with -dark and richly carved wood, and possessing a ceiling of the same. At -the farther end of the saloon, opposite to the door, is a deep recess, -or, rather, a sort of bay, at the entrance of which the floor rises -with a high step, forming a sort of little platform capable of -receiving a table and two or three chairs. From the distance of about -three feet and a half above the ground up to the ceiling, the greater -part of this recess or bay is of glass, with only just so much Gothic -stone and wood work as serves to support the large casements, which -afford the sole light of the room. The form which this projection -takes on the outside of the house presents three sides of a regular -octagon, and, in ornament and lightness, is not unlike one of the -windows of the new part of St. John's, Cambridge, though certainly not -near so beautiful as any part of that exquisite specimen of Gothic -architecture.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though, as I have said, from this window is derived the sole light -which the room possesses; nevertheless, that light is enough, -especially as the sunshine seems to regard that casement with -particular favour, and never fails to linger about it when the bright -beams visit earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the time to which we must now go back, the floors were not so -dingy, the oak was not so black, as they are at present; but the full -summer sunshine was pouring through the large oriel, chequering the -wood work of the raised flooring with the golden light of the rays and -the dark shadows of the leaden frames in which the glass was set. A -stand for embroidery appeared on the little platform; and before it -sat a lady plying the busy needle and the shining silks; while a maid, -seated near, read to her from a book--the Gothic characters of which -were fast merging into the round letters of the present day--and -another female attendant, a little farther off, followed the -industrious example of her mistress, and busied herself at her frame. -The principal person of the group was habited in deep mourning, which, -in the fashion of that day, was, perhaps, the most unbecoming dress -that the vanity of man ever permitted. The sombre hue of the garment -was relieved by nothing that could give lightness or grace; and the -heavy black veil, hanging from the head, seemed designed purposely to -cast a gloomy, unsoftened shadow over the face. But that lady was one -of those whom we see sometimes, and dream of often, so lovely by the -gift of nature, that art can do nothing either to add to the beauty or -diminish it; and she looked as transcendently lovely in the dark -wimple and the sable stole, as if she had been clad in jewels and in -lace. She was as fair as the morning star, with eyes of the deep, deep -blue of the evening sky, full and soft, and overhung with a long -fringe of jetty eyelashes, which sometimes made the eyes themselves -seem black. Her cheek bore the rosy hue of health, though the colour -was by no means deep, and was so softly diffused over her face, that -it was scarce possible to say where the warm tint of the cheek ended, -and the brilliant fairness of the forehead and temples began. The -features, too, were as lovely as if the brightest fancy and the most -skilful hand had combined to personify beauty; but they had nothing of -the cold, still harshness of the statue, and one looked long in -admiration ere one could pause to trace the graceful lines that went -to form so fair a whole. The form was in no way unworthy of the face; -and even the stiff, heavy folds of the mourning robe were forced into -graceful falls by the symmetry of the limbs they covered. All, -however, was calm and easy, and every part of the figure was -concealed, as far as possible, except the tip of one small foot, and -the soft rounded delicate hands, which, with a thousand graceful -movements, urged the needle through the embroidery.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was Eugenie de Menancourt, whom her father's death in Paris had -left one of the richest heiresses of France, and had cast into the -hands of the faction called the League, which then ruled in the -capital, while the King waged war against it in the field. The -possession of Eugenie de Menancourt, indeed, was no slight advantage -to that party, for those who have much to bestow will always be -followed; and the reward of her hand, and all the wealth that -accompanied it, was one well calculated to lure many an aspiring noble -to the faction who had the power of awarding it. This the Duke of -Mayenne felt fully, and made, indeed, no slight use of his advantage: -not that he held out the hope of obtaining her to any one directly, -except to the Count d'Aubin, to whom she had been promised by her -father, and whom Mayenne was most anxious to gain over from the royal -cause; but, nevertheless, he took good care that, when any of his -agents busied themselves to bring over an opposite, or confirm a -wavering, partisan, the list of the good things which the League could -bestow should not be left unmentioned, and amongst the first was the -hand of Eugenie de Menancourt, the heiress of near one half of Maine. -There was many another poor girl in the same condition; but as, in -those days, inclination was the last thing consulted by parents in the -marriage of their daughters, there was but little difference between -their fate in the hands of the League, and in the hands of their more -legitimate guardians. Nevertheless, the circumstances by which she was -surrounded, her isolated situation in the house wherein her father had -died, and which had been assigned to her by the League as her abode -during the time of her honourable captivity in Paris, and the prospect -of being forced to wed a man she did not love, all contributed to -heighten the gloom which her parent's recent death had cast over her, -and to make melancholy the temporary expression of a countenance which -seemed by nature born for smiles.</p> - -<p class="normal">One only consideration tended to make her situation feel more light: -the Count d'Aubin was deeply engaged on the side of the King; and on -his late journey to Maine, had even been entrusted with the high task -of keeping in check that province, and some of the neighbouring -districts. So long as he adhered to the King, Eugenie well knew that -Mayenne would never consent to his marriage with herself; and though -she sometimes doubted the steadiness of D'Aubin's loyalty, she trusted -the artful game which she knew that the Duke was playing, in order to -detach him from the royal cause, would insure her not being pressed to -give her hand to any one else. She hoped, therefore, for a degree of -peace till such time, at least, as some change in the political -affairs of France delivered her from the chance of force being -employed to compel her obedience to a choice made by others.</p> - -<p class="normal">On such facts and such speculations her mind was often forced to -dwell; but Eugenie de Menancourt was too wise to yield full way to -painful remembrances or anticipations that could produce no change; -and she studiously strove to occupy her thoughts with other things: -either reading herself during all the many hours she spent alone, or -making one of her maids read to her, when she was employed with any of -those occupations which engage the hand without absorbing the -attention.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus, then, was she employed plying her needle in the sunshine, and -listening to some of the poetry of Du Bartas, while, though she -attended, and she heard, some melancholy feeling or some gloomy -thought, springing from the depths of her own heart, would mingle -insensibly with the other matter which engaged her mind, and make all -she heard associate itself with the painful circumstances of her -situation. In the midst of the reading, however, the door of the -saloon opened, and a person entered, of whom we must pause to give -almost as full a description as we have been beguiled into writing in -regard to Eugenie de Menancourt herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The figure that appeared was that of a lady as beautiful as it is -possible to conceive, but in a style of loveliness as different from -that of her she came to visit as the ruby is different from the -sapphire. She might be three or four and twenty years of age, but -certainly was not more; and the full rounded contour of womanhood was -exquisitely united in her figure to the light and easy graces of -youth. Her hair was as jetty as a raven's wing, and her full bright -eyes also were as dark. Her skin was fair, however, and her teeth, of -dazzling whiteness, were just seen through the half-open lips of her -small beautiful mouth. The soft arched eyebrow, the chiselled nose, -the rounded chin, the gentle oval of the face, the small white ear, -and the broad clear forehead, made up a countenance such as is seldom -seen and never forgotten; and to that face and form she might well -have trusted to command admiration, had such been her object, without -calling in "the foreign aid of ornament." Dress, however, and -splendour had not been neglected, though her rich garments sat so -easily upon her, that they seemed but the natural accompaniment of so -much beauty, worn rather to harmonise with than to heighten the -splendid loveliness of her face and person. Her whole apparel, except -the mantle and the sleeves, was of the lightest kind of gold tissue, -consisting of a small stripe of pink, and a still smaller one of gold. -The bodice, or stays, was laced with gold; and the body, or <i>corps de -robe</i>, shaped not at all unlike those in use at present, came much -higher over the bosom than was customary at a libertine court, and in -a libertine age. The sleeves, which were large on the shoulders, and -suddenly contracted till they fitted close to the round and beautiful -arms, were of white satin, as was also the mantle, which round the -edge was richly embroidered with pink and gold. Her girdle was of gold -filigree worked upon white velvet; and through it was passed a chaplet -of large pearls, with every now and then a sapphire or an emerald, to -mark some particular prayer. Jewels were in her ears too, and on the -bosom of her dress, though it was but mid-day; and in her hand she -held one of the small black velvet masks, which the fair dames of -those days very generally wore when in the streets, even in their -carriages, under the pretence of guarding their complexions from the -sun and wind, but, in fact, more for the sake of fashion than from -over-tenderness, and often with views and purposes which might well -shun the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">The lady, however, who now entered, bore no appearance of one likely -to yield to the luxurious softness, or the weak vices of the day. -There was a light and a soul in her dark eyes, a play and a spirit -about her ever-varying lip, a firmness and determination on her fine -clear brow, that might, perhaps, speak of passion intense and strong, -but could hardly admit the idea of weakness. As soon as Eugenie de -Menancourt beheld her, she started up with a look of joy; and, -advancing to meet her, pressed her kindly in her arms, exclaiming, -"Dear, dear Beatrice! are you better at length? Why would you not let -me see you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well! quite well now, Eugenie," replied the other, returning her -embrace as warmly as it was given "but my illness, they said, was -contagious; and why should I have suffered you to risk your valued and -most precious life for such a one as I am?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! and your life is precious too, Beatrice," replied her friend; -"most precious to those who know you as well as I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how few do that, dearest friend!" replied Beatrice of Ferrara; -for, strange as it may seem, it was she whose name has once before -been mentioned in this work, who now stood beside Eugenie de -Menancourt, on terms of the dearest intimacy and affection. "How few -do that! Do you know, Eugenie, that I regard as one of the greatest -and sweetest triumphs of my life, the having conquered all your -prejudices against me; having won your love and your esteem, and -taught you to know me as I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But indeed, indeed, as I have often told you," replied Eugenie, "I -had no prejudices against you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay," replied the other, with a smile; "you beheld me surrounded -by the profligate and the base; you beheld me mingling with the idle -and the vain: you beheld the seducers and the seduced of a corrupt -court worshipping this pretty painted idol that you see before you; -and, doubtless, thought in your own secret heart that it was with -pleasure that I bore it all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, indeed," replied Eugenie; "quite the reverse! Wherever I went -I heard you mentioned as the exception. The malicious and the -scandalous were silent at your name; and not even the braggart idlers, -whose vanity is fed by their own lies against our sex, ventured to say -you smiled upon them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They dared not, Eugenie!" said Beatrice, her dark eye flashing as she -spoke; "they dared not! There is not a minion in all France who would -dare to cast a spot upon my name! Not because they fear to speak -falsehood, be it as gross and glaring as the sun; but because they -know I hold, that where the honour of Beatrice of Ferrara is assailed, -she has as much right as any punctilious man in all the land to avenge -herself as best she may. Nay, start not, dear friend! but send away -your women, and let us have a few calm moments together, if the idle -world will let us."</p> - -<p class="normal">The women, who had been in attendance upon Eugenie de Menancourt, -required no farther commands; but, the one laying down her book, and -the other covering up her embroidery-frame, left the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You started but now, Eugenie," continued Beatrice, advancing towards -the little platform in the bay window, and seating herself beside her -friend; "you started but now, when I said that women have as much -right to avenge themselves, when their honour is assailed, as men; but -I say so still--ay, and even more right. I have long thought so, and -shall ever think so, Eugenie; though Heaven only knows how I should -act, were such a case to happen. I might be as weak as women generally -are, and let the traitor escape out of pure fear: but I think not, -Eugenie--I think not. I believe that I would rather die the next -minute after having avenged myself, than live on in the same world -with one who had slandered that fair fame which, in spite of -circumstances, and my own wild thoughtlessness, I have maintained -unstained in the midst of this foul court."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, but consider, Beatrice," cried Eugenie, earnestly, "this world -is not all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know it well, sweet friend," replied Beatrice; "but I think, if -there be pardon in heaven for any offence, it would be for that Men -claim the right, and die without a fear; and why should not we have -the same privilege? They, when their honour is assailed, could clear -themselves without revenge; they could call their comrades to judge of -their conduct; but, with us, the very whisper is destruction; and no -proof of innocence ever gives us back that pure, untarnished name -which is our only honour; we can have no exculpation, we can have no -redress, and vengeance is all that is left us."</p> - -<p class="normal">Eugenie was silent, and Beatrice gazed upon her, for a moment or two, -with a smile, adding, at last, "But no--no, Eugenie, such thoughts and -such feelings are not for you. Your nation, your education, your -country, will not let you feel as I feel, or think as I think; and -yet, Eugenie, we love each other," she added, twining her graceful arm -through that of her fair friend, "and yet we love each other--is it -not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, it is!" replied Eugenie de Menancourt, turning towards her -with a warm smile. "Your company, your affection, your sympathy, dear -Beatrice, have been my only consolations since I came within the walls -of this hateful city; and all I wish is that I could on some points -make you think as I do. I wish it selfishly, and yet for your sake, -Beatrice; for, if I could succeed, I should not tremble every moment -for your happiness and for your peace, as I do now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank you, thank you for the wish, dear friend!" replied Beatrice, -with more melancholy than mirth in her smile; "thank you, most -sincerely, for the wish! but still it is in vain. You can never, with -all your kind eloquence, make a wild, ardent, passionate Italian girl, -a calm, gentle, yielding being like yourself, all charity and half -Huguenot. It is in vain, it is in vain. But you speak of happiness, -Eugenie, as if I knew what happiness is. Now listen to me, and you -shall hear more of Beatrice of Ferrara than ever you have yet done. -There is a subject, I know, on which we have both thought often, and -on which we have wished often to speak--I know it, Eugenie! I know it! -I have heard it in half-spoken words; I have read it in your manner, -and in your tone; I have seen it in your eyes--that, often, often, -when we have talked of other scenes and other days, you have longed to -ask what is Beatrice of Ferrara to Philip d'Aubin, and what is he to -her? Nay, I dream not that you love him, Eugenie; I know better--I -know that you love him not; and I feel that Philip d'Aubin, with all -his splendid qualities, with all his energies of mind, and graces of -person, is the last man on earth that Eugenie de Menancourt could -love."</p> - -<p class="normal">She paused a moment, gazed thoughtfully in her friend's face, and -then, leaning her head upon Eugenie's shoulder, while she took her -hand in hers, she added, in a low tone and with a deep sigh--"But it -is not so with Beatrice of Ferrara!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A bright blush rushed over her cheek, as she spoke the words which -gave to her friend the full assurance of a fact that she had long -suspected, perhaps we might say had long known; and she closed her -dark bright eyes, as if to avoid seeing whatever expression that -confession might call into the countenance of Eugenie. The moment -after, however, she started up, exclaiming eagerly, "But mistake me -not! mistake me not! I have not loved unsought; I have not called upon -my head the well-deserved shame of being despised for courting him -who loved me not. No, Eugenie, no! although the blood that flows in -these veins may be all fire, yet in my heart there is a well of icy -pride--at least, so he has often called it--which would cool the warm -current of my love--ay, till it froze in death!--ere the name I bear -should be stained even by such a pitiful weakness as that. No! he -sought me, he courted me, he lived at my feet, till the proud heart -was won. Yes, Eugenie, he lived at my feet, he seemed to feed upon my -smiles, till, at length, ambition and interest opened wider views, and -vanity was piqued to think that Eugenie de Menancourt could be dull to -such high merits as his own----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If ambition and interest swayed him," said Eugenie;--but her friend -interrupted her ere she could finish. "Hear me out!" she cried, "hear -me out, Eugenie! Ambition and interest had much to do therewith. When -I and my young brother first sought this court to find protection -against the injustice of my father's brother, I possessed little but a -small inheritance in France, the dowry of my mother. This he well -knew; and though, if there be any truth on earth, he loved me, -yet, with men, Eugenie, there are passions that make even love -subservient--ambition, interest, vanity, Eugenie, are men's gods!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But is it possible, Beatrice," cried Mademoiselle de Menancourt, -"that, thinking thus of all men, and of him in particular, you can -either esteem or love him, or any of his race?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, Eugenie! oh, yes!" she replied. "Love is a tyrant--not a -slave: we cannot bind him to the chariot wheels of reason; we cannot -make him bow his neck beneath the yoke of judgment. On the contrary, -we can but yield and obey. There is but one power on earth that can -restrain him, Eugenie--Virtue! but everything else is vain. And, oh! -how many ways have we of deceiving ourselves! The sun will cease to -rise, Eugenie--summer and winter, night and day, forget their course, -ere love, in the heart of woman, wants a wile to cheat her belief to -what she wishes. Even now, Eugenie, even now, I believe and hope; and -I fancy often that, though misled by things whose emptiness he will -soon discover, the time will come when Love will re-assert his empire -in a heart that is naturally noble. It may be all in vain!" she added, -with a deep sigh; "it may be all in vain! yet, who would willingly put -out the last faint, lingering flame that flickers on Hope's altar?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I!" said Eugenie, echoing her friend's sigh; "not I, -indeed!--Would that he were worthy of you, Beatrice! Would that he -were worthy of you!" she added, after a momentary pause; during which, -perhaps, her mind was struggling back to the real subject of their -conversation from some path of association, into which it had been led -by her companion's last words. "Would that he were worthy of you! but -if his fickle and wayward nature could never be endured by me, who can -bear much, how much less would it suit you, Beatrice, who, I am -afraid, are calculated to bear but little!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know not how much I have already borne, Eugenie," replied -Beatrice; "you know not how much love can bear: though, yes, perhaps -you do," she added, in a lighter tone; "at least, there are those who -know well how much--how very much--they could bear for love of Eugenie -de Menancourt."</p> - -<p class="normal">The warm blood spread red and glowing over Eugenie's fair face. "I -know not whom you mean, Beatrice," she said, gravely: "I know none -that love me; and few that are capable of loving at all--if you speak -of men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, ask me not his name!" said Beatrice, the gaiety of her tone -increasing, as she marked, or thought she marked, a greater degree of -confusion in her friend's countenance than the subject would have -produced in other persons brought up regularly in the sweet and -pleasant pastime of deceit. "Nay, ask me not his name! I am no maker -of fair matches, nor half so politic, as this world goes, to endeavour -to marry my friend to the first person that presents himself, solely -to rid myself of the presence of her beauty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, but dear Beatrice," replied Mademoiselle de Menancourt, "I know -no one who has even seen that beauty, if so it must be called, for -many a month: so indeed you are mistaken."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay, not so," answered Beatrice, smiling; "a few hours, a few -minutes, a single instant, are enough, you know, Eugenie: and for the -rest, indeed I am not mistaken. I would stake my life, from what I -have seen--from signs infallible--that you are loved deeply, truly, -with all the ardour of a first passion in a young--a very young -heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pray God, it be not so!" cried Eugenie; "for it were but unhappiness -to himself and to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you so cold, then, Eugenie, that you cannot love?" asked -Beatrice, with a smile; "or is that sweet heart occupied already by -some one who fills it all?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Eugenie smiled too, and shook her head; but there was once more a deep -blush spread over her face; and though it might be but the generous -flush of native modesty, Beatrice read in it a contradiction of her -words, as she replied, "No, no, not so, indeed! Perhaps I may be cold; -as yet I cannot tell, for no one has ever yet spoken to me of love -whose love I could return. But, even could I do so, Beatrice, would it -not be grief to both, as here I remain in the hands of others, unable -to dispose of myself but as they please?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out upon it, Eugenie!" cried Beatrice; "'tis your own fault if you -are not your own mistress in an hour. Never was there a time in France -when woman--the universal slave--was half so free."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what would you have me do?" demanded Eugenie. "With a thousand -eyes constantly upon me, I see not how I could obtain more freedom, or -dispose of myself, were I so inclined."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As easy as sit here and sew," cried Beatrice. "Here is the King -claims the disposal of your hand, and the League claims it too; and, -between them both, you can give it to whom you will. Fly from Paris! -Betake yourself where you will, but not to the court of Henry; for his -tyranny might be greater than even that of the League. Then, make your -choice. Give your hand to him you love; and be quite sure, that the -party that your good lord shall join will sanction your marriage with -all accustomed forms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if I love no one?" said Eugenie, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why then, live in single simplicity till you do," replied Beatrice, -with an incredulous shake of the head. "But, at all events, fly from -the yoke they now put upon you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fly, Beatrice?" answered Eugenie; "fly, and how? How am I to fly, -with a city beleaguered on all sides; a watchful Argus in the League, -with its thousand eyes all round me: having none to guide me, and not -knowing where to go;--how am I to fly?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By a thousand ways," answered her friend, laughing at her -embarrassment. "Change your dress, in the first place: put on a -petticoat of crimson satin embroidered with green, together with a -black velvet body and sleeves, cut in the fashion of the Duchess of -Valentinois, of blessed memory!--a cloak of straw-coloured silk, a -<i>capuche</i> of light blue cloth broidered with gold, a mass of grey hair -under a black cap, and a <i>vertugadin</i> of four feet square. Dress -yourself thus, and call yourself Madame la Presidente de Noailles; -and, by my word, the guards will let you pass all the gates, and thank -God to get rid of you! Or, if that does not suit you, take the gown -and bonnet of a young advocate," she continued in the same gay tone; -"hide those pretty lips and that rounded chin under a false beard from -Armandi's; and be very sure the guards would as soon think of stopping -you as they would of stopping the prince of darkness, who, after all, -is the real governor of this great city. Nothing keeps you here but -fear, my Eugenie! Why, I will undertake to go in and out twenty times -a day, if I please."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, but you have a bolder heart than I have," answered Eugenie de -Menancourt; "and I know full well, Beatrice, that a thing which, -executed with a good courage, is done with ease, miscarries at the -first step when it is attempted by timidity and fear. The very thought -of wandering through the gates of Paris alone makes me shrink."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But I will go with you, Eugenie," replied Beatrice, "and will answer -for success whenever you like to make the attempt."</p> - -<p class="normal">Eugenie paused, and thought for several moments, fixing her fine eyes -upon vacancy with a faint smile and a longing look, as if she would -fain have taken advantage of her friend's proposal, yet dared not make -the attempt. "Not yet, dear Beatrice--not yet!" she answered: "I dare -not, indeed, unless some sharp necessity happens to give me temporary -courage. As long as they refrain from urging me to wed one I can never -love, and from pressing on me any other in his room, so long will I -stay where I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But see that your decision come not too late, Eugenie," answered her -friend. "They may soon begin to press you on the subject; and, when -once they find you reluctant, they may take measures to prevent your -flight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not think they will press me," answered Eugenie. "First, in -regard to Philip d'Aubin, they will never favour him, as he is of the -party of the King; and, in regard to any other, they know full well -that I could, if I would, urge my father's promise to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But you would not do it!" exclaimed Beatrice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, Beatrice, no!" answered Eugenie, laying her hand kindly upon -hers; "no, I would rather die!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But hear me," said Beatrice, somewhat eagerly; "think of all that may -happen. A thousand things may tempt D'Aubin to quit the royal party. -He may come over to the League--he may urge your father's promise--he -may obtain the sanction of Mayenne:--what will you do then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fly to the farthest corner of the earth," replied Eugenie, "sooner -than fulfil a promise that was none of mine, and against which my -whole heart revolts on every account. Listen, Beatrice; I do believe -that, in the moment of need, I shall not want courage, and certainly -shall not want resolution. Should I have any reason to fear -compulsion, but too often used of late, I will take counsel with none -but you; you shall guide me as you think fit, and I will fly anywhere, -rather than give my hand to one I cannot love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Write me but five words," replied Beatrice, "write me 'Come to me -with speed,' and send it by a page when you want assistance, and doubt -not but I will find means to deliver you, were you at the very altar. -But, hark! I hear steps upon the staircase, and horses before the -house; and I must resume all my bold and haughty bearing, and put on -the mask, which I have laid aside to Eugenie de Menancourt alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke, she drew her chair a little further from that of her -friend; and, placing it in the exact position which the ceremonious -intercourse of that day pointed out, she remained with the glove drawn -off from one fair hand, which, dropping gracefully over the arm of the -<i>fauteuil</i>, continued to hold her small black mask, twirling it as -listlessly round and round as ever the fair hand of fashionable dame -in our own days played with a glove, to show her skin's whiteness or -her brilliant rings. Eugenie de Menancourt's eyes sought the door with -an expression of anxiety; but Beatrice, on the contrary, gazed -vacantly through the window towards the buildings on the opposite side -of the river; and the visitors had entered the room, and were already -speaking to her friend, before she appeared to be conscious of their -presence, or condescended to notice them. Turning her head at length, -she fixed her eyes upon a square-built, powerful man, with a somewhat -heavy, but not unpleasing, countenance; who, richly dressed, and -followed by two or three gentlemen, in a more gay and smart, but not -more magnificent, costume, was speaking to Mademoiselle de Menancourt, -with all that courteous respect which chivalrous times, then just -passing away, had left behind them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good morrow, my lord Duke!" said Beatrice, as the visitor turned -towards her: "I anticipated not the pleasure of seeing your Highness -here to day. Good faith! have you so much ease in a beleaguered city, -as to exercise your horses in visiting ladies before noon? On my -honour, I will be a soldier, for 'tis the idlest life I know, and only -fit for a woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I came but to ask briefly after your fair friend's health," replied -the Duke; "and knew not that I should have to risk with you, gay lady, -one of our old encounters of sharp words. I trust, however, your -health is better."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you ever see me look more beautiful, Duke of Mayenne?" asked -Beatrice, with a gay toss of her head; "and can you ask if I am ill? -But as to my <i>friend's</i> health, if you would that she should be well, -and keep well, let her go out of Paris, home to her own dwelling; and -keep her not here, where one is surrounded, night and day, with the -sound of cannon and arquebuses. Do you intend that it should be said, -in future, that carrying on the war against women and children was -first introduced into modern Europe by the Duke of Mayenne and the -Catholic League, that you keep a lady here a close prisoner in your -beleaguered capital?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not as a prisoner, fair lady," answered the Duke of Mayenne; "God -forbid that either I or she should look upon her situation as one of -imprisonment; but, being lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and, -consequently, her lawful guardian and protector, till marriage gives -her a better, I should be wanting both in duty and in courtesy, were I -to leave her in a distant and distracted province, in a time of -unfortunate civil war."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well explained and justified, my good lord Duke," cried Beatrice, -who, both in right of rank and beauty, treated the ambitious leader of -the League as equal to equal. "And yet, after all, my lord, has not -that same marriage that you mention some small share in your tenacious -kindness? Did you ever hear, my lord, of a rat-catcher giving the rats -the bait out of his trap, from pure affection for the heretic vermin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duke of Mayenne first reddened, and then smiled; either more -amused than angry at the gay flippancy of his fair opponent, or -judging it best, at least, to appear so. "Your similes savour of a -profession that I know not, fair lady," he replied; "but if you mean, -Lady Beatrice, that hereafter I may dispose of your fair friend's -hand in such a manner as seems to me most conducive towards her -happiness--if you mean that," he repeated, in a marked tone, "I deny -not that you are right. Yet I would fain know who has a better right -to do so than the lieutenant-general of the kingdom?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! no one, surely!" answered Beatrice, in the same tone of mingled -pride and gaiety--"no one, surely, my lord, except the King of that -kingdom, or the poor frightened girl herself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, fair lady," cried Mayenne, laughing; "you carry your jest -so far, that I will bid you take care what you say farther, lest I -should dispose of your hand for you, too, for the purpose of showing -you--to use your own figure--that I have more baits than one to my -rat-trap."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, lord Duke, you count wrongly, if you reckon that I am one," -replied Beatrice. "You know too well that the task would neither be a -very safe nor very easy one, to try to wed me to any one against my -will. You may be lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and I, for -one--being not of this kingdom, and thinking much better of you than -of the crowned Vice at St. Cloud--will not deny your right; but you -are not lieutenant-general of Beatrice of Ferrara; and you might find -it more difficult to govern her than half the realm of France; and so, -good morrow! Love me, Eugenie; and do not let these men persuade you -that they are half such powerful and terrible things as they would -make themselves appear. Fare you well!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Each of the gentlemen in the prince's suite stepped forward to offer -his hand to the gay, proud beauty, whose tone of light defiance had -something in it more attractive to the general youth of those excited -times, than all the retiring graces and gentle modesty of Eugenie de -Menancourt. Beatrice scarcely noticed them while her friend took leave -of her, but as soon as the embrace was over, she ran her eye over the -three or four cavaliers who stood round, and, singling out one, gave -him her hand, saying, "My lord of Aumale, I believe you are the only -one here present, except my lord Duke, who never whispered that you -loved me; and therefore I doubt not that you <i>do</i> love me enough -to--hand me to my carriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young noble, to whom she addressed herself, answered with all -those professions which the formal gallantry of the day not only -permitted, but required, and led her down to the rudely formed, but -richly decorated, vehicle, which was the carriage of those days.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, Eugenie de Menancourt remained waiting in some -suspense, to hear the real object of the visit paid her by the Duke of -Mayenne, the purport of which she could not conceive was merely to -inquire after her health. Whether, however, the great leader of the -League judged that his conversation with Beatrice of Ferrara was not -the most favourable prelude to anything he had to say to the young -heiress, or whether he really came but to trifle away a few minutes in -a visit of ceremony, it is certain that he said nothing which could -induce Eugenie to imagine that he had any immediate view of pressing -her to a marriage with any one. After spending about ten minutes in -ordinary conversation, upon general and uninteresting subjects, and -expressing many a wish for the comfort and welfare of his fair ward, -as he did not fail to style Mademoiselle de Menancourt, Mayenne rose, -and left her to the enjoyment of solitude and her own reflections, -which, for the time, were sweetened by the hope, that the evils to -which her situation might ultimately give rise were yet remote.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER VIII.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The carriage which contained Beatrice of Ferrara rolled on with slow -and measured pace through the narrow and tortuous streets of old -Paris, till at length, as it was performing the difficult man[oe]uvre -of turning a sharp angle, it was encountered by a small party of -horsemen, in the simple garments of peace, which, at that warlike -period, was a less common occurrence than to see every one who could -bear them clad in grim arms. The right of staring into carriages, when -the velvet curtains were withdrawn, was already established in Paris; -and it needed but a brief glance to make the principal cavalier of the -group draw in his bridle rein, beckon the coachman to stop, and, -springing to the ground, approach the <i>portiere</i> of the vehicle -wherein Beatrice was placed. As usual in those days, she was not -alone; but, while a number of lackeys graced the outside of her -carriage, two or three female attendants were seated in the interior -of the machine, leaving still a space within its ample bulk for many -another, had it been necessary. More than one pair of eyes were thus -upon her; and yet Beatrice, though brought up in a court--where -feelings themselves were nearly reckoned contraband, and all -expression of them prohibited altogether--could not repress the very -evident signs of agitation which the approach of that cavalier -occasioned. Her cheek reddened, her breathing became short, and she -sank back upon the embroidered cushions of the carriage, as if she -would fain have avoided the meeting. The agitation lasted but a -moment, however; and as soon as he spoke, she was herself again: -perhaps gaining courage from seeing that his own cheek was flushed, -and that his own voice trembled as he addressed her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand, thousand pardons, lady!" he said, standing bareheaded by -the door, "for stopping your carriage in the streets; but these -unfortunate wars have rendered it so long since we have met, that most -anxious am I----!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord Count d'Aubin," replied Beatrice, raising her head proudly, -"the time of your absence from Paris has not seemed to me so long as -to make me rejoice that it is at an end!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no right to expect another answer," replied D'Aubin, in a low -voice; "and yet, Beatrice, perhaps I could say something in my own -defence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which I should be most unwilling to hear," replied the lady, coldly. -"I doubt not, sir Count, that you can say much in your own defence: I -never yet knew man that could not, but a plain idiot, or one born -dumb. But what is your defence to me? I am neither your judge nor your -accuser. If your own heart charges you with ambition, or avarice, or -falsehood, plead your cause with it, and, doubtless, you will meet -with a most lenient judge. Will you bid the coachman drive on, sir? -this is a foolish interruption, and a narrow street."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Beatrice!" exclaimed the Count d'Aubin, piqued by her coldness, -"at least delay one moment, till you tell me you are well and happy: I -have just heard that you have been ill--very ill."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have, sir," she replied; "I caught the fever that was prevalent -here; but I am well again, as you see, and should be perfectly happy, -if I did not hear King Henry's artillery above once a week, and if -people would not stop my carriage in the streets."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And is that all you will say to me, Beatrice?" asked the Count, in -the same low tone which he had hitherto used--"is that all you will -say, after all that has passed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know nothing, sir, that has passed between us," replied Beatrice -aloud, "except that once or twice, in a fit of wine or folly, you -vowed that you loved Beatrice of Ferrara better than life, or wealth, -or rank, or station; and that she received those vows as she has done -a thousand others, from a thousand brighter persons than Philip Count -d'Aubin, namely, as idle words, which foolish men will speak to -foolish women, for want of better wit and more pleasant conversation; -as words which you had probably spoken to a hundred others, before you -spoke them to me, and which you will yet, in all probability, speak to -a hundred more, who will believe them just as much as I did, and -forget them quite as soon. Once more, sir, then, will you order the -coachman to drive on, or let me do so, and retire from the wheel, lest -it strike you, and the Catholic League lose a valiant convert by an -ignoble death?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, there at least you do me wrong!" replied the Count d'Aubin: "the -Catholic League has no convert in me; I am here, under a safe conduct, -on matters of no slight importance to my good cousin St. Real: but to -his Majesty will I adhere, so long as he and I both live!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" cried Beatrice, with a light laugh. "Is there anything in -which the fickle Count d'Aubin will not be fickle? Nay, nay, make no -rash vows; remember, you have not yet heard all the golden arguments -which his Highness, the lieutenant-general of the kingdom and the -League can hold out. Suppose he offer you the hand of some rich -heiress; could you resist, sir Count? could you resist?"</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin coloured, perhaps because Beatrice had gone deeper into the -secrets of his inmost thoughts than he felt agreeable. He answered, -however, boldly, "I could resist anything against my honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Honour!" exclaimed Beatrice, with a scoff: "honour! Marguerite, tell -the coachman to drive on. Honour!"</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin drew back, with an air at once of pain and anger, made a -silent sign to the coachman to proceed, and, springing on his horse, -galloped down the street, followed by his attendants, at a pace which -risked their own necks upon the unequal causeway of the town, and -which certainly showed but little consideration for the safety of the -passengers. The emotions of Philip d'Aubin, however, were such as did -not permit of consideration for himself or others. He felt himself -condemned, and he believed himself despised, by the only woman that, -perhaps, he had ever truly loved. The better feelings of his heart, -too, rose against him: he knew that his conduct was ungenerous; and he -felt that, had the time been one when faith and honour towards woman -were aught but mere names, his behaviour would have been dishonourable -in the eyes of mankind, as well as in the stern code of abstract right -and wrong: and unhappy is the man who has no other means of justifying -himself to his own heart but by pleading the follies and vices of his -age. D'Aubin did plead those follies and vices, however, and he -pleaded them successfully, so far as in soon banishing reflection -went; but there was a sting left behind, which was the more bitter, -perhaps, as mortified vanity had no small share in the pain that he -suffered. He had believed that he could not so soon be treated with -scorn and indifference; he had fancied that his hold on the heart of -Beatrice of Ferrara was too strong to be shaken off so easily; and -though he had no definite object in retaining that hold, though other -passions had for the time triumphed over affection, and placed a -barrier between himself and her which he was not willing to overleap, -yet still the lingering love that would not be banished was wounded by -her bitter tone; and, joined to humbled pride and offended vanity, -made his feelings aught but pleasing.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, the carriage of Beatrice of Ferrara bore her on with -a heart in which sensations as bitter were thronging; though, as we -have seen in her conversation with Eugenie de Menancourt, her feelings -towards her lover were less keen and scornful than her words might -lead him to believe. On the state of her bosom, however, there is no -necessity to dwell here, as many an occasion will present itself for -explaining it in her own words; and it may be better, also, to let her -thus speak for herself, because in endeavouring to depict -abstractedly, by means of cold descriptions, that varying and -chameleon-like thing, the human heart, one is often led into seeming -contradictions, from the infinite variety of hues which it takes, -according to the things which surround it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The carriage rolled on and entered the court-yard of the splendid -mansion in which she dwelt. Here Beatrice alighted; but she did not go -into the house, for a hand-litter or chair,--one of the most ancient -of French conveyances,--waited under the archway, as if prepared by -her previous order, with its two bearers, and a single armed -attendant; and this new conveyance received her as soon as she set -foot out of the other. The door was immediately closed, and the -blinds, filled with their small squares of painted glass, were drawn -up, Beatrice merely saying to the attendant who stood beside her as -she shut out the gaze of the passers-by, "To Armandi's!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The bearers instantly lifted their burden, and began their course at -the same peculiar trot which has probably been the pace of chair-men -in all ages; nor from this did they cease or pause till they reached -one of the most showy, if not one of the richest, shops in the city. -Standing forth from the building, under a little projecting penthouse, -to secure the wares against both sun and rain, was along range of -glass cases, containing every sort of cosmetic then in vogue, from the -plain essence of violets, wherewith the simple burgher's wife perfumed -her robe of ceremony, to the rich ointment compounded from a thousand -rare ingredients, wherewith the King himself masked his own effeminate -countenance against the night air whilst he slept. Behind these cases -was the shop itself, hanging in which might be seen a crowd of various -objects for the gratification of vanity and luxury,--the black velvet -mask, or loupe, the embroidered and many-coloured gloves, the splendid -hair-pins and enamelled clasps, the girdles of gold and silver -filigree and precious stones, together with many another part of dress -or ornament, some full of grace and taste, some fantastic and absurd, -and some scarcely within the bounds of common decency. Beyond the -shop, again, but separated from it by a partition of glass, covered in -the inside with curtains of crimson silk, was the inner shop, or most -private receptacle for all those peculiarly rich or fragile wares -which Armandi, the famous perfumer of that day, did not choose to -expose, to tempt cupidity, or lose their freshness, in the more -exposed parts of his dwelling. Here, too, report whispered, were -concealed those drugs and secret preparations, his skill in -compounding which, it was said, had been much more the cause of his -great favour with Catherine de Medicis than his art as a perfumer, -which was the ostensible motive of her calling him from Italy to take -up his abode in her husband's capital. However this might be, certain -it is that, after the sudden death of the Queen of Navarre, the -suspicions of the Huguenots turned strangely against Armandi, to whose -diabolical skill they very generally attributed the loss of their -beloved princess: and it is more than probable that he would have -fallen a victim to their indignation, whether just or unjust, had not -the horrors of St. Bartholomew shortly after delivered him from the -presence of his adversaries in Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nevertheless, although suspicion might be strong, and the man's -character as infamous as such suspicions could render it, yet the shop -of Armandi was not less the resort of the beautiful and the fair, and -even of the gentle and good: for it is most extraordinary how far -female charity will extend towards those who contribute to the -gratification of vanity and satisfy the thirst for novelty. The newest -fashions, the most beautiful objects of art and luxury, the freshest -and most costly rarities were nowhere to be found but at his shop; and -no one chose to believe that Armandi dealt in poisons--but those who -wanted them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thither, then, the chair, or <i>litiere encaissee</i>, as it was called, of -Beatrice of Ferrara, was borne at an hour when the greater part of the -gay Parisians were busy with that employment which few people love -better, namely, that of eating the good things which their own -gastronomic art produces. The bearers halted not at the steps which -led into the shop, but proceeded till the chair was brought parallel -to a door in the partition, between the outer and the inner chamber, -so that she could pass at once from the one into the other. Her -countenance, however, bore but little the expression of one going to -buy trinkets, or to amuse oneself by turning over the light -frivolities of such a place as that in which she stood. The usual fire -of her eye was somewhat quelled, and a degree of melancholy, perhaps -of anxiety, unusual with her at any time, had, since her meeting with -the Count d'Aubin, pervaded her whole countenance. The doors of the -partition and that of the chair had been both thrown open as soon as -the gilded lions' feet of the latter touched the floor, and there -stood the Signor Armandi, dressed in silks and velvets of rose colour -and sky blue, with his mustachio turning up almost to his eyes, and a -small jewelled dagger occupying the place of the sword, which his -calling did not permit him to wear in Paris. His face was dressed in -sweet complacent smiles; and, as he bowed three times to the very -ground before his lovely visiter, his head was certainly "dropping -odours;" for no one held his own perfumes in higher veneration than he -did himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enchanted and honoured are my eyes to see you once again, lady most -fair and chaste!" said he, in high-flown Italian. "I heard that you -had been upon that sad couch, where the head is propped by the thorns -of sickness, rather than by the roses of love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush, Armandi!" cried Beatrice, with an impatient wave of the -hand; "you should know me better than to speak such trash to me. I -neither use your cosmetics, nor will hear your nonsense. I have come -upon more weighty matters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For whatever you have come, most beautiful of the beautiful," replied -the other, affecting to subdue his exalted tone; "you have come to -command, and I am here to obey. Speak! your words are law to Armandi."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When followed by the necessary seal of gold, I know they are," -answered Beatrice, gravely. "Now hear me, then. I wish--I wish--" she -paused and hesitated, and the perfumer, accustomed to receive -communications of too delicate a nature to bear the coarse vehicle of -language, hastened to aid her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You wish, perhaps," he said, in a soft voice, "to see some friend, -and require the magical influence of Armandi to bring him to your -presence----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out, villain!" cried Beatrice, her eyes flashing fire. "For whom do -you take me, pitiful slave? Do you fancy yourself speaking to Clara de -Villefranche, or Marguerite de Tours en Brie, or, higher still in rank -and infamy, Marguerite de Valois? Out, I say! Talk not to me of such -things;--I wish--I wish--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps you wish to see some friend no more," said the soft voice of -the perfumer, apparently not in the least offended by the hard terms -she had given him, and equally disposed to do her good and -uncompromising service of any kind. "Perhaps you wish the magical -influence of Armandi to remove from your sight some one who has been -in it too long, and troubles you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A bitter and painful smile played round the beautiful lips of Beatrice -of Ferrara, while, bowing her head slowly, she replied, after a -moment's thought, "Perhaps I do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I am right at last," said Armandi, softly, rubbing his hands -together. "I am right at last; and you have nothing to do, fair lady, -but to name the person, and the time, and the manner, and it shall be -done to your full satisfaction; though I must hint that all the -preparations for rendering disagreeable people invisible are somewhat -expensive; and the amount depends greatly upon the mode. Would you -have it slow and quietly, that he or she should disappear? That is the -best and easiest plan, and also the least expensive--for there is the -less risk."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No!" replied Beatrice, firmly, "I would have it act at once--in a -moment, and so potently, that no physician on the earth can find skill -sufficient to undo that which has been done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of the latter be quite sure," replied the perfumer. "But with regard -to the former, it is much more dangerous, as a sudden catastrophe -leads instantly to examination. Now, a few drops of sweet <i>aqua -tophana</i> has its calm and tranquillizing effects so gradually, that no -doubt or suspicion is awakened; and you can surely wait patiently for -a month, or a fortnight, to give it time to act?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mistake," replied Beatrice, thoughtfully; "you mistake: yet say, -how are such things managed? Let me hear, that I may judge."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, lady," replied Armandi, with a mysterious smile, "there are -secrets in all things on this earth, from the fine composition of a -lady's heart, to the simples of poor Armandi. Nevertheless, although -the mysteries of the art must remain hidden in my own bosom, as I -enjoy the blessing of having been born in the same land with one so -beautiful, and as I know that you were deeply beloved by my late royal -and honoured mistress, though somewhat frowning on the soft pleasures -of her court, I will, without reserve, reveal to you how your purpose -may be best effected."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus saying, he took a small silver key from his pocket, and opened a -Venetian cabinet, that stood near. "See here!" he said, producing a -small gilded phial, containing, apparently, a quantity of a perfectly -limpid fluid; "see here! the water that Adam found in the first -fountain he met in Eden was not more clear than this; and yet the -fruit of the tree that stood near it was not more certain death. No -odour is to be discerned therein: to the eye it has no colour; to the -lip no taste; and yet, like many another thing, with all this seeming -simplicity, it is the most potent of all things, having power -unlimited over life and death. Three drops of this, in the simplest -beverage, will ensure that slow and gradual decay, which, at the end -of a year, shall leave him who drinks it a clod in his mother earth. A -larger dose will shorten the time by one half; and a larger still will -reduce the time to a few weeks or days. The only difficulty is how to -give it: but that I will find means for when I know the person."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will not do!" replied Beatrice; "it will not do! it is not quick -enough. Have you no other means?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Many, lady! many!" replied the perfumer, smiling; "but, in good -sooth, you are as impatient as a young lover. All our art has been -tasked to render the means at once slow and secure, so as, in cases of -necessity, to effect our deliverance from enemies without calling -suspicion on ourselves. See here! this artificial rose, so like the -natural flower, that the eye must be keen, indeed, which, at the -distance of half a yard, could detect the difference. The scent, too, -is the same----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why do you keep it under that glass ball?" demanded Beatrice, -interrupting the long description with which he was proceeding.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because, lady," replied the Italian, "that rose, placed in as fair a -bosom as your own, and worn there for one half-hour, would lose its -scent, and the wearer health and life within a week. Its odour, -therefore, is too valuable to trust to the common air."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And those gloves?" asked Beatrice; "those gloves, so beautifully -embroidered, for what purpose are they designed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven forbid that I should see them on your hands!" replied Armandi; -"though I have heard that they were once worn by a queen--who is since -dead. But you spoke of quicker means. Here is this small box of -powder, containing a certain salt that, in the twinkling of an eye, -extinguishes the fire of the heart, and the light of the mind, and -leaves nothing but the ashes behind. We often use it, diluted with -other things, for other purposes; but I would not administer one dose -of that, to any one of note, for a less sum than ten thousand golden -Henrys, though the whole box is scarcely worth a hundred crowns. But -so quick is its effect, and so marked the traces that it leaves -behind, that the chirurgeon were a fool who did not at once pronounce -the cause of death in him who took it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me yon <i>bonbonničre</i>," said Beatrice, pointing to a painted -trifle on one of the tables. "And now," she continued, as the man gave -it her, "is that enough for one dose?" and as she spoke, she emptied -part of the powder from the box which contained it into the -<i>bonbonničre</i>--"Is that enough for one dose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is enough to kill the King's army!" replied the man. "But what -mean you, lady? What do you intend to do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The person for whom I mean this drug," replied Beatrice, "shall -receive it from no hands but my own. You shall risk nothing. There is -a jewel, worth one half your shop," she added, drawing a ring from her -finger, and casting it upon the table; "and the powder is mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, lady! lady!" cried the perfumer, regarding the diamond with -eager and experienced eyes, and yet trembling for the consequences -which his fair visitor's strong passions might bring upon himself; -"but, lady, if you should be discovered! You are young and -inexperienced in such matters. They must be performed with a calm -hand, and a steady eye, and an unquivering lip: and if you should be -discovered, and put to the torture, you would betray me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"However I may contemn thee, man," answered Beatrice, "there is no -power on earth that could make me betray thee. But rest satisfied; I -take the powder from thee, whether thou wilt or not;--but I will make -thee easy, and tell thee, that if one grain thereof ever passes any -human lip, that lip will be my own. It is well to be prepared for all -things--to have ever at hand a ready remedy for all the ills of -life--to possess the means of snatching ourselves from the grasp of -circumstance: and, in the path which I may be called to tread, the -time may well come when I shall wish to change this world for another. -I leave to better moralists to decide whether it be right or not, -courageous or cowardly, to shake off a life that we are tired of. For -my part, I will bear it to the utmost; and, when I can endure it no -longer, then will I try another path."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If such be your purpose, lady," answered the perfumer, with a sweet -smile, and a low inclination, "far be it from me to oppose you. Every -one, as you say, should be prepared for all things; and I hold that -man not half prepared who does not possess the means of limiting the -power his enemies have over him to simple death, a fate that all must -undergo. Men think far too much of death: it is but cutting off a few -short hours from a long race of pain and anxiety: far oftener is it a -mercy than a wrong. Men think too much of death!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You think little enough of it in others, at least," answered -Beatrice, looking upon him with curiosity and hate, not unmingled with -that peculiar kind and degree of admiration, which wonder always more -or less produces. "Have I not heard that you were busy amongst the -busiest on the night of St. Bartholomew?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I, lady! not I!" exclaimed the perfumer, with a look of disgust -and horror at the very name of that fearful massacre. "Not I, indeed! -not for the world would I have borne a part, either in that shameful -affair, or in the late brutal murder of the great Duke and the -Cardinal de Guise."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, how now!" cried Beatrice. "Would you, who hold life so lightly, -and take it so carelessly from others; would you affect scruples at -slaying those you consider heretics, or at putting away ambitious -tyrants?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady, you mistake it altogether," answered the dealer in poisons, -with a grim smile. "The Huguenots are heretics, and damnable heretics, -since such is your good pleasure and the Pope's: but in that capacity -I have nought to do with them. The Guises were tyrants if you will; -though Heaven forbid that any ears but yours should hear me say so! -But they tyrannised not over me. What I objected to, was the manner of -the thing; and it is the manner that, in this world, makes the only -difference between crime and virtue. What is murder in one manner, is -war and glory in another; what is fraud in a merchant, is skill in a -minister; what is base when done in a burgher's coat and with a -simpering smile, is noble when done in royal robes and with a kingly -frown. Now, what could be more beastly, or brutal, or indecent, than -to cut the throats of some hundreds of men in their beds, stain all -their pillows with blood, and throw the old admiral himself, -half-naked, out of a window? What could be more cruel than to put them -for hours in mortal terror; inflict upon them excruciating wounds, -and, in some instances, leave them half dead, half-living, when the -whole might have been effected without pain, without fear, without -bloodshed, in the midst of some gay banquet, or some pleasant carouse: -where they would all have died as if they were going to sleep! Nay, -nay, lady! our late royal mistress made there a great and a cruel -mistake; and as for the Guises--Pho! was ever anything so stupid and -so filthy as to swim the King's own closet with gore, and have a man -reeling and tumbling about in the midst, under the strokes of -half-a-dozen daggers! I cannot conceive how the King, who is as -delicate a gentleman as any in all France, could consent to such an -indecency."</p> - -<p class="normal">Beatrice of Ferrara listened, but she thought deeply too; for there -was something in the character of the man who spoke--such a blending -of frivolity and foppery with cold-blooded villany, that it led her -thoughts far on into the wilds of speculation; and was not without its -moral for herself. She saw, from his example, how easy it is for any -one to persuade oneself of anything on earth, however much opposed to -reason, or to virtue. She saw that there are no bounds to self-deceit, -that it is illimitable, and that there was never yet a crime so base, -so horrible, so revolting, for which it will not find a pleasant mask -and a gay robe;--she saw it, and she began to doubt whether all her -own reasonings in regard to self-destruction had not derived their -strength from the same source. She resolved that, ere she ever thought -again of attempting such an act, she would consider well, and -scrutinise her own feelings minutely; but still, with the usual -weakness of human nature, she would not lose her hold upon the means -of doing that which she more than half believed to be wrong. Without -replying to the perfumer's dissertation, she turned thoughtfully -towards the door; but, as she did so, she took the poison which she -had purchased from the table, and concealed it in her bosom.</p> - -<p class="normal">Armandi hastened to open the door between the inner and the outer -shop, and, with low reverence, presented the tips of his delicate -fingers to lead the lady to her chair; but at that very moment the -clatter of many horses' feet, and the rush and murmur of a passing -crowd, made them both pause, and turn their eyes towards the street. -The matter did not remain long unexplained. A considerable body of -those mercenary soldiers, who, from their blackened arms, were called -the black reitters, were passing along before the house: but their -march through the streets of Paris was so common an occurrence, that -it would have attracted no crowd to gaze, in the present instance, had -not some additional circumstance given another kind of interest to -their appearance on this occasion. In the midst of them, however, well -mounted, but disarmed, appeared a handsome and noble-looking young -man--no other than the Marquis of St. Real--followed by about twenty -retainers, also disarmed, and bearing those black scarfs which were, -at that time, symbols of military mourning. There was nothing either -depressed or anxious in the countenance of St. Real; and he gazed -about at the many interesting objects which the streets of the capital -presented, with the calm and inquiring glance of a person mentally at -ease: but, at the same time, on either side of the file in which he -and his followers rode, appeared a body of the reitters, with their -short matchlocks rested on their knees, their hands upon the triggers, -and their matches lighted; evidently showing, that those they guarded -were brought into Paris in the condition of prisoners.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment this spectacle met her eyes, Beatrice of Ferrara called to -the armed attendant who had accompanied her chair, and who, like his -mistress, had now turned to gaze upon the cavalcade as it passed by. -"Quick!" she cried, "follow them quick, Bertrand! follow them quick, -and leave them not till you see their prisoner safely lodged. Make -sure of the place, and then bring all the tidings you can gather to -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The servant, accustomed to comprehend and to obey at once the orders -of a mistress whose mind was itself as rapid as the lightning, sprang -from the door, without a word, and, mingling in the crowd, followed -the reitters on their way. Beatrice remained in silence till the last -had passed, and then, entering her chair, was borne back to her own -dwelling.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER IX.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must now turn to trace the proceedings of Philip Count d'Aubin, -who, riding on at full speed, drew not his bridle rein till he reached -the magnificent Hotel de Guise; where, pushing through the mingled -crowd of attendants and petitioners, that swarmed, round the <i>porte -cochere</i> of the dwelling, in which, for the time, resided all the -power of Paris, if not of France, he advanced, with hasty steps and -abstracted look, to the foot of the great staircase. He had even -proceeded some way up the stairs ere he noticed, or even seemed to -hear, the reiterated inquiries regarding his name and business, which -were addressed to him by the various grooms and porters in his -progress. When, at length--called for a moment from his fit of -absence--he did condescend to speak, he merely mentioned his name, -without indicating in any manner which of the many persons that the -house contained was the object of his present visit.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although unacquainted with his person, the valet, who had at length -obtained an answer, happening to recall some of the court scandal of -former times, instantly, by an association not unnatural, connected -the coming of the Count d'Aubin with the presence of the Duchess de -Montpensier, the sister of the Duke de Mayenne, in the house at that -moment; and he proceeded forthwith to show the Count to her -apartments. D'Aubin entered the splendid saloon in which the Duchess -was sitting with the same thoughtful and abstracted air which had been -left behind by the strong and turbulent passions, that had just been -excited in his bosom by his interview with Beatrice of Ferrara. Madame -de Montpensier, surrounded by a group of the gay idlers of the -capital, who even at that time mingled in their character that degree -of levity and ferocity which marked with such dreadful traits the -first French revolution, was engaged in the seemingly puerile -employment of cutting out a paper crown with a huge pair of scissors, -the sheath of which, black, coarse, and disfiguring, was passed -through the silken girdle that spanned her beautiful waist.</p> - -<p class="normal">Shouts of laughter were ringing through the hall, when the valet -opened the door, and announced the Count d'Aubin. The Duchess -instantly looked up, with a smile of pleasure; but, remarking the -ruffled aspect of the Count, she instantly exclaimed--"Why, how now, -D'Aubin! how now! After so long an absence, do you come back to our -feet, not like a penitent suing for pardon, but rather like a harsh -husband, full of scoldings and tempests?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The cause of those gloomy looks, which she remarked, was not one which -Philip d'Aubin would willingly have communicated to the gay, satirical -Duchess de Montpensier, who, to the libertine freedom common to the -whole court, added many a wily art, and many a vindictive passion, -derived from the angry political factions of the time. The immediate -cause of his visit to Paris, however, afforded him a ready motive to -assign for his dark brow and agitated look. "Well may I be disturbed, -madam," he replied, after a hasty word of salutation, "when my noble -cousin, St. Real, confiding in an authentic pass, from the hands of -your Highness's brother, has been entrapped in the neighbourhood of -Senlis, and is now, as I am informed, a prisoner in Paris!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, but why bear such a countenance into our presence, Count -d'Aubin?" rejoined the Duchess; "I am guiltless of entrapping your -cousin, or of even trying to entrap yourself; though, once upon a -time," she added in a low tone, "I may have seen the Count d'Aubin a -tassel not unwilling to be lured;" and she looked up at him with a -glance in which reproach was so skilfully mingled with playfulness and -tenderness, that D'Aubin, although he knew that full two-thirds of the -pageant which daily played its part on her countenance, was mere -artifice, could not refrain from smiling in his turn.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ever willing to be lured, dear lady, where the lure is fair!" he -replied; "and though I certainly came to speak reproaches, they were -not to you. I know not why your blockhead groom," he added, "brought -me hither, unless he divined, indeed, how much the sight of your -Highness softens all wrath. My business was with your brother, the -Duke of Mayenne."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duchess muttered to herself--"That will never do! If he see -Mayenne, he will spoil the whole! I appeal to you, fair ladies and -gentlemen all," she exclaimed aloud, with one of those quick and happy -turns of artifice, which no one knew better how to employ, "if this is -not a high crime and misdemeanour in the court of love and gallantry, -to tell a lady, whom he dare not deny to be fair, that he came for any -other purpose on earth than to see herself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Blasphemy! blasphemy! utter blasphemy!" cried half a dozen voices. -"Judge him, fair lady, for his great demerits!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip d'Aubin!" exclaimed the Duchess, putting on a theatrical air, -"you are condemned by your peers; but, under consideration of your -having been thoroughly brutalized, by a two months' residence at the -distance of a hundred leagues from Paris, we are inclined to show you -lenity: kneel down here, then; humbly, at our feet, confess your -crime! and swear upon this paper crown, which we have cut expressly -for the royal Henry's head, never to commit the like iniquity again!"</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin had entered the apartment, not very well disposed to jest, but -yet the feelings which had oppressed him were of such a nature, that -he was quite willing to forget them; and the smiles of the Duchess de -Montpensier, as well as the tone of tenderness she assumed towards -him, together with the remembrance of many gay moments, spent in her -society long before, made him gladly enough take up the part that she -assigned him. Bending his knee gracefully before her, then, he made -confession of his crime, declared his penitence, and, vowing, in the -terms she had dictated, never to offend again, he stooped his head to -kiss the paper crown which she held upon her knee. At the same moment -the Duchess bent forward, as if to receive his vow, and, as she did -so, she whispered, rapidly, "Stay with me, D'Aubin, and I will soon -send these fools away."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count replied nothing, but rose; and, still holding the paper -crown playfully in his hand, demanded, in his ordinary tone, what was -the real intent and purpose of that fragile mockery of the royal -symbol.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duchess saw that he had heard, understood, and was prepared to -obey her whisper; and she replied, "'Tis exactly as I have told you, -most incredulous of men. When, by the fate of war, or by the blessing -of God, Henry, calling himself the Third, shall be brought in chains -into Paris, it might be expected that the sister of the murdered -Guise"--and as she spoke, her eye flashed for a moment with all the -fiery spirit of her race;--"it might be supposed that the sister of -the murdered Guise should not bound her wishes for revenge, till she -saw the assassin's blood flow like water in the kennel. But she is -more charitable, or, rather, he is too pitiful a thing to be worthy of -severe punishment. With these scissors shall be cut off his royal -locks, ere he quits the courtly world for the world of the cloister; -and on his head shall he bear this crown, from the door of Notre Dame -to the abbey of St. Denis, when he goes to take the vows that exclude -him for ever from the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin laughed. "So, this crown is for King Henry!" he exclaimed: -"and have you never thought, madam, of cutting out another, from some -different materials, for your noble brother of Mayenne?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be an iron crown, then," replied the Duchess, tossing her -head proudly; "and he must hew it out for himself, with his good -sword."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rather a Cyclopean labour," remarked D'Aubin; "rather a Cyclopean -labour I suspect! especially since Harry of Valois, to whom you deny -the crown, has chosen to turn up his hat with a Huguenot button."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We shall see, we shall see!" replied the Duchess: "I know, sir Count, -you laugh at all parties; so I understand not why you should cling so -fondly to the rabble of accursed murderers and heretics, who lie out -there at St. Cloud, like vipers in a garden."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin laughed outright at the Duchess's vehemence, and reminded her -that some of her near relations were amongst the rabble she so -qualified.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are none the less vipers for that," she replied: and the -conversation taking a turn neither very wise nor very decent, may as -well be omitted in this place. It lingered on, however, from minute to -minute, without the Duchess making any apparent effort to fulfil the -promise she had made to D'Aubin, and send away the idlers by whom she -was surrounded. Too long accustomed to the intriguing society of -Paris, and too well acquainted with the character of the wily woman -with whom he had now to deal, not to be armed at all points against -every art and deception, D'Aubin began to suspect that the Duchess was -trifling with him for some particular purpose, and was seeking to -occupy him with other matters, till some moment of importance, to -himself or his cousin, was irretrievably lost.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark!" he exclaimed, as this thought crossed his mind; "there is the -clock of St. Gervais striking one, and I must really seek my lord the -Duke."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hear no clock," replied the Duchess--nor could she, for none had -struck--"I hear no clock! But not yet, D'Aubin, not yet; I am not yet -going to slip the jesses of my <i>faucon gentil</i>, after having just -recovered him from so long a flight. Stay you with me, D'Aubin, and I -will send and see if my brother be within. You go, Mont-Augier," she -added, turning to one of the young cavaliers, who instantly sprang to -obey her; but, ere he reached the door, the Duchess, by a sudden -movement, placed herself near him; and, while D'Aubin was for a moment -occupied by some other person present, she said, in a low voice, "Do -not return, do not return: we must keep the Count away from Mayenne, -or they will together spoil some of our best schemes."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin's eye turned upon her; and his quick suspicions might have -gone far to counteract her purposes, had not Madame de Montpensier, -almost as soon as Mont-Augier's back was turned, contrived, on various -pretences, to dismiss the rest of her little court. Left thus alone -with a fascinating and beautiful woman, who condescended to court his -society, D'Aubin could not resist the temptation to trifle away with -her half an hour of invaluable time, though he knew all her arts, and -even suspected that, on the present occasion, they were employed -against him for insidious purposes. He was on the watch, however, and, -ere long, the clatter of many horses' feet in the court-yard caught -his attention, and led him instantly to conclude that the Duke of -Mayenne was about to go forth, without having seen him. It was now all -in vain that Madame de Montpensier, who likewise heard the sounds, and -attributed them to the same cause, endeavoured to occupy his attention -by every little art of coquetry. D'Aubin started up, and, in gay, but -resolute terms, expressed his determination of seeing the Duke ere he -left the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">To what evasion Madame de Montpensier would have had recourse, is -difficult to say; but, ere she could reply, the door opened, and a -lady entered, whom we will not pause here to describe. Suffice it, -that she was the widow of the murdered Duke of Guise, and that, though -her person wore the weeds, her face betrayed few of the sorrows, of -widowhood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Catherine! Catherine!" she exclaimed, entering; "there is our slow -brother of Mayenne just returned, and calling for you so quickly that -one would think he were himself as nimble as Harry of Navarre."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Returned! I knew not that he was absent!" replied the Duchess de -Montpensier, with an air of irrepressible mortification, on finding -that all her arts had been thrown away, and, instead of preventing -D'Aubin from seeing her brother ere he went forth, had only tended to -keep the Count there till he returned. A meaning smile, too, on the -lip of D'Aubin, served to increase her chagrin; and she exclaimed, -with a slight touch of pettish impatience in her tone, "Well, well, I -go to him; and you, my fair sister, had better stay and console this -tiresome man, till my return."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duchess of Guise saw that something had gone wrong; but D'Aubin -laughed, and replied, as Madame de Montpensier turned towards the -door, "May I request you to tell his Highness that the tiresome man -waits an audience; and, as his business will be explained in few -words, he will not detain the Duke so long as he has detained Madame -de Montpensier,--or as, perhaps, I might say, more truly, Madame de -Montpensier has detained him,--probably under a mistake;" and he made -her a low and significant bow, to which she only replied by shaking -her finger at him as she passed through the doorway.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is the Duke?" she demanded eagerly of the pages in the -corridor, who started up at her approach; and then, scarcely listening -to their answer, she hurried on to the room in which she expected to -find him, and opened the door without ceremony. The Duke was seated at -a table, hastily sealing some letters, while a courier, booted, -spurred, and armed, stood by his side, ready to bear them to their -destinations as soon as the packets were complete.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, how now, Catherine!" he exclaimed, turning towards her as she -entered, and, in so doing, spilling the boiling wax over his broad -hand, without suffering the pain to produce the slightest change of -expression on his heavy, determined countenance; "why, how now, -Catherine! you have been tampering, I find, with things wherein you -have no right to meddle. What is this business about the young Marquis -of St. Real? Is it not bad enough that that rash boy, Aumale, should -lose me a battle beneath the walls of Senlis, without my sister losing -me my honour?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tush, nonsense, Duke of Mayenne!" replied his sister; "Nonsense, I -tell you! If you intend that packet for Senlis, you may spare the wax, -and your trouble, and your fingers, for it shall never go!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said the Duke, pressing firm upon it the broad seal of his -arms; "indeed! and why not? Do you not know me better than that, my -fair sister? Do you not know that my word, or my safe-conduct, was -never in life violated by myself, and never shall be violated by any -one else with impunity?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All very true! all very true, Charles of Mayenne!" she replied; -"but, in the first place, I tell you that your safe-conduct cannot be -said to be violated, because some friends of mine choose to help this -young St. Real to pursue his journey on the very road for which the -safe-conduct was given; and, in the second place, there is no use of -sending to Mortfontaine or Nanteuil either, for within an hour St. -Real will be, I trust, in Paris."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then within an hour he shall be set at liberty!" replied the Duke; -"for I shall suffer no quibbling with my honour: he shall be free to -come and free to go, till the term of the safe-conduct expires."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense, Charles!" replied the Duchess; "do not talk like -the man in the mystery. Send this fellow away, and let me speak with -you calmly; for here is the Count d'Aubin already in the house; and, -if you go on vapouring in this way, you may miss a golden opportunity -of gaining more than the battle of Senlis has lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duke made a sign for the courier to withdraw. "I know your skill -well, Kate!" he said, as the man left the room, "and am far from -wishing to counteract your views; but neither must you meddle with my -schemes, nor affect my honour. Now let me hear what it is you have -done, and what you propose to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For the done first, then," replied Madame de Montpensier: "what I -have done is simply this:--Hearing from good authority that this St. -Real had left his troops under the command of his Lieutenant, and, -while his cousin D'Aubin went to join Longueville, at Chantilly, had -shown a strong inclination to seek the camp of the Henrys before he -came to Paris, I thought it much better to change his destination, and -bring him hither, well knowing that the first step is all. So much for -the past! and now for the future. Leave him but in my hands two days; -and if, in that time, I do not find a way, by one means or another, to -make him put his hand to the Union, and draw his sword for Mayenne, -why, set him free, in God's name! and then talk of your honour and -your safe-conducts as much as you like. He shall be well and kindly -treated, upon my word!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duke smiled. "I doubt not that, Catherine," he said; "you and your -fair sister of Guise, who, I suppose, has some hand in the affair, are -not such hard-hearted dames, I know, as to use harsh measures, when -tender ones will do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, Mayenne," she answered, "if we bestow our smiles to -promote your interest, you, at least, have no occasion to complain, -good brother: but you consent, is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On condition that no harshness is used--that I know not where he -is--that I see him not--and, that he finds no means for applying for -liberation to me: for on the instant I set him free!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Manifold conditions!" replied his sister; "but they shall be all -complied with. And now for the Count d'Aubin. If we can but win St. -Real, I will promise you D'Aubin; for I know one or two of the good -Count's secrets, which give me some tie upon him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hold him by a stronger bond," replied the Duke; "the bond of -interest, Catherine; for, by my faith, if he quit not soon him whom -Beatrice of Ferrara calls the crowned Vice at St. Cloud, I will give -the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt to some better friend of the League. -I am glad he is come, for I may give him a gentle notice to decide -more speedily."</p> - -<p class="normal">At the name of Beatrice de Ferrara, the cheek of Madame de Montpensier -reddened, and her brow contracted; and, without noticing the -concluding words of her brother, she replied, "I hate that woman, that -Beatrice of Ferrara!" and as she spoke, she moved absently towards the -door. The Duke marked her with a smile, and followed, saying, "Well, -well, where is this Count d'Aubin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duchess led the way to the apartment in which he had been left -with the Duchess de Guise, and where she still found him, bandying -repartees with the fair widow, and with the Chevalier d'Aumale, who -had lately been added to the party. The entrance of the Duke of -Mayenne, however, at once put a stop to the light jests which were -flying thick and fast; and the Duke, without preface, entered upon the -subject of D'Aubin's journey to Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good morrow! Monsieur le Comte," said he, with an air of -unconsciousness, which his somewhat inexpressive countenance enabled -him easily to assume. "Right glad was I of your application for a -safe-conduct last night, doubting not that, by this time, you are -heartily tired of consorting with the effeminate rabble of painted -minions and Huguenot boors gathered together at St. Cloud, and are -come to support the Catholic faith, with a sharp sword, that has been -somewhat too long employed against her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your Highness's compliment to the sharpness of my sword," replied -D'Aubin, "does not, I am afraid, extend to the sharpness of my wit; -for the occurrences which have taken place within the last five days -are surely not calculated to bring over a cousin of the Marquis of St. -Real to the party of the Catholic League, or to raise very high the -character of dealers in Spanish Catholicon."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duke of Mayenne turned a sharp and somewhat angry glance upon -Madame de Montpensier; but to D'Aubin he replied coldly, "You seem -angry, Monsieur le Comte d'Aubin; and as it is far from my wish to -give just cause for anger to a French nobleman, whose good sense, I am -sure, will, sooner or later, detach him from a party composed of all -that is either infamous or heretical, if you will explain the subject -of your wrath, I will do all that is in my power to satisfy you, if I -shall find your complaints just and reasonable."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My complaint is simply this, my lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, smiling -at the air of unconsciousness which Mayenne assumed:--"If my -imagination have not deceived me, somewhat less than a month -ago, Charles, Duke of Mayenne vouchsafed, under the title of -lieutenant-general of the kingdom, to grant a regular safe-conduct to -a noble gentleman called the Marquis of St. Real, in order that the -said Marquis might visit, in safety, the capital of this country, as -well as the court of King Henry, in order to judge between the -factions which strangle this unhappy land, and take his part -accordingly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True," said the Duke of Mayenne, bowing his head, "true, we did so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, my lord," continued D'Aubin, "is it not equally true -that, when my cousin, St. Real, thought fit to leave his forces at a -sufficient distance from either army to give him an opportunity of -joining which he pleased hereafter, and was advancing calmly to confer -with the King, he was entrapped by false information, surrounded by a -party wearing the green scarfs of the League, and carried off, in -direct contravention of the safe-conduct you had given him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not affect to deny, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied the Duke,--and -Madame de Montpensier looked in no small anxiety while he spoke; "I -will not affect to deny, that the rumour of some such skirmish as you -speak of has reached me--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Skirmish, my lord Duke!" exclaimed D'Aubin; "there has been no -skirmish in the business; the simple facts are these:--My cousin, with -only twenty gentlemen in his train, was surrounded by a party of two -hundred men; and, of course, offered no resistance. He produced your -safe-conduct, however; but it was set at nought and the leaders of the -band gave him very sufficiently to understand, that they had your own -authority for what they did. Such, at least, is the account brought to -me by one of my cousin's attendants, who contrived to effect his -escape; and I now make the charge boldly and straightforwardly, in -order that you may have the opportunity of clearing yourself at once; -or, that the spot of darkness, which such a transaction must affix to -the character of the Duke of Mayenne, may be stamped upon it in -characters which no aftertime can efface."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duke reddened, and bit his lip. "You make me angry, sir!" he -said--"you make me angry!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No cause for anger, my lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, "if you be clear -of this transaction. It is I who am a friend to the character of the -Duke of Mayenne, by giving him an instant opportunity of clearing -it;--and let me say, my lord, if you be not free from share in this -business," he added, sternly and boldly, "you may find that you are -not the only one who is made angry: for, putting aside all respect to -your high rank, and to the station which you hold, I shall urge the -matter against you as noble to noble, and gentleman to gentleman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was ever the like heard?" exclaimed Madame de Montpensier. "Heed him -not, Brother of Mayenne! heed him not; the man is mad, raving mad!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so mad, nor so foolish, lady," replied D'Aubin, his lip bending -into a slight smile, "as to be turned from my purpose, either by sweet -words, or angry ones. My lord Duke," he continued, approaching nearer -to the Duke of Mayenne, who had taken a hasty turn in the room, as if -to give his passion vent before he spoke; "my lord Duke, I mean not to -offend you; but my cousin has suffered wrong, and that wrong must be -redressed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have spoken too boldly, Count d'Aubin," replied Mayenne, to whom -the considerations of policy had by this time restored the calmness of -which personal anger had deprived him: "but I must make excuses for -the warmth of affection which you seem to bear your cousin; and, in -reply to your charge, I have merely to say, that the first correct -information respecting this event"--and he turned a somewhat -reproachful glance upon Madame de Montpensier--"has been received from -yourself; that the capture of your cousin was unauthorized by, and -unknown to me; that I know not precisely in whose hands he is; and, -that I promise you, upon my honour, he shall be set free as soon as -ever I meet with him. Farther still, I pledge myself to find him and -liberate him before three days have expired, and to punish, most -severely, those who are concerned, in case he have met with any -ill-treatment whatever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your promise goes farther than even I could expect, my lord Duke," -replied D'Aubin, in a softened tone; "and I most sincerely thank you -for having met so candidly a charge which I may, perhaps, have urged -too boldly, as your Highness says. Forgive my hastiness, my lord; for, -on my honour, in these times of indifference, it is sometimes -necessary to give way to a little rashness, in order to show that we -have some heart and feeling left."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We esteem you all the more highly for it," answered the Duke, "and -only regret, Monsieur d'Aubin, that one who can so well feel what is -right and noble, in some points, should attach himself to a party -stained with murder, treachery, falsehood, and many a vice that I will -not number; while sense, and wisdom, and good feeling should all -induce him to take the more patriotic part that we are in arms to -maintain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, let me add, his own interest also," said Madame de Montpensier, -"should lead him to join us here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wisely reserving the best argument for the last!" joined in the -Chevalier d'Aumale. "The great God Interest, first cousin to the -little God Mammon, is powerful both with Catholic and Huguenot, -Leaguer and Royalist; and doubtless, beautiful priestess, if you can -show that the Deity favours the League more than its opponents, you -will soon bring over Monsieur d'Aubin to worship at his shrine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That can be easily shown," rejoined the Duke of Mayenne, following -the idea of the Chevalier d'Aumale, half in jest and half in earnest: -"Has not the god already put at our disposal sundry Huguenot lands and -lordships, purses well stuffed with gold, and, above all, the hand of -more than one fair heiress? On my word! Monsieur d'Aubin," he added, -assuming a more serious and feeling tone, "far would it be from me to -hold out to you views of interest, in order to bring you over to the -party of the Faith, did not those views of interest coincide entirely -with your honour, your reputation, and your duty."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin mused for a moment, and then answered laughing, "I never yet -did hear, my lord, that interest did not bring a long train of seeming -virtues, to give greater strength to her own persuasions: and yet, I -do not see how my honour could be raised by abandoning my king at a -moment of his greatest need; how my reputation could be increased by -quitting a party which I have long served; or how my duty is to be -done by breaking my oath of allegiance to my legitimate sovereign."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thus, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied the Duke:--"if you are a man of -honour,--and most truly do I hold you to be such,--you will flee the -society of those who have none; if you have a fair reputation, you -will quit a court whose very breath is infamy; and, if you hold -sincerely to the Catholic faith, you cannot refuse to turn your sword -against its most inveterate enemies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, my lord!" replied D'Aubin; "King Henry holds the Catholic -faith as well as yourself; and, indeed, loves monks and priests rather -better than either you or I do. To him, also, have I sworn fidelity -and attachment, as my lawful sovereign; and I will neither break my -oath, nor forget my allegiance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God, that the thread of a tyrant's life is spun of very -perishable materials!" said Madame de Montpensier, with a significant -glance at the Duchess de Guise; "and were this Henry dead, we might -well count upon you, D'Aubin: is it not so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin replied not for a moment; and the soft sleepy-eyed Duchess of -Guise could not refrain from pursuing the subject jestingly; although -her sister-in-law endeavoured, by a chiding look, to stay her, till -D'Aubin had answered. "Perhaps the noble Count may be a Huguenot -himself." she exclaimed: "who knows, in these strange changeable -times----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or, perhaps, this dearly-beloved cousin of his may have been one -these twenty years," said the Chevalier d'Aumale; "for shut up in that -old castle of theirs, these St. Reals may have been Turks and -infidels, for anything that we can tell."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wish there was as good a Catholic present as St. Real," replied -D'Aubin; "and as for myself, though not very learned in all its -mysteries, I hold the faith of my fathers, and will not abandon it. My -lord of Mayenne, I would fain speak with you for one moment, in this -oriel here," he added.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duke of Mayenne instantly complied; and, advancing with the Count -into the deep recess of one of the windows at the farther end of the -room, he listened to what D'Aubin had to say, and then replied -gravely. The Count rejoined; and, though the subject which they -discussed seemed to interest them highly, it might be inferred, from -the laughter which occasionally mingled with their discourse, that -their conversation had taken a turn towards some topic less unpleasant -than that which had been broached at the beginning of their first -interview.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meantime, however, a new personage had been added to the -party at the other end of the room. He was a tall gaunt man, of about -five-and-forty, with aquiline features, a keen kite-like eye, fine -teeth, and curly hair and beard: in short, he was one of those men who -are called handsome by people in whose computation of beauty the -expression of mind, and soul, and feeling make no part of the account. -His dress was not only military, but of such a character as to show -that his most recent occupation had been the exercise of his -profession. The steel cuirass was still upon his shoulders, the heavy -boots upon his legs; and, though some attempt had been made to brush -away the dust of a journey, a number of long brown streaks, on various -parts of his apparel, evinced, that whatever toilet he had made had -been hasty and incomplete.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as Madame de Montpensier caught the first glance of his person -entering the saloon, she made him an eager sign not to come in; but he -either did not perceive, or was unwilling to obey the signal, and -proceeded, with an air of perfect assurance, till the Duchess, -starting up, advanced to meet him; trusting, apparently, that the -eager conversation which was going on between D'Aubin and the Duke -would prevent either of them from remarking her man[oe]uvres at the -other end of the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What, in misfortune's name, brought you here?" she said, giving a -hasty glance towards the oriel, and perceiving at once that she must -make the best of what had occurred, for that D'Aubin's eye had already -marked the entrance of the stranger; "what, in misfortune's name, -brought you here just now? Here is D'Aubin himself inquiring furiously -after this young kestril, that we have taken such pains to catch; and -Mayenne, like a fool, standing on his honour, has promised to set him -free as soon as ever he finds dim. So you know nothing about the -matter: pretend utter ignorance; and swear you have never seen the -young Marquis."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I can well swear," replied the other, in the same low tone, but -with a slight Teutonic accent; "that I can well swear, most beautiful -and charming of princesses! for I took especial care to keep out of -the way while the poor bird was being limed; and have ridden on before -to tell you that, by this time, he must be safe in my house, in the -rue St. Jacques."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep him close and sure, then," replied Madame de Montpensier, "at -least till his shrewd cousin is out of the city; for Mayenne will let -us keep him but two days; and we must work him to our purpose before -that time expires." She had just time to finish her sentence, ere -Mayenne and D'Aubin quitted the recess of the oriel window; and the -latter, advancing towards the place where she stood, addressed her -companion as an old acquaintance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Sir Albert of Wolfstrom," he said, with an ironical smile, -"faithful and gallant ever! Receiving the soft commands of this -beautiful lady with the same devotion as in days of yore, I see! But I -have reason to believe that you are lately become acquainted with one -of my cousins, and have laid him under some obligations."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no;" replied Wolfstrom, with a grin, which showed his white teeth -to the back; "no, no: if you mean Monsieur de Rus, we have been very -intimate ever since that night when we three played together at -Vincennes, and when I won from you ten thousand livres, Monsieur -d'Aubin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, I will win them back again," replied D'Aubin, "the first -truce that comes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I don't know that," rejoined the German; "you are always unlucky with -the dice, D'Aubin: you should be more careful, or, by my faith, the -Jews will have all your fine estates in pawn."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin coloured deeply; for, as Wolfstrom well knew, the hint that he -threw out of excessive expenses, and consequent embarrassments, went -home. Mayenne, however, who by those words gained a new insight into -the situation of the Count, smiled, well satisfied; assured, from that -moment, that those who had it in their power to grant or to withhold -the hand of the rich heiress of Menancourt would not be long without -the support of Philip d'Aubin.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count recovered himself in a moment; and, turning the matter off -with a pointed jest, which hit the German nearly as hard, he prepared -to take his leave before anything more unpleasant could be said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall look for the performance of your promise, my lord Duke," he -said, as he turned to depart; "and three days hence, shall hope to -hear that my cousin has been liberated."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, to make sure of it, yourself," replied Madame de Montpensier, -holding out her hand, which he raised in gallant reverence to his -lips; "come and make sure of it, yourself. Sup with me at Rene -Armandi's, our dearly beloved perfumer, who has a right choice and -tasteful cook; and, though the profane rabble insist upon it that he -used to aid our godmother, of blessed memory, Catherine, mother of -many bad kings, in sending to heaven, or the other abode, various -persons, to prepare a place for her, we will ask him, on this -occasion, to give us dainties, and not poisons."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must send me a safe-conduct, however," replied D'Aubin, laughing, -"and I will come with all my heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A safe-conduct you shall have," answered Mayenne, "and as many as you -like. But, remember, I do not make myself responsible for Armandi no, -nor Catherine, either," he added, with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! I will trust her Highness," replied D'Aubin: "the only thing I -fear are her eyes;" and, with a low bow, and a glance which left it -difficult to determine whether the gallant part of his speech was jest -or earnest, he took his leave, and, mounting his horse, rode away -towards the gates of Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He teases me, that Count d'Aubin," said Madame de Montpensier: "I -don't know whether to love him, or to hate him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! if he teases you, you will love him, of course," replied the -Chevalier d'Aumale.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think you may love him, Kate," replied the Duke. "At all events, -one thing is very certain, that Philip Count d'Aubin is varying fast -towards the League; and if you, Catherine, by some of your wild -schemes, do not spoil my more sober ones, we shall soon have him as -one of our most strenuous and thoroughgoing partisans: for you know, -Wolfstrom," he added, laying his broad hand significantly upon the -iron-covered shoulder of the German, who, together with three thousand -lansquenets, had deserted from the party of Henry III. on the pretence -of wanting pay; "for you know, Wolfstrom, there is no one so zealous -as a renegade!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER X.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Those were busy days in Paris! So manifold were the intrigues, so -frequent the changes, so rapid the events, of that time, that it would -have required almost more than mortal strength and activity, in those -who played any prominent part amongst the factions of the day, to -accomplish the incessant business of every succeeding hour, had not -that levity, for which the Parisians have been famous in every age of -history, stood them in better stead than philosophy could have done, -and taught them to consider the fierce turmoil of party, the eager -anxiety of intrigue, and even the appalling scenes of strife and -bloodshed in which they lived, rather as playthings and as pageants, -than as fearful realities.</p> - -<p class="normal">No sooner had the conference terminated, of which we have given an -outline in the last chapter, than Madame de Montpensier, leaving her -brother of Mayenne to break his somewhat bitter jest upon the leader -of the lansquenets, hurried from the room; but, ere the conversation -which succeeded was over, though it lasted but a very brief space, she -reappeared, covered with what was then called a penitent's cloak, and -holding her mask in her hand, as if prepared to go forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beckoning Wolfstrom towards her, she spoke with him for a few moments, -in an under tone; and then, concluding with, "Well, be as quick as -possible, and bring me some certain tidings," she again quitted the -apartment, without making Mayenne, who was conversing upon lighter -matters with the Duchess de Guise and the Chevalier d'Aumale, a sharer -in her plans and purposes.</p> - -<p class="normal">We shall not follow the progress of her chair through the long, -tortuous, busy streets of Paris; nor record how her attendants cleared -the way through many a crowd, gathered together round the stall of -some great bookseller, or before the stage on which some itinerant -friar, like a mountebank of modern times, sold his treasure of relics, -or chaplets, or authentic pictures of saints and martyrs, or the -still-valued indulgence, which the church of Rome did not fail to -grant to those who had money and folly enough to purchase either the -right of eating flesh, while others were doomed to fish, or the -gratification of any other little carnal inclination, not held amongst -irremissible sins. Suffice it that--amidst stinks, and shouts, and -bawlings, mingled now and then with the "shrill squeaking of the -wry-necked fife," and various savoury odours were wafted from the -kitchens in which cooks, and traiteurs, and aubergistes prepared all -sorts of viands, from the fat quail, and luscious ortolan, to good -stout horse-flesh and delicate cat--the Princess's vehicle bore her -on, till wide at her approach flew open the gates of the Dominican -convent, in the rue St. Jacques, and, entering the first court, the -Duchess set down, under the archway, on the left-hand side.</p> - -<p class="normal">After whispering a word to the <i>frere portier</i>, the errant daughter of -the noble house of Guise was led through the long and narrow passages -of the building, not to the parlour which usually formed the place of -reception by the priors of the convent, but to a small room, which had -but one door for entrance, and but one narrow window to admit the -needful light. The furniture was as simple as it could be, consisting -of five or six long-backed ebony chairs, a table, a crucifix, a -missal, and a human skull, not, as usual, nicely cleaned and polished, -so as to take away all idea of corruption from the round, smooth, -meaningless ball of shining bone, but rough and foul as it came from -the earth, with the black dirt sticking in the hollows where once had -shone the light of life, and the green mould of the grave spreading -faint and sickly over the fleshless chaps.</p> - -<p class="normal">Standing before the table, with his arms crossed upon his breast, and -his dark gleaming eye fixed upon the memento of the tomb, stood a tall -pale man, habited in the black robe of a prior of the order of St. -Dominick, with the white under-garment of the Dominicans still -apparent. He raised his eyes as the Duchess entered, but fixed them -again immediately upon the skull; and, ere he proceeded to notice in -words the approach of his visitant, he muttered what appeared to be a -brief prayer, and bowed towards the cross.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, madam!" he said, at length; "I have been eagerly expecting -you; for it will not be long ere vespers, and we have much to -consider."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been forced to delay," replied the Duchess, "in order to save -some of our very best schemes from going wrong. But is not Armandi -come? He should have been here an hour ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is here, though he has not been here so long," replied the Prior. -"I made them keep him without till you came; for I love not his -neighbourhood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I ought to pray your forgiveness, father, for bringing him here at -all," said the Duchess; "but, in truth--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Make no excuse, lady, make no excuse!" answered the Prior. "We labour -for the holy church--we labour for the faith; and there is no weapon -put within our reach by God, but we have law and licence to use it -against the rank and corrupted enemies of the church militant upon -earth. Did not the blessed St. Dominick himself say, 'Let the sword do -its work, and let the fire do its work, till the threshing-floor of -the house of God be thoroughly purged and purified of the husks and -the chaff which pollute it?' Did not he himself lead the way in the -extirpation of the heretics of old, till the rivers of Languedoc, from -their source even to the ocean, flowed red with the foul blood of the -enemies of the faith? And shall we, his poor followers, halt like -fastidious girls at any means of pursuing the same great object, of -obtaining the same holy end? As I hope to reach the heaven that has -long received our sainted founder, if this Armandi can find means of -accomplishing our mighty purpose, I will embrace him as a brother, and -pronounce with my own lips his absolution from all the many sins of -his life, on account of that worthy act in defence of the Catholic -faith. Shall I call him in?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By all means!" said the Duchess, seating herself near the table: "by -all means! let us hear what he has devised."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prior of the Dominican, or rather, as it was called in Paris, the -Jacobine, convent, proceeded to the door, and made a sign to some one, -who, standing at the end of the long passage, seemed to wait his -commands; and, after a momentary pause, an inferior brother of the -order appeared, introducing the perfumer, habited in the same silks -and velvets wherewith we have seen him clothed when visited by -Beatrice of Ferrara, about an hour before. With a courtly sliding -step, inclined head, and rounded shoulders, Armandi advanced towards -the spot where the Duchess was seated; and, after laying his hand upon -his breast, and bowing low and reverently, drew back a step beside her -chair, as if waiting her commands, with a look of deep humility. The -Prior of the Jacobines seated himself at the same time, and looked -towards the Duchess, as if unwilling himself to begin the conversation -with the worthy coadjutor who had just joined them. Madame de -Montpensier, whose acquaintance with Armandi was of no recent date, -had not the same delicacy on the subject, but at once began, in the -familiar and jocular tone which the light dames of Paris were but too -much accustomed to use, towards the smooth minister of evil that stood -before her: "Well, pink of perfumers," she said, "let us hear what -means your ingenious brain has devised for accomplishing the little -object I mentioned to you some days ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beautiful as excellent, and bright as noble!" replied Armandi, in his -sweetest tone; "adorable princess, whose charms the lowest of her -slaves may reverently worship, sorry I am to say, that the enterprise -which you have been graciously pleased to propose to me, I--luckless -I!--am unable to undertake."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Duchess heard all his rhodomontade upon her charms--although -the very broadness of Armandi's flattery savoured somewhat of -mockery--with more complaisance than had been evinced towards him by -Beatrice of Ferrara; but the Prior listened with impatience to his -waste of words, and seemed to hear his concluding declaration with -disappointment and indignation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How is this?" cried he, "how is this? Surely thou, unscrupulous in -everything, affectest no vain qualms in regard to the tyrant at St. -Cloud! If thou holdest dear the Catholic faith,"--and the keen eyes of -the Prior fixed searching upon the soft smiling countenance of the -poisoner--"if thou art not infidel, or atheist, or Huguenot, thou wilt -clear away thy many sins, by exercising a trade, hellish in other -circumstances, in the only instance where it is not only justifiable -and praiseworthy, but where, by the great deliverance of the church, -it may merit you hereafter a crown of glory. Or is it, perchance," he -added, "that thou fearest because this tyrant is a king, and the son -of thy former patroness? I tell thee, that were he thine own brother, -as a good Catholic, thou shouldest not hesitate."</p> - -<p class="normal">Armandi listened to the vehement declamation of the monk with his -usual composed air, and half subdued smile, and at the end replied, -with every apparent reverence--"No, holy Father Bourgoin; you mistake -entirely your humble and devoted servant. I am not so presumptuous as -to think, that what such a holy man as you tells me to do can be -against either right or religion; and, besides, I would humbly beseech -you to give me absolution for anything I might do at your command; so -that, being a sincere and devoted Catholic, my conscience would be -quite at ease." There was the slightest possible curl on Armandi's lip -as he spoke, which in the eyes of the Dominican looked not unlike a -sneer; but his manner, as well as his words, was in every other point -respectful, and he went on in the same tone:--"Neither is it, reverend -father, that the royal object of the ministry which you wish me to -practise, has had more than one crown put upon his head, which makes -me halt; for I never yet could discover that the holy oil with which -he is anointed has the least resemblance to that elixir of life which -forbids the approach of death; or that in the golden circlet with -which his brows are bound lies any antidote for certain drugs that I -possess. Nor am I moved by considering that his most Christian Majesty -is the son of my dear and lamented mistress; for, taking into account -the troublous world in which we live, and the many difficulties, -dangers, and disasters which surround Henry at this moment, truly it -would be no uncharitable act to give him a safe and easy passport to -another world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then why, why," demanded the Duchess, "why do you hesitate to do so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sweet lady! it is because I cannot," answered Armandi: "the King's -precautions put all my arts at fault. Not a dish is set upon his -table, but a portion of it is tasted two hours before; his gloves -themselves are made within the circle of the court; his own apothecary -prepares the perfumes for his toilet; and the cosmetic mask Which he -wears in bed, to keep his countenance from the chill night air, is -manufactured by his own royal hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier and the Prior looked at each other with somewhat -sullen and disappointed looks; and Armandi added, "Unless you can get -me admitted to his household, I fear my skill can be of no avail."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have no such interest with the effeminate tyrant," replied Madame -de Montpensier, "and so this scheme is hopeless," she added. "But I -fear me, Armandi, that, from some love to this tyrant, or to his -minions, your will is less disposed to find the means than the means -difficult to be found."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, as I live, beautiful princess!" answered the poisoner, with more -eagerness than he often displayed. "No, as I live! I had once a -daughter, lady, as beautiful as you are; and it was her father's pride -that she should be wise and chaste: when one mid-day, in the open -streets of Paris, my child was met by the base minion, Saint Maigrin, -hot with pride, and vice, and wine. He treated her as if she had been -an idle courtesan; and how far he would have carried his brutality, -none but the dead can tell, had not a gentleman, whose name I know -not, rescued her from his hands: although so hurt and terrified, that, -ere long, she died. I called loudly for justice, lady--I called with -the voice of a father and a man; but I was heard by this Henry, who -has never been a father, and is but half a man. He mocked me openly: -but the house of Guise, in revenging their own wrongs, revenged mine; -and you may judge whether I would not willingly aid you to remove from -the earth one who has cumbered it too long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you absolutely cannot do it?" demanded the priest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot," answered Armandi; "but, if I may say so, reverend father, -I think you can."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, and how so?" asked the Prior, eagerly: "if it rests with me, it -is done; for, so help me Heaven! if this right hand could plant a -dagger in his heart, I would not pause between the conception and the -act: no, not the twinkling of an eye!--no, not the breathing of a -prayer! so sure am I that, by so doing, I should better serve the -Catholic faith, than had I the eloquence of St. Paul to preach it to -the world. How can I do it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Very simply, I think," replied the poisoner. "I have often remarked, -standing by the gate of your convent, or kneeling at the shrines at -Notre Dame, a dull, heavy-looking man, pale in the face, strong in the -body, and having but little meaning in his eye, except that when -before some relic, or the image of some favourite saint, a wild and -uncertain fire is seen to beam up but for a moment, and go out again -as soon. He seems about twenty years of age; and I met him now just -going forth as I came hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes! I know him well," replied the Prior: "you mean poor Brother -Clement; a simple, dull, enthusiastic youth, whose strong animal -passions now, most happily for himself, all centre in devotion."</p> - -<p class="normal">A dark and bitter smile curled the lips of René Armandi as he listened -to the Prior's account of the person on whom he himself had fixed as a -fit instrument for the foul and bloody schemes that were agitated so -tranquilly in their strange conclave. "Yes," he said; "yes, stupid he -is; wild, visionary, and enthusiastic, he seems to be; and the same -animal passions, which once plunged him in brutal lusts and foul -debauchery, may now act as a stimulus to drive home the dagger in the -cause of the Catholic faith!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The gleaming eyes of the Prior fixed sternly upon the countenance of -the poisoner while he spoke; and it seemed that no very Christian -feelings were excited in the bosom of the monk by the bitter and -sneering tone which the Italian employed. The suggestion, however, -which his words had implied, rather than expressed, instantly caught -his attention, and diverted his mind towards more important matter. -"Ha!" he exclaimed; "ha! think you he could be prevailed upon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have often remarked, reverend father," replied Armandi, who had -caught the transitory look of wrath as it had passed over the monk's -countenance, and who, being but little disposed to make an enemy of -one both powerful and unscrupulous, now spoke in a milder and more -deferential tone--"I have often remarked, reverend father, that there -are men in whose souls the animal part seems to be so much stronger -than the intellectual, that mere appetite drives them on to coarse -extremes in everything, however opposite and apparently incompatible. -Thus, do we not see," he asked, lowering his tone, as if he suspected -that the case he was about to put might be that of his auditor; "do we -not see that men, who, in their youth, have given themselves up -somewhat too freely to gallantry, and to those fair sins which the -church condemns in vain, in after-years wear the bare stones with -their bended knees, and tire all the saints in the calendar with -penitence and prayer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou speakest profanely," said the Prior: "is it not natural and just -that men, who have great sins to atone for, should do the deeper -penance when their conscience is awakened to repentance? But what if -it were even as thou wouldst sneeringly imply? How does this affect -our Brother Clement?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I reason wrongly," replied Armandi, "my reasoning affects him not; -but if my view is right, it matters much. I doubt, good father, that -it is always true repentance which brings the libertine to the altar. -My conviction is, that it is but one appetite gone, and another risen -up in its place; and amongst such men, had I some good and reasonable -cause,--some powerful motive to stir them up to action,--it is amongst -such men, I say, that I should seek for one to undertake fearlessly, -and execute resolutely, such a deed as that which has been proposed to -me: and let me say too," he continued, a natural tendency to sneer at -his companions getting the better of the moderation he had assumed; -"and let me say, too, that I would seek for one whose reasoning -powers, in the nice balance of the brain, would kick the beam when the -opposite scale were loaded with animal passion and vagrant -imagination. Do you understand me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prior made no reply; but, starting up from his seat, walked up and -down the room with his hands clasped, his head bent, and his lips -muttering. In the meanwhile, Madame de Montpensier beckoned Armandi -towards her, and held with him a brief conversation in an under tone. -His communication with her, however, seemed to be much more free and -unrestrained than it had been with the monk; for jest and laughter -appeared to take the place of shrewd and somewhat bitter discussion; -and, though looks of intelligence and significant gestures made up -fully one half of what passed, the lady and the poisoner seemed to -understand each other perfectly. Their conversation ended by Madame de -Montpensier exclaiming aloud, "Oh, never fear, never fear! To attain -that object I will act the angel myself, and go any lengths in that -capacity."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Reverend father," continued the Princess, "this scheme is a hopeful -one, easily executed, and involving no great risk."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prior paused, and turned to listen to the Duchess, who knew much -better how to treat him than Armandi. "What is the scheme, lady?" he -demanded: "as yet I have heard of none, except vague hints regarding a -brother of the order, mingled with sneers at religion and religious -men, which, in better days, would have had their reward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no, good father," replied the Duchess; "poor Armandi means no -evil. Answer me one or two questions: think you not that Henry,--the -excommunicated tyrant, the sacrilegious murderer of one of the -prelates of the holy church, the friend of heretics, who is at this -moment doing all that he can to spread heresy and destroy the Catholic -faith in France;--think you not that he is without the pale of law, -and that any means are justifiable to stop him in his damnable course, -and save the holy church and the Catholic population in this country?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not only do I think so," replied the Prior, vehemently, "but I think -that he who does stop him in his course will gain a crown of glory, -and would obtain, should death befall him in the act, the still more -glorious crown of martyrdom."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is enough, that is enough!" replied the Duchess; "I will explain -to you the whole scheme when we are alone. You, Armandi, go and -prepare everything that you spoke of,--the rose-coloured fire, and the -dress, and the wings, and come to me to-night, that we may arrange all -the rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">With profound and repeated bows, the perfumer was in the act of taking -his departure from the apartment where this iniquitous conference had -taken place, when three soft taps on the door arrested his progress, -and the next moment the same monk who had ushered him thither on the -arrival of the Duchess, announced that a noble gentleman without -craved to speak with Madame de Montpensier, according to her own -appointment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give him admittance, father! give him admittance!" cried the -Princess; "it is our faithful friend Wolfstrom, who brings me news of -other feats accomplished in the same good cause that occupies us -here."</p> - -<p class="normal">The order for his admission was immediately given by the Prior; and as -Armandi passed out, the leader of the lansquenets entered, exchanging -glances of recognition with the poisoner, the circle of whose -acquaintances had extended itself, by one means or another, to almost -every one possessing any degree of rank, wealth, or influence in -Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, lady!" said the soldier of fortune, after a formal bow to the -Prior, "the stag is safely housed, and we wait but your commands to -follow up the sport."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But have you learned any particulars of his mind and character?" -demanded the Duchess, eagerly; "have you discovered which way we best -may lead or drive him to the point? Remember, our time is but short, -and much remains to be done in those brief three days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith! there seems but little to be learned, lady," replied the -soldier. "As I promised, I took care that he should have companionship -with none but those who would take up every light word, to let us see -into the dark nooks of his heart, and report all truly that they -learned; but, by the Lord! it seems that there are no dark nooks to be -found out! All is open and clear--he seems simple as the day, -religious in the true Catholic faith, sir Prior, bold and calm, but -having little to take hold of, if it be not his devotion."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of whom speak you?" demanded the Prior, while Madame de Montpensier -fixed her fine dark eyes thoughtfully on the ground; "is it of the -young St. Real, of whom our noble lady here spoke some days since?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Albert of Wolfstrom nodded; and the Prior also fell into a fit of -meditation, seeming to revolve, like the Duchess, the means of dealing -with one of those characters, whose right simplicity of nature renders -them much more difficult to manage than even the wily, the worldly, -and the shrewd.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must think of this matter, Sir Albert," said the priest, "we must -think of this matter. Is he in safety at your house, do you think?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, by my honour, that is doubtful," answered the German. "My -lansquenets have active duty to perform; people are coming in -and out at all hours; and I never know when his Highness the -lieutenant-general himself may not make his appearance there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will never do!" said the Duchess; "that will never do--we must -send him to the Bastile. Mayenne will never venture there; for he -knows very well that within those walls he would meet many a sight -which his fine notions of honour and justice would compel him to -inquire into, to the mortification of his policy, and the destruction -of his prospects. We must have him to the Bastille."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your pardon there, madame," said the soldier, somewhat uncourteously; -"my prisoner goes not to the Bastille, wherever he goes! That foul -burgher demagogue Bussy le Clerc shall hold at his good pleasure no -prisoner of mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier's dark eye flashed, and her cheek reddened as -she listened to the bold tone of the mercenary leader; but all the -tangled and complicated political intrigues in which his services were -necessary, and perhaps some more private considerations also, rendered -her unwilling to break with one whose faith and integrity were -somewhat more than doubtful. She smothered her anger, therefore, and, -after a few moments' thought, replied, "I have it, I have it! He shall -be brought here. You say, Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, that, -notwithstanding the intimacy of his father with the Huguenots, he -seems to hold fast by the Catholic faith. You, reverend father, shall -try your oratory upon him; and, if possible, we must make him benefit -by all that we do to lead on Brother Clement to the point we desire. -You object not to this plan; do you, Sir Albert?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is more hopeful than the Bastile," replied the soldier; "and I -will bring him here with all my heart: but yet," he continued, with a -doubtful shake of the head: "but yet--though I cannot tell why--but -yet I have some fears that you will not find this young roebuck so -easy to manage as you imagine. There is something about him, I don't -know what, that makes me doubt the result."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! but we have means that you know not of," replied the Duchess, -"which, if he be in faith and truth a son of the holy church, must -bring him over to the Union for her defence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, I will bring him here," said the mercenary leader; "and -you, fair lady and reverend father, must do the rest."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away, then, quick! and you will find me here at your return," replied -the Duchess; "but take care that you meet not with Mayenne by the way, -for he will set him free to a certainty; and then all that we have -done will only tend to drive him over to the other party, instead of -gaining a powerful adherent for the League."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No fear, no fear!" replied Wolfstrom. "The distance is but a hundred -yards; and I will post scouts at the end of the street before we set -out." So saying, the leader of the lansquenets took his departure, -leaving Madame de Montpensier with the Prior of the Jacobine convent, -with whom an eager and interesting conversation instantly took place, -the consequences of which we may have to detail hereafter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XI.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="normal">We must now turn once more to the young Marquis of St. Real; and, -although the events which had befallen him since the death of his -father may have been gathered by the reader from what has passed in -the chapters immediately preceding, it may not be unnecessary to -recapitulate here, as briefly as possible, the occurrences which had -placed him a prisoner in the midst of Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">According to the promise which Henry of Navarre had obtained from the -old Marquis of St. Real on his death-bed, that nobleman's son, as soon -as possible after the last rites had been paid to his father's memory, -had prepared to take the field in behalf of one of the great -contending parties which then struggled for mastery in France. He had -applied for and obtained, both from King Henry III. on the one part, -and from the Duke of Mayenne on behalf of the League, a safe-conduct -to visit the camp and the capital, accompanied by twenty retainers. -The rest of his forces, it was expressly stipulated, were to remain at -the distance of fifteen leagues from the royalist army; and the -position of the two kings, as they advanced to lay siege to Paris, had -compelled him, in compliance with this stipulation, to deviate from -his direct road to Paris, and accompany, for a short way, his cousin, -who was advancing to reinforce the troops of Longueville and La Noue. -Although strongly pressed by messengers from those two generals to -decide at once in favour of the royal cause, and join the partisan -force which they commanded, St. Real steadily refused to do so, till, -according to the determination he had expressed, and in consideration -of which he had obtained a safe-conduct from Mayenne, he should have -visited the head-quarters of the king and of the League.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as he had obtained such a position for his forces as enabled -him to leave them in perfect security, he set out with his small -train, purposing to proceed first to the camp of the two Henrys, as -the nearest at the moment, and then to visit Paris. He had scarcely -advanced, however, half a day's march on his way, when he was suddenly -surrounded by an immensely superior body of reitters and lansquenets, -who had been sent forth from Paris for the express purpose of -obtaining possession of his person. How Madame do Montpensier had -gained such accurate intelligence of all his movements, was a matter -of surprise even to her own immediate confidants; but it was very well -understood that the orders, in consequence of which this bold stroke -was executed, emanated from her; and the leaders of the mercenaries, -who captured St. Real, were not only furnished with the exact details -of his line of march, but also with a ready answer to the indignant -appeal which he instantly made, on his arrest, to the safe-conduct he -possessed under the Duke of Mayenne's own hand. That safe-conduct, -they replied, had been given him in order to facilitate a peaceful -visit to Paris; while he, on the contrary, had not only led his troops -into such a position as to enable him to give strong support to the -Duke of Longueville, but had even detached a body to aid that nobleman -in the battle of Senlis.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in vain St. Real explained to his captors, that the troops -which had left him were the immediate retainers of his cousin, the -Count d'Aubin, over whom he had no authority, and that he himself had -positively refused to take part with the Duke of Longueville. His -remonstrance was without effect; and, although he well knew his own -innocence, he could not but admit that the reasoning against him was -specious. In reply to all his explanations, the captain of the -lansquenets simply urged that he had no power to release him, and that -his justification must be made to the Duke of Mayenne himself. To -submit, therefore, was a matter of necessity; and, as he was in every -respect well treated, the young Marquis did submit without any very -angry feelings, concluding that he might as well reverse the order of -his proceedings, and first visit Paris instead of the royal camp.</p> - -<p class="normal">On his arrival in the capital, he demanded to be carried instantly to -the presence of the Duke of Mayenne; but this application was evaded, -it being boldly asserted by those who held him in their hands that the -Duke was absent from the city. Hitherto his attendants had been -permitted to bear him company; and as he had ridden through the -crowded streets of the city, he had felt less as a prisoner than as a -voluntary visiter of the great metropolis; but when, after having been -detained for some time at the house of Albert of Wolfstrom, he was -told that he must accompany his captor to the convent of the -Dominicans, whither only one servant could be permitted to attend him, -he began to suspect that the bonds of his imprisonment were being -straitened; and he remonstrated with calm but firm language, -reiterating his demand to be brought before the Duke of Mayenne, and -expressing his determination to hold the name of that nobleman up to -the reprobation of all honourable men, if he suffered any of his -adherents to violate the safe-conduct from his hand with impunity.</p> - -<p class="normal">Wolfstrom, however, who on more than one occasion had shown himself -but little tender of his own fair fame, could not be expected to feel -much solicitude for that of another; and, although he held the potent -Duke in some degree of awe, he had become hardened by the impunity -which every sort of falsehood enjoyed in the good easy times of civil -war, and doubted not that, in the end, he should find means of -extricating himself from the consequences of the present intrigue, as -he had done in regard to many which had preceded, namely, by the -unlimited command of impudence, shrewdness, and three thousand -mercenaries.</p> - -<p class="normal">He turned a deaf ear, therefore, to the complaints of St Real; and the -young Marquis was conducted to the convent of the Jacobins, in the -midst of precautions which he did not fail to mark, and from which he -augured little good in regard to the intentions of his gaolers.</p> - -<p class="normal">The distance from the dwelling of the mercenary leader to the convent -was but short; and the people of Paris were well accustomed to see -parties of soldiers pass through their streets: but the indescribable -pleasure of staring, in this instance, as in all others, collected a -little crowd round the centre of bustle; and the gates of the -Jacobins, as they opened to receive St. Real, were surrounded by -between twenty and thirty persons of different conditions. To those -who have eaten sufficiently of the tree of good and evil in a great -capital to know <i>that they are naked</i>, the presence of a gaping mob to -witness the fact of their being dragged along like culprits by a party -of rude soldiers, would be a subject of annoyance. St. Real felt -injured, but not ashamed or afraid; and fixing his eye upon the most -respectable personage of the crowd, he suddenly stopped where he -stood, and, ere any one could prevent him, exclaimed, in a loud and -distinct voice, "My friend, if the Duke of Mayenne be in Paris, you -will serve both him and me by telling him that the Marquis of St. Real -is here detained, contrary to the Duke's safe-conduct and his honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will tell him no such thing, as you value your ears!" shouted -Albert of Wolfstrom, fixing his eyes upon the Parisian with a marking -glance, which seemed to intimate that he would not be easily forgotten -by the wrath of the German leader in case of disobedience. The -Parisian drew back, determined from the very first to practise that -sort of wisdom which those long resident in great cities, and much -habituated to scenes of contention and intrigue, do not fail to -acquire; namely, to meddle with nothing that does not personally -concern them. There was another person present, however, whose -diminutive stature, and the simplicity of garb which he had assumed, -combined to conceal him from the notice of either St. Real or the -mercenary leader; no other, indeed, than the young Marquis's dwarf -page, Bartholo; who, peeping through the open spaces between the other -personages that formed the little crowd, saw and heard all that passed -without attracting notice himself. Slipping out at once from amongst -the rest, he made his way down the street, holding one of his usual -muttered consultations with himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, shall I tell Mayenne," he said, "that the great baby is caught, -and shut up here in the Jacobins, like a young imprudent rat, in a -politic rat-trap; or shall I let him lie there for his pains, till -that spoilt boy, D'Aubin, has married the other fair-haired baby, and -that matter is irrevocable?"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused for a moment at the end of the street, revolving the -question he had put to himself in silence. "No, no," he added, at -length; "no, no, there I might outwit myself; these Leaguers are too -cunning for that. If they can't get St. Real on any other terms, they -may marry him to this Eugenie de Menancourt, and spoil all my schemes -at once. If Mayenne hears publicly where he is, he must set him free, -for his honour's sake. Then will he go off, in the heat of his anger, -to the people at St. Cloud; D'Aubin will come over to the League, -marry the girl, and all will be safe. Yes, yes, to Mayenne! I will to -Mayenne!"</p> - -<p class="normal">In consequence of this determination, he proceeded as quickly, but as -quietly as possible, to the Hotel de Guise, and demanded to speak with -the Duke of Mayenne,--a privilege which every one in Paris claimed in -regard to that leader, whose power was principally based upon his -popularity. The Duke, however, had by this time set out to watch the -progress of the skirmishes which were taking place almost hourly in -the Pré aux Clercs, and the dwarf, not choosing that the tidings he -had to communicate should be given in any other than a public manner, -refused to intrust them to Mayenne's retainers, and retired, resolving -to repeat his visit early the next morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time St. Real was hurried into the convent, the gates were -shut, and, preceded by two or three of the Dominicans, he was led -along the dark and gloomy passages of the building, towards the -apartment in which the Prior and Madame de Montpensier were still in -conference. Here, however, he was stopped at the door; and Albert of -Wolfstrom, entering alone, held a brief but rapid conversation with -the Prior. It ended in St. Real being led back again across the great -court to a distant part of the monastery, where, after climbing two -flights of steps, he was ushered into a corridor extremely narrow, but -of considerable length. In the whole extent of wall, however, which -this corridor presented, there only appeared three doors, besides the -low arch by which he entered. Two of these opened on the left, and -were close together; the other was at the further end of the passage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Albert of Wolfstrom and his soldiers paused at the entrance; but the -monks led St. Real on, and, in a moment after, the Prior himself -followed. He seemed to regard the young stranger with some degree of -interest, and addressed him with mildness and urbanity. "I am told, my -son," he said, "that it is necessary, for reasons into which I have no -authority to inquire, to hold you as a prisoner till the decision of -the lieutenant-general of the kingdom is known in regard to your -destination; but at the same time the members of the holy Catholic -Union, whose object is solely to maintain the faith and liberties of -the people, and to oppose the progress of tyranny and heresy, desire -that you should not be treated as a common prisoner of war, but rather -should have every comfort and convenience till your fate is otherwise -decided. For this purpose, they have consigned you to our care rather -than to the rude durance of the Bastille; and, instead of assigning -you one of the common cells of the brotherhood, I have directed that -you should be placed here, where you can have more space and -convenience. Yonder door, at the farther end of the corridor, belongs -to a cell fitted for your attendant; this first door on the left leads -to an apartment which we shall assign to one of our brethren of St. -Dominick, through whom you can communicate with the convent and the -world without. This is your own apartment--"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he opened the second of the two doors, which stood -close together on the left, and led St. Real into a spacious and -well-furnished chamber. It was airy, but somewhat dim, as it derived -its only light from a window, which appeared, by its great height and -Gothic shape, to have once formed part of some church or chapel. At -the present moment, such arrangements had been made--amongst the -various alterations which the old building must have undergone--that -this single window, which reached from the ceiling to the floor, -served to give light both to the room in which St. Real stood, and to -the other immediately by its side, which together must have once -formed but one large chamber. The thin partition of woodwork which -separated the one room from the other, was supported, from the floor -to the roof, by the strong stone pillar that divided the Gothic window -into two parts; and thus, though the two chambers were completely -distinct, they both had an equal share of light.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This chamber is somewhat obscure," continued the Prior; "but in the -alterations which were made in this building, some twenty years ago, -we could not arrange things better. What are now sleeping rooms were -then part of the old chapel, and this high window looked out to the -Prior's dwelling." So saying, he advanced and opened the casement, a -great part of which, swinging back on its creaking and clattering -hinges, gave admittance to the free air of summer from without, and -showed to St. Real the heavy walls of another body of the building -rising up before the window, at the distance of scarcely five feet. -Running along upon the same level as the chamber in which he stood, -might be seen one of those Gothic passages of fretted stone-work, -which, in churches, are called monks' galleries; while, at the -distance of about twenty feet below, appeared between the two -buildings the narrow paved alley which united the inner to the outer -court of the Dominican convent.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Prior proceeded with some more excuses for the dimness of the -chamber; but as soon as he had concluded, St. Real, who had listened -calmly, replied, "I complain not of the apartment, father, I have -slept in worse; but I complain of imprisonment, when my safety and -freedom were guaranteed to me by the Duke of Mayenne himself. However, -let me warn you, that I am aware, from some circumstances which -occurred at the gate of the convent, that his Highness of Mayenne is -purposely held in ignorance of my imprisonment. I acquit him therefore -of all dishonourable conduct: but how you, and others, will answer to -him for bringing his honour and good faith in question, you must -yourself consider."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For my actions," replied the Prior, somewhat sternly, "I am prepared, -my son, not only to answer to him, but to God. Those of others I have -nought to do with. It suffices for me, that I have authority from -those who have a right to give it, to detain you here till I am -assured that the lieutenant-general thinks it fit that you should be -set at liberty. You are ungrateful, my son, for kindness felt and -shown: you might have undergone harsher treatment, had you been -consigned to the Bastille."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father, I am not ungrateful," replied St. Real, whose simple good -sense was no unequal match for even monkish shrewdness; "but when an -act of injustice is committed, it is somewhat hard to require that the -sufferer should be well pleased that that act of injustice is not -greater than it is. To confine me here is wrong--to confine me in the -Bastille were worse; but, surely, I cannot be expected to feel -grateful to the thief who cuts my purse, simply because he does not -cut my throat also!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your language is hard," replied the Prior, "and your similes are -indecent towards a minister of the religion you profess to hold; I -shall, therefore, waste no more words upon you, young sir. Your -conduct, however, makes no change in my purposes. The treatment you -receive shall be as gentle and as good as if you were grateful for -kindness, and courteous towards those whom you should respect. You -will one time know me better; and you may be sure, even now, that I -have no purposes to serve by your detention; as you will find by our -intercourse, be it long, be it short, that I shall strive for nothing -but, if possible, to lead you in that course in which your honour, -your happiness, and your best interests, here and hereafter, are alone -to be found."</p> - -<p class="normal">St. Real made no reply; and the Dominican, bowing his head with an air -of conscious dignity, withdrew from the apartment, and, proceeding -through the doorway by which he had entered, left the young Marquis -and his attendant alone. The sound of turning keys and drawing bolts -succeeded, and St. Real for the first time found himself a prisoner -indeed. Now "The soul, secure in its existence, may smile at the drawn -dagger, and defy its point;" yet there are many things which may -happen to the body, that defy the soul to preserve her equanimity, -although they be much less evils, in comparison, than that -irretrievable separation of matter and spirit, which we are accustomed -to look upon with more indifference. For a moment or two, St. Real -lost his calmness, and, striding up and down the room with his arms -folded on his breast, gave way to that bitterness of spirit, which -every noble heart must feel on the loss of the great, the -incomparable, the inestimable blessing of liberty. His more -philosophical attendant, who had been selected in haste from among the -rest of his followers, without any great attention to his mental -qualities, consoled himself, under the privation which so painfully -affected his master, by examining every hole and corner in the -apartments to which they were consigned; and comforted himself not a -little, under all their woes and disasters, by the sight of soft and -downy beds, rich arras, and velvet hangings. Before his perquisitions -were well complete, however, and just as his master was reasoning -himself into calmer endurance of an event he could not avoid, the door -once more opened, and admitted a brother of the order, on whose -appearance and demeanour we must pause for a moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was younger than any of the friars that St. Real had yet -seen,--pale in countenance, heavy in expression, with a certain degree -of sadness, if not wildness, in his eye, and that close shutting of -the teeth and compression of the lips, which, in general, argues a -determined disposition. A little above the middle height, he was -powerful in limb and muscle; but the appearance of strength and -activity, which his form would otherwise have displayed, was -contradicted by a certain slouching stoop, which deprived his -demeanour of all grace; while the habit of gazing, as it were, -furtively from under the bent brows which almost concealed his eyes, -gave his dull countenance a sinister expression, not at all -prepossessing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Benedicite!" said the friar, as he advanced towards St. Real; -"benedicite!"</p> - -<p class="normal">St. Real made some ordinary answer in Latin; but the dull unreplying -countenance of the monk showed that his stock of Latinity did not -extend even to the common phrases in use amongst persons of his -profession; and the young Marquis proceeded in French: "You are, I -presume, the brother appointed to keep watch over us in our -confinement?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Prior has given me, for a penance," replied the monk, "the task -of lying in a down bed, and waiting your will in communicating with -the parlour and the refectory, till to-morrow morning. I am commanded -to ask you if you will have supper: it grows late."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am here, father," replied St. Real, with a smile, "as a bird in a -cage, and you must feed me at what hours you please: it matters but -little to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The monk gazed on him, for a moment, in sullen silence, as if he -hardly attended to his reply, or hardly understood its meaning; and -then, as his slow comprehension did its work, he turned away with a -few muttered, half-intelligible words, and left the apartment, going -apparently to command the meal of which he had spoken. It was soon -after brought in; and, during its course, the Dominican sat by, -turning over the leaves of his breviary in silence, from time to time -reading a few sentences, and filling up the intervals in gazing -vacantly upon the pages, seemingly occupied in dull and gloomy dreams.</p> - -<p class="normal">The meal did not occupy much time; and after it was concluded, St. -Real, anxious to hear something more precise concerning the state of -the capital, and to obtain some information in regard to his own -situation, endeavoured to enter into conversation with the monk; but -the course of all their thoughts lay in such different lines, that he -soon perceived the attempt would be in vain. The Dominican sat and -listened, and replied either by monosyllables, or by long fanatical -tirades, in general totally irrelevant to the topic which called them -forth; and, as twilight began to grow upon the world, the young -Marquis abandoned the endeavour, and intimated, by his silence, a -desire to be left alone. It was long before the other gratified his -inclination in this respect, however, but sat mute and absent, still -turning over the leaves of his breviary, and gazing, from time to -time, upon the face of his companion. Nor was it till St. Real -expressed his desire to have a lamp, and to be left to his own -thoughts, that the monk deemed it advisable to retire.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fatigued in body and mind by the events of the day, St. Real soon cast -himself down to rest; and sleep was not long in visiting his eyelids. -His slumber was profound also; and he awoke not till various sounds in -the immediate vicinity of his chamber disturbed his repose somewhat -rudely.</p> - -<p class="normal">The nature of the first noises that roused him he could not very well -distinguish, for slumber, though in flight, still held, in some -degree, possession of his senses. They seemed, however, as far as he -could remember afterwards, to have proceeded from some smart blows of -a hammer upon a wooden scaffolding; but, before he was well awake, -those sounds had ceased, and a buzzing hum, like that of a turner's -wheel, or a quickly moved saw, had succeeded. St. Real listened -attentively; and, having convinced himself that the noises, by -whatever they were occasioned, were not produced by anything in his -own chamber, but rather seemed to proceed from some part of the -building opposite his window, he addressed himself to sleep again, and -not without success.</p> - -<p class="normal">But his repose was not so full and tranquil as before. His former -slumbers had been profound, forming one of those dreamless, -feelingless, lapses of existence, which seem given us to show how the -soul, even while dwelling in the body, can pause with all her powers -suspended, unconscious of her own being, till called again into -activity by some extraneous cause. The sleep which succeeded, however, -was very different: dreams came thick and fast; some of them were -confused and wild, and indistinct, but some were of that class of -visions in which all the objects are as clear and definite as during -our waking moments,--in which our thoughts are as active, our mind is -as much at work, our passions are as vehemently excited, as in the -strife and turmoil of living aspiration and endeavour--dreams which -seem given to show us how intensely the soul can act, and feel, and -live, while the corporeal faculties, which are her earthly servants, -are as dead and useless as if the grave's corruption had resolved them -into nothing.</p> - -<p class="normal">At one moment it seemed that he was in the battle-field, amidst the -shout and the cry, and the clang of arms, and the rush of charging -squadrons; and then he was in the flight of the defeated army, and he -knew all the bitter indignation of reverse, and all the burning thirst -to retrieve the day, and he felt all the vain effort to rally the -flying, and the hopeless and daring effort to repel the victor; and -then again, when all was lost, and not the faint shadow of a -despairing hope remained, he was hurrying his rapid course across some -dark and midnight moor; and, while he spurred on his own weary horse, -he held in his hand the bridle rein of another, who bore one for whom -he felt a thousand fears which he knew not for himself; and ever and -anon, as he turned to look, the soft sweet eyes of Eugenie de -Menancourt would gaze upon him with imploring earnestness. Then, -suddenly, the figure changed, the rein dropped from his hand, and, -armed all in steel, with lance couched and visor up, as if galloping -to attack him, appeared his cousin, Philip d'Aubin; and, with a -feeling of horror and a sudden start, St. Real woke.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sounds that he now heard--for as yet the night had by no means -assumed her attribute of quietness--were certainly not calculated to -produce the painful sensations that he had just undergone. There was -music on the air--soft and delicate music,--not gay, and yet not sad, -but with a certain wild solemnity of tone, that well accorded with the -hour, and seemed calculated to raise the thoughts to high and -unearthly aspirations. At first, the music was solely instrumental; -but, in a moment or two afterwards, two sweet voices were heard, -singing, with a peculiarly thrilling softness of tone, that seemed to -have something supernatural in its clear melody. St. Real listened; -and, though the sounds must have proceeded from some distance, yet the -words were pronounced so distinctly, that he lost not a syllable of -the song they poured upon the night.</p> -<div style="font-size:10pt"> -<pre> - - - SONG. - - <i>First Voice</i>. Blessed! blessed! art thou, - Amongst the sons of men! - For angels are wreathing for thy brow - Flowers that fade not again! - - <i>Second Voice</i>. A crown, a crown of glory for the brave! - - <i>First Voice</i>. Blessed! blessed! are those - That sleep the sleep of the good! - Blessed is he whose bosom glows - To shed the tyrant's blood! - - <i>Second Voice</i>. Glory to him whom the Church shall save! - - <i>First Voice</i>. Amongst the saints in Paradise, - In glory he shall dwell! - And angels shall greet him to the skies, - When to earth he bids farewell! - - <i>Second Voice</i>. Joy, joy, joy to the champion of the Lord! - - <i>First Voice</i>. His arm is now endued with might, - The foes of the Faith to destroy! - To sweep the tyrant from God's sight, - To crush the worm in his joy! - - <i>Second Voice</i>. Death, death, death to the tyrant abhorred! - - <i>Both Voices</i>. Blessed! blessed! blessed art thou - Amongst the sons of men! - For angels are wreathing for thy brow - Flowers that fade not again! - -</pre></div> -<p class="normal">It was no longer doubtful whence these sounds proceeded; for, in -consequence of the closeness of a hot August night, St. Real had left -his window open; and he now distinctly perceived that the music issued -from a spot in the monks' gallery, very nearly opposite. Springing out -of bed as soon as the sounds had ceased, he advanced to the window, -and looked out; but he could perceive nothing. The night was somewhat -obscure, the moon by this time was down, and it was with difficulty -that he distinguished the fretted stonework of the gallery from the -rest of the dark mass that rose before him. He paused for a moment, to -consider what all this could mean. Though a sincere Catholic, and -habituated to make a marked distinction between the doctrines of the -religion he professed and the absurdities, superstitions, and -corruptions with which knaves and fools had endeavoured to disguise -it, still the Reformation had disclosed too much, and the young noble -was of too inquiring a disposition for him to be unaware of the -multitude of tricks, intrigues, and deceptions, which some of the more -bigoted members of the Roman church thought themselves justified in practising for the attainment of an end desired. The sounds he had -just heard, therefore, he attributed at once to their right cause, -looking upon them as part of some piece of monkish jugglery. Almost as -rapidly joining this conclusion in his mind to his own arrest without -the knowledge of Mayenne, to his detention in the Dominican convent, -to his separation from the rest of the community, and to the peculiar -position of the apartments assigned to him, he was led to -believe--though wrongly--that he himself was the object of the -somewhat absurd stratagem which he had just witnessed.</p><p class="normal">"These monks must surely deem me a very great fool indeed!" he -thought, as he stood and gazed out upon the building opposite, longing -to give the persons who had been singing an intimation of his -consciousness of their arts, and of the contempt in which he held -them. But, while considering whether it would not be more dignified to -let the matter pass over in silence, a new trick was played off. A -sudden light burst through the apertures of the stone-work, and was -poured, as it were, in a full stream upon the window at which he -stood, but not on the part contained in his own chamber, being -directed entirely upon that portion of the casement which was -beyond the partition, and which gave light to the chamber assigned -to the young monk who had been given him as an attendant. The first -ray of light that St. Real perceived was of the ordinary hue, though -of a dazzling brightness; but the next moment it assumed a bright -rose-colour, and proceeded to pour on, changing to a thousand varied -and beautiful tints, which the young noble thought certainly very -admirable, but not at all supernatural. The next moment, however, he -heard through the partition the murmuring of voices in the -neighbouring chamber; and, thinking that the jugglery had been carried -quite far enough, he determined, if possible, to put an end to it. -Throwing his cloak round him, therefore, he approached the door, -intending to enter the chamber of the young Dominican, and tell him in -plain language, that he was not to be deceived; but, when he attempted -to draw the lock, he found that the key had been turned upon him from -without; and, with a curling lip, he cast himself again upon his bed, -and soon forgot, in tranquil slumber, events which had excited in his -mind no other feeling than contempt.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">It was late in the morning when St. Real awoke; and so profound had -been his slumbers during the latter hours of their course, that the -door of his chamber had been opened without his knowing it; and, on -looking round, he found the young Dominican sitting at the farther end -of the room, employed, as usual, in turning over busily the leaves of -his breviary. In his eye there was more wild and gloomy fire than St. -Real had remarked on the preceding evening; and the young noble, who -could not help connecting the monk with the trick that had been played -off upon him during the night, resolved to speak upon the subject at -once, in the hope of discovering what was the real object of the -friars.</p><p class="normal">"Good morrow, father!" he said, as their eyes first met; "I trust you -have slept more soundly than I have."</p><p class="normal">"Why should <i>you</i> sleep unsoundly?" demanded the Dominican in return. -"You have no mighty thoughts! you have no heavenly calling! you have -no glorious revelations to keep you waking! Why should you sleep -unsoundly?"</p><p class="normal">"Simply, because foolish people took the trouble to disturb me," -replied St. Real. "Heard you not the singing, and saw you not the -light?"</p><p class="normal">"Foolish people!" cried the friar, with his grey eyes gleaming: "call -you the angels of Heaven foolish people? Yes, profane man, I saw the -light, and I heard the singing; and that you heard and saw it too, -shows me that it was no dream, but a blessed reality! But you saw not -what I saw! you heard not what I heard! You saw not the winged angel -of the Lord that entered my cell, bearing the sword of the vengeance -of God! you heard not the message of Heaven to poor Jacques Clement, -bidding him go forth in the power of faith, and smite the Holofernes -at St. Cloud--the oppressor of the people of the Lord, the enemy and -contemner of the will of the Highest!"</p><p class="normal">"No, indeed!" answered St. Real, "I neither heard nor saw any of these -things; but I now perceive, father, that the vision was addressed to -you, not to me, as at first I believed it to be. But tell me, good -father, you surely are not simple enough to take all this that you -have seen for--"</p><p class="normal">Ere St. Real could conclude his sentence, the door, which the -Dominican had left ajar, was thrown wide open, and the Prior of the -convent entered the room, and approached the bed where the young -gentleman had remained resting on his arm while he maintained this -brief conversation with Father Clement. "Good morrow, my son!" said -the Prior. "What! still abed! Brother Clement, thou mayst withdraw."</p><p class="normal">The friar immediately obeyed; and the superior went on: "I -bring you tidings, my son, which you will be glad to hear. The -lieutenant-general of the kingdom has been informed of your arrest; -and, notwithstanding some circumstances of a suspicious kind which -justified that measure, trusts so much to your good faith and honour, -that he has ordered your liberation, and recognises the validity of -your safe-conduct. Some of his officers wait below; your own -attendants are now collected in the court; and all is prepared in -order that you may immediately visit him. In the meantime, however, -while you rise and dress yourself, I would fain speak a few words of -warning and advice."</p><p class="normal">"Willingly will I attend, reverend father," replied St. Real, who was -disposed to show every sort of respect to the teachers of his -religion, although he could not but believe that there was a good deal -of double-dealing, even in the very speech by which the Prior -announced the tidings of his liberation. "Happy am I to hear that the -Duke of Mayenne, however he may have learned my detention, is more -awake to a sense of his own honour, than that detention itself seemed -to imply. But let me hear: what is it you would say, good father?"</p><p class="normal">"As a vowed teacher of the true faith, and a preacher of the holy -Gospel," replied the Dominican, "I would warn you, my son, against any -hesitation in those particulars where your eternal salvation is -concerned. In matters of faith, as in matters of virtue, there can be -but one right and wrong: there is no middle course in religion; and, -if you are a true Catholic, holding the doctrines of the apostolic -church, and reverencing that authority which the Saviour of mankind -transferred to blessed St. Peter and his successors, you must hold the -enemies of that church, who oppose its doctrines, and strive for its -overthrow, as blasphemous and sacrilegious heretics, whose existence -is an ulcer in the state, whose very neighbourhood is dangerous, and -whose companionship is a pest. You must hold those who, pretending to -be apostolic Catholics, support, maintain and consort with the enemies -of that religion, as even worse than those enemies themselves, -inasmuch as they add hypocrisy and falsehood to heresy and sacrilege; -and when you perceive that every vice which can degrade human nature -characterises those who are thus apostates to the church, and -protectors of heresy, you will see the natural consequences which fall -upon such as disobey the injunctions of the church they acknowledge, -and the punishment that will attend all those who uphold a foul and -evil cause,--disgrace, dishonour, loss of their own esteem, crimes -that they once regarded with horror; in this life infamy, misfortune, -and reverse; speedy death; and then eternal condemnation."</p><p class="normal">In the same strain the Prior proceeded for some time, enlarging, and -not without eloquence, upon all the common topics with which the -preachers of the League were accustomed to stir up the fanatical -spirit of their auditors. He touched also upon St. Real's own -situation, his power of choosing, at that moment, between good and -bad: he spoke of the unquestionable honour and high repute of many of -the leaders of his faction; he painted in the most dark and terrible -colours the vices and the crimes that stained the court of Henry III.; -and he artfully glossed over, or passed in silence, all that could be -detrimental to his own party in the opinion of an honourable and an -upright gentleman. He said nothing of the ambition, the rapacity, the -debauchery, the prostitution of feeling, honour, virtue, patriotism, -to the basest party purposes and the most sordid self-interests, which -disgraced the faction of the League.</p><p class="normal">While he proceeded, St. Real went on with the occupations of his -toilet, and, somewhat to the annoyance of the Dominican, heard his -oration in favour of the League with a degree of calmness that set all -his powers of penetration at defiance. He expressed neither assent nor -dissent; neither wonder at all the charges which the Prior brought -against the King and his minions, nor admiration of the characters -which he attributed to the leaders of the League. He listened, but he -did not even take advantage of any pause to answer; and, when the -Prior had completely concluded, he merely said, "Well, father, I shall -soon see all these things with my own eyes, and shall then determine."</p><p class="normal">Somewhat piqued to find that all his oratory had produced so small an -effect, the Prior rose, and, with an air of stern dignity, moved -towards the door. As he approached it, he turned, drew up his tall -figure to its full height, and, lifting his right hand, with the two -first fingers raised, he said, in an impressive tone, while he fixed -his keen eyes upon the figure of the young Marquis, "Remember, my son, -what Christ, your Saviour himself, has said: 'He that is not for me, -is against me;'" and, without waiting for a reply, he turned and -quitted the room.</p><p class="normal">Unmoved by what he considered, rightly, a piece of stage effect, St. -Real soon followed, and found the door of the corridor left open; -while the servant, who had been suffered to accompany him to the -convent, was seen in the little ante-room beyond, speaking with some -persons in rich military dresses, with whose faces St. Real was -unacquainted. The moment he approached, however, one stepped forth -from the rest, and addressed him by his name.</p><p class="normal">"I am commanded, Monsieur de St. Real, to greet you on the part of his -Highness the Duke of Mayenne, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and -to inform you that the arrest under which you have suffered, took -place without either his knowledge or consent, by a mistake on the -part of a body of reitters, who seem to have confounded you in some -way with the troops attached to Monsieur de Longueville. I am further -directed to conduct you to the presence of his Highness, who will -explain to you more at large how these events have occurred. Your own -attendants and horses are already prepared below: and, if it suits -your convenience, we will instantly set out."</p><p class="normal">"At once, if it so please you, sir," replied St. Real. "I am so little -used to imprisonment, that every minute of it is tedious to me."</p><p class="normal">Proceeding, therefore, to the door of the ante-chamber, at which stood -one of the Dominican friars, St. Real and his companions were led down -to the court, and there mounted their horses. As he was turning his -rein towards the gate, however, his eye fell upon the form of the -Prior, standing at an oriel window above; and, raising his hat, he -bowed with all becoming reverence. The Prior spread his hands, and -gave his blessing in return, adding--"May God bless thee, my son, and -give thee light to see thy way aright!"</p><p class="normal">On the present occasion, there appeared to be not only dignity, but -even sincerity, in his tone. Nor, indeed, did St. Real doubt the -purity of his intentions throughout; but, in the wars and factions -that had preceded the time of which we now speak, the young noble had, -as we have said, acted the part of a looker-on; and thus he had -learned many a lesson in the art of appreciating the character of such -men as Prior Edmé Bourgoin--men who, devotedly sincere themselves in -their attachment to the party they espouse, and convinced by passion's -eloquent voice of the justice of their cause, think every means -justifiable to attain its objects, or to bring over converts to its -tenets. St. Real felt sure that the Prior entertained not a doubt of -the rectitude of his own motives, and the propriety of everything he -did in behalf of the League; but he felt equally sure, that the -Dominican would think right and just a thousand means and stratagems, -to obtain his purposes, which he, St. Real, would look upon as base, -dishonourable, and even impious. Whatever end, therefore, had been -sought by confining him in the Jacobin convent, the effect had been -anything rather than increased affection for the League; and, as he -rode away from its gates towards the Hotel de Guise, his only -reflection was, "Well, if such be the means by which the League is -supported, and such the stratagems by which its adherents are gained, -I, at least, will not be one of the crowd of fools whereof its -followers must be composed."</p><p class="normal">At the Hotel de Guise a different scene awaited him, and different -means of attraction were played off in order to win him to the -faction. All that had passed at the Jacobins had apparently been -minutely reported to Madame de Montpensier; and, with a profound -knowledge of human nature, and a perfect command of art, she at once -read the principal points of St. Real's character, and adapted her own -behaviour to suit it. The mistakes which she committed, as we shall -presently see, were not from misapprehending the traits of his -disposition, but from not perceiving their depth.</p><p class="normal">On alighting from their horses, the young officers who had conducted -St. Real from the Dominican convent, led him at once towards the -audience chamber of the Duke of Mayenne. At the door, however, they -were informed by an attendant that the Duke was busy on matters of -some deep importance, but that he would be at leisure in a few -minutes. Another attendant then stepped forth to usher him to some -waiting-room; and, ere he was aware of it, St. Real was in the -presence of two beautiful women,--the Duchess of Guise, and the -Duchess of Montpensier,--who appeared busy with the ordinary morning -occupations of ladies of that day, and seemed surprised at the -intrusion; though it need scarcely be said, that the whole man[oe]uvre -had been conducted upon their own positive orders. The attendant, who -led the young cavalier thither, seemed also surprised to find that -chamber engaged; and, begging St. Real to follow him again, was -retiring, with many profound reverences and apologies to the two -ladies, when Madame de Montpensier demanded the gentleman's name; and, -glancing her eye over his person, with a smile not at all unnatural, -added, before the man could answer, that, as all the other chambers -were occupied, the stranger might, if he so pleased, remain there till -her brother was disengaged, as he did not seem so ferocious a person -as to make war upon a bevy of women, though Henry of Valois had shown -that even the sacred robe of the church was sometimes no protection.</p><p class="normal">St. Real's name was then given by the attendant; who, without further -question, retired, leaving the young cavalier to play his part with -the two artful women in whose society he was placed, as best he might. -The Marquis, however, did not play that part ill. Graceful by nature -and by education, his manners were embarrassed by no kind of -bashfulness; for although his acquaintance with society was but -limited, yet there were two feelings in his bosom which gave him ever -perfect self-possession without presumption. The first of these -feelings was a slight touch of the pride of birth, which taught him, -when in company with the high or the proud, never to forget that he -was himself sprung from the noblest of the land; the second, was the -consciousness of perfect rectitude in every thought, feeling, and -purpose. Besides all this, the St. Reals had been, as I have said, -from age to age, a chivalrous race; and their representative had -strong in his own bosom that species of chivalrous gallantry, which -made him look upon woman's weakness as a constant, undeniable claim to -deference, to courtesy, and to those small attentions, which give -greater pleasure very often than even greater services.</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier was surprised and pleased; and the Duchess de -Guise, perhaps, inwardly determined to add St. Real to her train of -admirers. At all events, both bent their efforts, in the first place, -to gain him for the League; and the sister of the haughty house of -Lorraine pursued her plan with the calm and steady purpose of a great -diplomatist. In her communion with the young Marquis, she scrupulously -avoided aught of coquetry--she suffered not a touch even of levity to -be apparent in her manner--she put a guard upon her tongue and upon -her eyes, and suffered not even an idle jest to pass those lips with -which such things were so familiar. At first, affecting even a degree -of distant coldness, she suffered the softer and more blandishing -manners of the Duchess of Guise to smooth away all the difficulties of -an accidental introduction; and then, as the conversation proceeded, -she affected to become more interested, spoke wisely and cautiously, -and assumed the tone of virtue and deep feeling, which she knew would -harmonise with his principles; though, if all tales be true, that tone -was the most difficult for her to affect.</p><p class="normal">She soon contrived to discover a fact, of which she seemed to be -ignorant till St. Real told her; namely, that he was the cousin of the -Count d'Aubin; and then, acting upon one of those vague intuitions, -which women are occasionally gifted with in regard to matters of the -heart, she turned the conversation suddenly and abruptly to -Mademoiselle de Menancourt, and the subject of her detention in Paris. -St. Real was taken by surprise: there had been some warring in his -bosom too, of late, in regard to the fair girl, who had been the -companion of his early youth: it was the only point on which his -thoughts were not as free and light as the sunshine on the waters; -and, at the name of Eugenie de Menancourt, so suddenly pronounced, the -blood mounted for a moment into his cheek, and glowed upon his brow.</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier saw, without seeming to see; and instantly -understood the whole: but she fancied even more than she understood. -Even though the purity of St. Real's nature forced itself upon her -conviction, the evil and subtlety of her own character affected the -impression which his left upon her mind, and changed it from its -natural appearance. It was like a beautiful face seen in a bad -mirror--the traits the same, and yet the aspect changed. She fancied -that she saw in the feelings of St. Real towards Eugenie de Menancourt -the secret of his hesitation between the League and the Royalists: -not, indeed, that she believed that he wished to bargain for his -services, as so many had done, or that he designed to attempt to -deprive his cousin of the hand of her he loved; but she imagined that -secret, and perhaps unconscious, hopes of some fortuitous -circumstance, proving favourable to his wishes, might be the cause of -a lingering tendency towards the party who could bestow the hand of -Eugenie de Menancourt, when his political feelings led him to support -the royal cause. Upon these suppositions she shaped her plans, and -proceeded to speak of the young heiress with all the tenderness and -consideration of a sister. She commiserated her situation, she -said,--promised by her father to a man that she could not love, and -then left an orphan in the midst of such troublous times. It was -happy, indeed, she added, that the young lady had fallen into the -hands of one in every respect so noble and considerate as the Duke of -Mayenne; for Monsieur d'Aubin must, by this time, have learned, that -the lieutenant-general, endeavouring to exercise his power for the -happiness of all, would not suffer any restraint to be put upon the -inclination of Mademoiselle de Menancourt, but would bestow her hand -upon any one that she could really love, provided his rank and -station, presented no invincible obstacles.</p><p class="normal">St. Real was, for a moment, silent; but he at length replied, that he -could not conceive upon what ground Mademoiselle de Menancourt's -present objections to a union with the Count d'Aubin could be founded. -During her father's lifetime, he said, she had not apparently opposed -the alliance; and, as far as he had heard, D'Aubin had given her no -new cause of offence.</p><p class="normal">The subject was one on which St. Real found it difficult to speak, -not from any feelings he might experience towards Eugenie de -Menancourt--for, by a strong sense of honour, and a great command over -his own mind, he crushed all sensations of the kind as soon as he -found them rising in his breast,--but his difficulty proceeded from a -consciousness that D'Aubin was to blame, and from a wish to say as -much as possible in favour of his cousin, without deviating from that -rigid adherence to truth, which was the constant principle of his -heart. What he said was true, indeed. Eugenie de Menancourt had -evinced no strenuous opposition to the proposed alliance, so long as -her father lived; and yet it was during his lifetime that St. Real had -principally remarked those errors in the conduct of his cousin which -he thought most calculated to give offence to that cousin's future -bride. He did, therefore, wonder what new motive had given such sudden -and strong determination to one whom he had always remarked as gentle -and complying; and, although he doubted not he should find Eugenie in -the right, he did long to hear from her own lips the reasons upon -which her conduct was founded.</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier remarked the restraint under which he spoke, but -attributed it to wrong motives, and shaped her answer accordingly. -"Perhaps," she said, with a significant smile, "Mademoiselle de -Menancourt may have perceived that there are other people, more worthy -of her heart; and, as soon as she finds that her duty to her father no -longer requires obedience, she may yield to her own inclinations, -especially where she finds they are supported by reason."</p><p class="normal">"I do not think that, madam," replied St. Real. "I do not think -Eugenie de Menancourt is one to love easily; though, where she did -love, she would love deeply."</p><p class="normal">There was a degree of simplicity and unconsciousness in this reply, -that somewhat puzzled Madame de Montpensier, and put her calculations -at fault. She did not choose to let the subject drop, however; and she -replied--"You seem to know this young lady well, Monsieur de St. Real: -have you been long acquainted?"</p><p class="normal">"I know her as if she were my own sister," replied St. Real. "We have -been acquainted since our infancy; and, indeed, we are distantly -related to each other."</p><p class="normal">"Not within the forbidden degrees, I hope?" said the Duchess or Guise, -with a smile.</p><p class="normal">"She will scare the bird from the trap with her broad jests!" thought -the more cautious Catherine de Montpensier, as she saw the colour come -up again to St. Real's cheek; but he replied, with his usual -straightforward simplicity, "I really do not know, madam: I never -considered the matter; but the relationship is, I trust, sufficiently -near to justify me in asking his Highness of Mayenne to grant me an -interview with Mademoiselle de Menancourt, as I wish to see whether I -cannot remove any false impression she may have formed of my cousin, -and induce her to fulfil an engagement on which his happiness -depends."</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier gave a sharp eager glance towards the Duchess of -Guise, to prevent her from pressing St. Real too hard; and she herself -replied, "My brother will doubtless grant you the interview, Monsieur -de St. Real; but I am afraid you will be unsuccessful. One thing, -however, you may be sure of, that Mayenne himself will in no degree -press Mademoiselle de Menancourt to such a union, for he is fully -convinced that her objections are but too well founded: and although, -perhaps, the party that we espouse might be benefited by holding out -to your cousin the prospect of our support in this matter, yet it can -in no degree be granted, unless some great change takes place in the -feelings of Mademoiselle de Menancourt herself."</p><p class="normal">As St. Real was about to reply, an attendant again appeared, and -announced that Mayenne was, for a few moments, free from those weighty -affairs with which the situation of his party overwhelmed him. The -young Marquis rose to obey the summons: but Madame de Montpensier was -not at all inclined to abandon her unconcluded schemes to the chances -of a private interview between her more candid brother and the object -of her wiles. That which had at first been the mere desire of gaining -a powerful acquisition to her party, and of depriving the Royalists of -a strong support, had now become, under the opposition and -difficulties she had met with, the eager struggle of compromised -vanity. Her reputation for skill and policy were even dearer to her, -at that moment, than her reputation for beauty and wit had ever been; -and, at the mere apprehension of missing her stroke in a matter where -she had risked so much, and employed such means, she called up before -the eyes of imagination the calm, half-sneering smile with which -Mayenne would mark her failure, and the galling compassion with which -all her dear friends and favourite counsellors would commiserate her -disappointment.</p><p class="normal">"I have a petition too to present to my all-powerful brother," she -said, rising at the same time; "and, therefore, with your good leave, -Monsieur de St. Real, I will accompany you to his high and mighty -presence." St. Real, perhaps, would have preferred to see Mayenne -alone, but no choice was left him; and, offering his hand, he led her -through the long galleries and corridors of the Hotel de Guise to the -audience-chamber of the lieutenant-general.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Oh entering the cabinet of the Duke of Mayenne, Madame de Montpensier -and her companion found him still engaged in listening to the reports -of several military men. He instantly made a sign, however, for the -purpose of enjoining silence as his sister approached; and turning to -St. Real, he pointed to a seat. "The Marquis de St. Real, I presume?" -he said, with an air of plain and unaffected dignity. "Your mourning -habit, sir, reminds me that I should condole with you on the death of -one of the noblest gentlemen that France has ever known. He would not, -it is true, take part with those who wished him well; but, even had he -drawn his sword against us, I should have lamented his death as a star -gone out that may never be lighted again."</p><p class="normal">There was a brief pause--for St. Real would not trust his voice with a -reply--and the Duke, after having dismissed the officers by whom he -had been surrounded, proceeded: "I trust, Monsieur de St. Real, that -you know enough of him who speaks to you to believe, even without my -saying it, that Charles of Mayenne is utterly incapable of such an act -as that by which my safe-conduct was violated in your instance. For my -own part, the persons who captured you allege, in their excuse, some -dispositions of your troops, which gave cause to suspect an -inclination to support our adversary, the young Duke of Longueville; -but I--judging your sentiments by my own--absolve you from all such -suspicion."</p><p class="normal">"You do me justice, my lord," replied St. Real; "I am incapable of -taking advantage of your pass in order to injure you; and, though in -the first heat of anger at my arrest, I might cast the blame on you, I -have since learned to judge better, and to know that it was the -purpose of those who detained me to keep you in ignorance of my -imprisonment. At least, I conclude so from the fact that, on my -desiring one of the lookers-on, as I was carried through the streets, -to bear the tidings to you, the commander, as he seemed, of the -reitters threatened to cut the man's ears off if he obeyed. How the -news was at length brought to you I know not, and would willingly -hear."</p><p class="normal">"'Twas a little misshapen dwarf," replied Mayenne, "whom I remember -well about the court some years ago, that brought the tidings, and -bellowed them forth just as I was mounting my horse to ride out this -morning."</p><p class="normal">"'Tis one of my own pages, doubtless," replied St. Real. "I fancied -that the little pigmy could ill bear the fatigues of our long march, -and I sent him on hither in a chariot, with another young lad, to -prepare a lodging for me while in Paris."</p><p class="normal">"I knew not, sir Marquis," replied Mayenne, "that you, who affect so -much retirement in the provinces, took such pains to follow the modes -of the court. What! you have dwarfs for pages, too, have you? And -doubtless, in such a household as yours, you equal this Henry of -Valois, and have the <i>tailleur aux nains</i>, as well as the dwarf's -valet."</p><p class="normal">A fear crossed the mind of Madame de Montpensier, lest her brother -should be pressing St. Real somewhat too hard for his own interests; -and she accordingly joined in the conversation at once. "No, no!" she -exclaimed; "depend upon it, Charles, Monsieur de St. Real has obtained -this dwarf through some accident. I am a better judge of nature than -you, Mayenne; and I will answer for it that St. Real is not one to ape -the follies of a vicious court, and have his dozen or two of dwarfs -and buffoons."</p><p class="normal">"You are quite right, madam," replied St. Real, who could not but feel -pleased to hear himself so boldly defended by such lovely lips. "This -dwarf was given me, when I needed a page, by my cousin of Aubin, who -prophesied that one day he would serve me at my need--a prophecy which -you see has been happily fulfilled, by the unexpected service he has -rendered me to-day; and I only trust that his Highness of Mayenne will -punish as severely those who have abused his authority, as I will -reward largely the activity of my little page."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne's brow darkened a little: for, of course, the contrivers of -the scheme by which St. Real had been brought to Paris he could not -punish; and the executors of that scheme were too necessary to his own -purposes to admit of any severity being exercised towards them, even -had a sense of justice not pointed out that they were mere instruments -in the hands of his sister. He was embarrassed therefore; for he felt -that the mind of the young Marquis of St. Real was too clear and too -straightforward not to detect and appreciate any evasive reply: but -Madame de Montpensier came to his aid.</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay, Monsieur de St. Real," she said, half playfully, half -sadly, "let us not talk of punishments to-day. The miseries and the -pangs which are inflicted by either party on the other are sufficient, -Heaven knows, without requiring us to be very severe upon our own. But -you talked," she added, changing the subject abruptly, "of your page -seeking you a lodging in Paris. Now, this is the Hotel de Guise; and -I, as a daughter of that house, will take upon me to bid you make it -your dwelling while you stay; though my brother, here present, might -have had the courtesy to do so before now."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, Catherine," answered Mayenne, "I wished to put no restraint upon -Monsieur de St. Real. He came to the capital to act and to judge for -himself; to examine our cause, to mark the demeanour of those who -support it; and, though anxious--most anxious--to have so noble a name -joined to all those who already uphold the Catholic faith against the -apostate and excommunicated tyrant who would destroy it, yet on no -account would I bias for a moment the judgment of our noble friend, -which, indeed, he might think I wished to do if I pressed him to dwell -here."</p><p class="normal">There was a dignified simplicity in the demeanour of the Duke of -Mayenne which pleased St. Real much; but still he wished in no degree -to commit himself with the League, till he had ascertained that there -was some strong and imperative cause for quitting the path which -loyalty and his allegiance pointed out for him to follow. "I thank -you, my lord, for your consideration," he replied; "but it was my -purpose, after this interview, and having obtained one boon at your -hands, to take my leave for the time, in order to proceed to St. -Cloud, as I at first intended."</p><p class="normal">A cloud came over the brow of the Duke; but Madame de Montpensier -again interfered. "Monsieur de St. Real," she said, laughing, with -something of a double meaning, "you are strongly inclined to spoil all -my best plans in your favour; but I do not intend to let you do so. -Positively, for this day at least, you shall make your habitation in -the Hotel de Guise. The morning you shall spend as you please--see all -our faults and failings, and spy out the nakedness of the land. At -night you sup with me, to which supper I also bid my lord Duke, here; -and I will take care, that in the course of the evening, you shall -have an opportunity of urging your cousin's suit upon the ear of -Mademoiselle de Menancourt, as long and as privately as you please."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne cast an inquiring glance upon his sister; but she only -replied, "Ay, Charles, even so: your fair ward, Eugenie de Menancourt, -with whom Monsieur de St. Real desires to speak in favour of the Count -d'Aubin. However, to this plan I will have no objections, my lord -Marquis; so, on your gallantry, I call you to obey without murmuring, -remembering that, as it is impossible for a young, gay, handsome -cavalier like yourself to have a private interview with a beautiful -girl like Eugenie de Menancourt at her own dwelling without notorious -scandal, this is your only chance. No reply!" she added, with an air -of playful imperiousness; "no reply! but obedience! Herbert!" she -continued, raising her voice loud enough to be heard in the ante-room, -"command the <i>maītre d'hōtel</i> to conduct this gentleman to such a -suite of rooms as may be sufficient for himself and his attendants, -and suited to his high quality."</p><p class="normal">It would have needed a heart very stern and stoical to disobey -commands so pleasantly given, and coupled with such temptations. St. -Real, therefore, signified his assent, and, following the officer who -had come to Madame de Montpensier's call, was conducted to an -apartment in the Hotel de Guise, where he was soon joined by his own -attendants, bearing the various articles of baggage which he had -brought with him on quitting his little camp near Senlis, and which, -to their singular honour be it spoken, the reitters had left with no -very important abstractions, though plunder was no uncommon part of -their military avocations.</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier, although she had in reality neither boon nor -question to demand of her brother, lingered for a moment after St. -Real was gone, looking archly in the grave face of the Duke of -Mayenne. "Well, Charles," she exclaimed, "do you not thank me for my -assistance? have I not got you nicely out of a scrape?"</p><p class="normal">"After having wildly got me into one," replied the Duke. "But tell me, -Kate, what is this business about Mademoiselle de Menancourt? I will -not suffer you to trouble the course of events there."</p><p class="normal">"Nor do I purpose to do so," replied Madame de Montpensier; "but I see -farther than you do, Charles, and, at all events, for this day will -have my own way. So, you look to your plans, and I will look to mine, -and may come to help you again when you get into difficulty." Thus -speaking, and without waiting for any farther questions, she turned -away, leaving the Duke to pursue the military arrangements in which he -had been previously occupied.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIV.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">St. Real, whose toilet at the convent of the Jacobins had been, -from the circumstances in which he was placed, both hasty and -unceremonious, now proceeded to change a dress suited alone to a -journey, and both deranged and soiled by all that he had lately passed -through. While thus occupied, a loud but well-known voice made itself -heard in the ante-room, exclaiming, "Make way, make way! Paul Thiebaut -and Pierre Langlois, if you do not get out of my way, I will break -your pates with the hilt of my dagger! I will break your pates, though -they may be as thick, and as hard, and as heavy as the leaden pummel -of my old lord's double-handed sword! Out of the way, I say: do you -think one can walk through your great hulking bodies?"</p><p class="normal">"No," replied one of the attendants, in a gruff voice, "no! but you -could walk between our legs, I suppose, little Master Bartholo."</p><p class="normal">What was the dwarf's reply did not appear; but it would seem that it -was somewhat of a manual nature, for a loud oath and stamp of the foot -followed; and the door of the chamber opened so unceremoniously as to -evince that Bartholo was in some haste to escape from the vengeance -that his replication, whatever it had been, was likely to call down -upon his head. Banging the door in the face of those behind, he -instantly recovered his tranquillity when he found himself in the -presence of his master; and advancing towards St. Real with graceful -ease, bent his little knee to the ground, kissed his lord's hand, and -gave him joy on his arrival in the great capital.</p><p class="normal">St. Real replied something kind to his first salutation, and then -added, "But how now, Bartholo! you claim no merit for the service you -have rendered me this morning?"</p><p class="normal">"I never like to claim merit," replied the dwarf, in his usual cynical -tone: "I never like to claim merit, especially with people who think -themselves generous; because, if they have forgot my merit, and do not -intend to reward me, my claim is a reproach which they never forgive; -and if they remember my merit, and design to thank me, my claim is a -disappointment."</p><p class="normal">"It would be well, my good Bartholo," replied St. Real, "if every one -else acted upon the same principle--not alone to those who think -themselves generous, as you say, but to all men. It would, I believe, -save many a disappointment, and many a bitter aggravation of -ingratitude; for I have remarked that, as you say, those who are -simply forgetful of services hate those who serve them when they are -called on to be grateful. But where is Leonard de Monte? Could not he -find out his master's abode as well as you, Bartholo? or is he one of -those whose memory of kindness does not outlive the act?"</p><p class="normal">"Good truth, I do not know, my lord!" replied the dwarf. "I never -judge of folks on brief acquaintance. His memory of kindness may be as -short-lived as a jest at the gallows, or a widow's mourning, or a -court lady's constancy--the sincerity of Madame de Montpensier, or the -smiles of Monsieur de Mayenne, or any other short thing in this short -life, for aught I know; but, in regard to the reason why Leonard's -black eyes did not find you out here, it is that they are even now -looking for you at St. Cloud. As you were two or three days later than -your appointed time, the silly boy took fright, and set out late last -night to seek for you. He would fain have persuaded me to go too; but -I was not to be wheedled into such an errand. I know well that every -fool finds his way to Paris, and that you, therefore, could not well -miss it. So I remained quiet, watching every corner till you appeared; -and then, as I found you guarded more strongly than necessary, and -lodged more holily than I judged you would like, I made bold to bear -the tidings to the Duke of Mayenne, begging him to deliver you -forthwith from the preaching friars, for fear you should be tired of -the friars' preaching."</p><p class="normal">"You did well and wisely, Bartholo," replied St. Real; "and, as this -is the first piece of real good-will that I have ever seen you display -to any one, it shall not go without reward. There is my purse, good -Bartholo; and now, while I dress, give me the news of Paris; for you -are sharp enough and shrewd enough, I take it, to discover and to mark -all that is passing in this great city."</p><p class="normal">According to his master's desire, Bartholo proceeded to detail all the -gossips, the scandal, and the real news of the capital, commenting, as -he went on, on every anecdote that he related with the keen shrewdness -and sagacity which peculiarly distinguished him. His observations, -indeed, might derive a peculiar turn from his own particular views and -purposes; but, in this curious and complicated world in which we live, -every part fits into the other with such exact nicety, that the great -depend upon the little nearly as much as the little depend upon the -great: the intrigues of the mighty and the powerful, the schemes of -the noble and the high, are almost always to be affected in their -course--to derive their success or receive their overthrow--from the -most mean and despised things that crawl almost unseen around their -presence. Thus, in the present instance, all the art, the tortuous -policy, the consummate acting of Madame de Montpensier was rendered -nearly unavailing by the keen and sarcastic observations, the -knowledge of parties, and the insight into real motives and actions, -of even so insignificant a person as the dwarf. In the course of the -half hour that succeeded, he gave to St. Real a completely new view of -the state of the League, and the motives and characters of its -supporters; and, without one direct assertion, without one attempt to -controvert his opinions, or one apparent effort to obtain a particular -object, he showed his master, that frank simplicity might be assumed -as the best cloak for art, just as much as religion and patriotism -might be affected for the purpose of concealing selfishness and -ambition.</p><p class="normal">As soon as he was dressed, St. Real went forth on foot, followed, as -was customary in those days, by two or three armed attendants, and -guided by the dwarf, who took care that he should see everything which -the capital contained that could disgust him with the proceedings of -the League: though why he wished to drive his master into the royal -party was somewhat difficult to discover. He first led the young -Marquis into the large open space in the neighbourhood of the -University, upon the pretence of showing him that building from which -the light of knowledge had been so frequently poured forth upon -France; but it would seem that he had calculated upon another and more -important object presenting itself by the way: nor was he -disappointed: for, immediately on entering the great square, St. -Real's eyes encountered a considerable crowd; and, making his way -forward through the press to a spot where he could see what was -proceeding, he immediately beheld one of the many curious scenes which -were then taking place in the French capital--such as no city in the -world, at any period of its history, has presented, except Paris in -the days of the League. Covered with steel corslets, armed with sword, -and pike, and musketoon, and with their shaven heads covered with that -species of iron caps called a <i>salade</i>, appeared a dense body of about -1500 men, man[oe]uvring with that close and serried discipline which -was peculiarly attributed to the Spanish infantry. They seemed, -indeed, at first, a very strong body of regular troops, though -somewhat singularly clothed; but nearer inspection showed the large -hanging sleeves and long flowing gowns of various communities of monks -and friars protruding from under the iron panoply of war.</p><p class="normal">As soon as St. Real had satisfied himself that his eyes had not -deceived him, he turned away disgusted, and, led by the dwarf, -proceeded onward to the Bastille, where, entrance being refused to all -but those who came against their own will, or those who had something -to do with the act of bringing them thither, St. Real and his -attendants stood without, while the dwarf commented in a low voice, -but in bitter terms, upon the uses to which that prison was for the -time applied. While thus engaged, a party of horsemen, followed by a -small guard of cavalry, came up at full speed; and their leader, as he -sprang to the ground at the gate of the fortress, turned to give a -hasty glance at St. Real, exposing as he did so, the features of the -Duke of Mayenne.</p><p class="normal">As soon as the Duke perceived who it was that was gazing up to the -building, he beckoned to him to approach, saying, in the same bold and -candid tone which he usually employed, "If you will come in with me, -Monsieur de St. Real, you shall see the inside as well as the outside -of this famous prison; and may also see--" he added, knitting his -brows, "and may also see to what evil purposes power may sometimes be -applied in troublous times, and how difficult it is for one who -endeavours to guide aright the outburst of popular indignation to -insure that his name and authority shall not be abused by others, even -while he is labouring night and day himself to re-establish order and -justice, and promote the public weal."</p><p class="normal">St. Real readily agreed to his proposal, as his desire was to see all -that he could during his short stay in the capital. Every gate opened -at the appearance of the Duke; but, as if by previous orders, he was -not alone accompanied by his own immediate suite, but was also -followed by at least one-half of the cavalry forming his escort: who, -dismounting from their horses, gave their bridles to their companions, -and kept close to the heels of Mayenne as he advanced. The guards and -warders at the second and third gates looked suspiciously upon the -number of soldiers thus introduced into the fortress, and seemed to -hesitate in regard to giving them admission. Mayenne walked on; and, -before his bold and determined aspect, all opposition at once gave -way. A man at the second gate, indeed, made a sudden movement, as if -to communicate the fact of the Duke's arrival to others in the -interior of the building; but in a stern though low tone, Mayenne -commanded him to stay where he was, and advanced rapidly unannounced. -It would seem, indeed, that his coming took the demagogues then in -possession of the Bastile by surprise. In the inner court a knot of -several persons might be observed standing under a beam, which was -thrust out of one of the loophole windows of an angular tower, and -from which beam dangled a strong cord, formed into that ominous -ellipsis, the sight of which has made many a stout heart turn cold. -One of the group assembled below was in the very act of demonstrating -to his fellows that it would be necessary to fetch a bench or table in -order to bring their pastime to a crisis, inasmuch as the rope was too -short, and the noose fully eight feet from the ground, when the -appearance of Mayenne stopped his oration in the midst.</p><p class="normal">The speaker raised his hat at the approach of the Duke; but the glance -that he gave was certainly not one of welcome or of love. "What are -you doing, Monsieur le Clerc?" demanded Mayenne, sternly eyeing the -fatal preparations before him. "All this seems very like an intention -of again overstepping your authority."</p><p class="normal">The person he addressed was a shrewd bold-looking man, with an -expression of quick eager cunning, not unlike that of a monkey. "We -were going, my lord Duke, to do what, I trust, you will be well -pleased to witness," replied Bussy le Clerc: "we were going to execute -a traitor, a rebel to lawful authority, and an enemy to the apostolic -League and to the Catholic faith--him who was formerly called the -President Blancmesnil."</p><p class="normal">"And how did you dare, sir," exclaimed Mayenne, in a tone that cowed -even the bold plotter before him, "how did you dare to stir in such a -matter without my authority? I ask you not where you got the -impudence, for that you lack not for any feat; but where did you get -the courage for such a deed? Am I, or am I not, lieutenant-general of -the kingdom? and am I man to pass by such an act without punishment?"</p><p class="normal">"You are, my lord--you are lieutenant-general of the kingdom," replied -Bussy le Clerc, in a humble tone; but the next moment he muttered -between his teeth, "You are lieutenant-general of the kingdom; but -those who made can unmake."</p><p class="normal">Notwithstanding the low tone in which he spoke, Mayenne seemed to -catch his words; for, grasping him suddenly and firmly by the arm with -his left hand, he pointed to the instrument of death, which Le Clerc -had prepared for others, and, shaking the forefinger of his right in -the pale countenance of the bloody man before him, he fixed his eyes -upon him with a look of dark and stern significance, the meaning of -which was not to be mistaken. He said not a word, but the glance was -sufficient; and there was no one present who did not read therein a -threat to make the demagogue taste of the portion he assigned to -others, if he pursued his bloody course any further--a threat which -did not fail to receive its accomplishment at an after period.</p><p class="normal">Mayenne held him in his powerful grasp for nearly a minute; then, -letting his arm drop, he turned, and, while Le Clerc slunk away -amongst his creatures, exclaimed aloud, "Bring forth the President de -Blancmesnil!"</p><p class="normal">Several of the officers hastened to obey; and an old man, whose noble -countenance and silver hairs might well win respect and pity, was -brought out into the court, while two or three of the governor's -satellites hurriedly untied the cords which had pinioned his hands -behind.</p><p class="normal">"Ah! my good lord of Mayenne!" he exclaimed, as he approached, "I am -happy to see your face."</p><p class="normal">"I had nearly come too late, Monsieur de Blancmesnil," replied -Mayenne; "but still I am in time to tell you, that by the authority in -me reposed, you are set free from this moment; and that whatever -proceedings have been taken against you, in whatever court, whether -legal or illegal, are null and void, so far as I can render them so."</p><p class="normal">The old man cast himself at Mayenne's feet and embraced his knees. -"Thank you, my lord!" he said: "I thank you, and God will reward you -for saving a guiltless man, on whose life some hopes and some -affections are still fixed by those he loves; but yet, my lord, one -boon--grant me one boon more, and let the cup of your generosity -overflow! You have given me life--give me also liberty, and suffer me -to retire from a city where each day shows me something either to -condemn or to regret, and retire to the court of my lawful sovereign, -where alone I can serve my country as I ought."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne paused for a moment, and his countenance, though not of the -most expressive character, gave evident marks of a strong internal -struggle; the quick glance of displeasure, and the open expansion of -more generous feelings, succeeding each other rapidly, like the quick -light and shade flying across a landscape in an autumn day, as the -clouds are borne over the bright sky by the hasty wind. The sunshine, -however, at length predominated. "Be it so; Blancmesnil, be it so," he -replied, "be it so. I had hoped that your wisdom, your attachment to -the faith, and your love of virtue would have kept you from a court of -fools, of heretics, and of villains; but I will not stay you, if you -love such men."</p><p class="normal">"My lord," said Blancmesnil in a tone almost of sorrow, "it would be -ungrateful in me to answer you. Suffer me alone to say, that the most -imperative and absolute sense of duty alone would induce me to repeat -the request which I have made. None would more willingly spend his -last few hours of this brief life in the service of one so noble and -so generous as yourself than old Blancmesnil; but it cannot be, my -lord, without the sacrifice of all those principles which have won me -the esteem of your Highness."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well!" replied Mayenne, conscious that the impression produced -by any further discussion of this kind in the hearing of St. Real -would be very opposite to that which he could desire; "well, well! far -be it from me to withhold any man from the path on which he thinks -that duty prompts him. A bold enemy I love next to a faithful friend: -it is only traitors to either cause that deserve punishment. Go! -Blancmesnil, go! and do not forget that as much as we hate the vices -which we are armed to crush, so much do we love virtue, even in an -enemy!"</p><p class="normal">Mayenne felt that he had regained his advantage; and, turning to St. -Real, he said, "Well, Monsieur de St. Real, you will return with me, -for it grows late, and my sister will soon expect us. I will bear you -company on foot. Sometimes I love to ramble amongst the people for a -while, and hear the unvarnished opinions of the streets. Greatness, -caged in gilded saloons, knows too little of the world around it, and -needs now and then to take a flight amongst the wide universe of other -beings, to learn how many varied and different aspects the state of -all things can assume to the myriads of eyes that are looking on each -passing event. You, Longjumeau," he continued, "take the horsemen, and -guard Monsieur de Blancmesnil safely to his house. Wait there with him -till all his preparations are made; and then, with a white flag, pass -him safely to the outposts of the Huguenots at Meudon. Fare you well, -Blancmesnil!" he added, turning to the old man; "I must embrace you -once more, though you will be my enemy."</p><p class="normal">"Perhaps more your friend, my lord, in quitting you, than I should -have been in staying with you," replied the President. Mayenne -answered nothing, but, turning away, led St. Real from the Bastile, -and took his way back to the Hotel de Guise, followed on foot by the -principal part of the gentlemen of his household who had attended him -to the state prison. No matter of any importance occurred during their -walk; and St. Real was pleased to find, that far from attempting in -any degree to influence him against his better judgment, the Duke -confined his conversation solely to indifferent topics, commenting -upon all the many objects of attention which all great cities present -with as much liveliness as his nature permitted. More than one -interruption occurred as they passed on, springing from the various -duties and functions with which the Duke had charged himself, or with -which the people chose to burden him. It was now an officer from the -outposts, who stopped them on the way to demand orders and directions -for the night; then a bare-footed friar, of not the most prepossessing -appearance, approached the princely Mayenne, and held with him a -whispering conversation of several minutes in the open street; then -again a high officer, belonging to one of the courts of law, with his -bonnet in his hand, presented some papers relative to the proceedings -against the President de Blancmesnil; and then an old woman, thinking -that she had as good a right as any other citizen of Paris to her -share of the great Duke, hobbled across his path, and presented her -dirty <i>placet</i> regarding a stall in the Fauxbourg de l'Université, and -reinforced her petition by a torrent of that peculiar eloquence -possessed by old apple-women in all civilised countries.</p><p class="normal">Mayenne gave her some mild but evasive reply; and turning with a smile -towards St. Real, as they walked on, he said, "You see the post I -occupy is not without its cares, and those cares so nicely balanced as -to be all equally weighty; for you may judge, by that old woman, that, -if the greater cares are more oppressive, the lighter are the more -importunate."</p><p class="normal">All these interruptions of their onward progress had occupied no small -time; so that the western sky began to look rosy with the summer -sunset ere they reached the Hotel de Guise. "Quick! Monsieur de St. -Real," said Mayenne, as they entered the vestibule; "quick! for in -less than half an hour my sister will expect us at her supper-table."</p><p class="normal">St. Real accordingly retired to his apartments, and changing his dress -with all speed, sent down one of his followers to seek out some of the -attendants of the Duchess de Montpensier, and discover to what -chamber, of all the many in that wide and rambling mansion, he was to -bend his steps. Almost immediately after a servant of the Duchess -appeared to conduct him; and he was led down the stairs, and through -the manifold passages and turnings of the Hotel de Guise, at that -particular moment of the day ere factitious light has supplied the -place of the blessed sunshine, and when such rays of the set orb as -still linger in the sky and find their way through the windows--though -as rosy as those of the morning--are melancholy rather than gay. At -length the servant opened the door of a small cabinet, and passing -through, led St. Real into a larger room beyond, where he left him.</p><p class="normal">Standing near one of the windows at the farther end, and apparently -gazing forth with some attention, appeared the figure of a lady in -deep mourning. The light was not sufficient for St. Real to -distinguish who she was; but her garb showed that it was not Madame de -Montpensier, and St. Real was sure that it was not the Duchess de -Guise. His heart beat quick, far quicker than he liked--for the heart -is sometimes a prophet--and, for a moment, he paused in the midst of -the room. The next instant, however, he again advanced: the lady -turned as he approached, roused from her reverie by the sound of his -footsteps, and St. Real suddenly found himself alone in the chamber -with Eugenie de Menancourt. He was not surprised--at least he had no -right to be so--for he was prepared to meet Mademoiselle de Menancourt -at the Hotel de Guise that night; but it were vain to say that he was -not agitated. He knew not why, and he was angry with himself for -feelings which he could not, which he would not, perhaps, account for -to his own understanding.</p><p class="normal">With Eugenie it was different. She was both surprised and agitated; -for the last person she had expected, yet the person she had most -wished to see, was the Marquis of St. Real. It was natural enough, -too, that she should desire to see him: she had known him from her -infancy; she had learned, in the early habits of unrestrained -intercourse, to look upon him as a brother; she had found him always -kind and gentle in his affections, clear and just in his opinions, and -firm and noble in his principles; and, in the friendless and orphan -state in which she was now left, there was no one to whom she so -longed to apply for advice, assistance, and protection as to Huon of -St. Real. At one time, indeed, in her utter ignorance of the -selfishness of faction, she had contemplated applying to the Duke of -Mayenne for permission to retire to the castle of the old Marquis of -St. Real, whose neutrality between the contending parties of the day, -she had fondly fancied, might obviate the objections which the leader -of the League would entertain to any other asylum not within the -immediate grasp of his own power. There was, however, in her bosom a -vague unacknowledged consciousness of feelings, which she wished not -to render more distinct--a sort of apprehension lest the world should -attribute to her motives that she would have shrunk from entertaining ---which made her hesitate so long in regard to giving voice to her -request, that ere she decided the tidings reached her that the old -lord was dead, and that the refuge which she might otherwise have -hoped to find in his dwelling was consequently shut against her -forever. Her thoughts, then, had often been busy with St. Real; she -had often longed to see him, to speak with him, to confide her -situation, her fears, her anxieties, her danger, to one in whom she -was sure to find a kind and feeling auditor. With these wishes, -however, no hopes had been combined. She knew, or believed she knew, -that St. Real's principles would lead him to join the royal party; and -that, therefore, unless he entered Paris as a victor or a prisoner, -there was little chance of his visiting the capital. Madame de -Montpensier, in summoning her to the Hotel de Guise, had given her no -information of the object for which she was called thither; and she -had obeyed with some degree of alarm, which had not been decreased by -an apparent inattention and want of courtesy on the part of the -Duchess, evinced by leaving her for nearly half an hour unnoticed in -the wide and solitary chamber to which she had been ushered on her -first arrival. Her sensations, therefore, on beholding St. Real, were -purely those of surprise and pleasure; but they reached the height of -agitation.</p><p class="normal">She spoke not; but, as the last light that lingered in the sky shone -upon her beautiful countenance through the open window, St. Real -beheld the warm blood rush up into her cheek and forehead, a beaming -lustre dance in her eyes, and a bright irrepressible smile play about -her lips, that plainly told he was no unwelcome visiter. The hand that -was instantly extended to him he took in his; and he thought it no -treason to his cousin to press his lips upon it. All that Eugenie and -St. Real first said was too hurried and confused, too shapeless and -unconnected, to bear much meaning if written down in mere cold words, -without the looks, and the gestures, and the feelings, that at the -time gave life and soul to those words themselves. They had a thousand -things to speak of. Since their last meeting each had lost a father, -each had lost a friend; and the affection that either had borne to the -dead parent of the other was matter of deep sympathy and feeling -between them. All their thoughts, their sorrows, their regrets, were -in common, and their conversation, for some time, was one of those -deep, touching, artless, unrestrained communications of mutual ideas, -which--full of the reciprocation of bright sentiments--more than aught -else on earth knit heart and heart together.</p><p class="normal">At length St. Real remembered that he was losing moments which he had -destined for another purpose; and some of the servants entering to -light the lamps and sconces in the apartment, at once showed him that -he had no time to lose, and gave him an opportunity of changing the -topic. As soon as they were left once more alone, he spoke of his -cousin, the Count d'Aubin, and approached, without directly speaking -of the subject of his pretensions, to Mademoiselle de Menancourt.</p><p class="normal">Eugenie turned as pale as death, and then again the red blood mounted -to her cheek with a quick vehement blush: she too felt that there was -an infinity to be said, and feared that there might be little time to -say it. There was much--she felt there was much--to be staked upon the -conversation of the next few instants; and she determined that, -whatever report of her sentiments St. Real might bear his cousin, it -should be such as to put an end for ever to his hopes of her -affection.</p><p class="normal">"And would you, St. Real," she said, "would you, who know both him and -me, would you press me to fulfil an engagement, in making which I -myself bore no part, and which, even on the side of my father, was, as -far as I can learn, but conditional? No, St. Real, no! sooner than -disobey my father's commands, I would have sacrificed happiness, -perhaps life itself: but he left me free, and pointedly, with his last -breath, bade me, in the difficult circumstances in which I should be -placed, use my own judgment. That judgment will never lead me to -become the wife of one who can act as you and I have seen Philip -d'Aubin act."</p><p class="normal">"But, believe me, Eugenie," replied St. Real, "Philip has changed. He -loves you deeply, sincerely; and that love will teach him to seek your -happiness by gaining your esteem."</p><p class="normal">"No, no! St. Real," replied Eugenie with a sigh, "no, no! he loves -nothing but himself. I know him better than you do. While I thought -that, at some time, I was to become his wife, I strove to love him as -great an effort as woman can strive to direct the feelings of her own -heart. In striving to love him, I strove to know him; and thus I -learned all the baseness, all the selfishness, of his character. -Forgive me, St. Real, for using such harsh language: you know it is -not in my nature to speak or to feel thus, except in a case where all -my happiness is concerned: but I wish you to understand at once, and -for ever, that I will not marry Philip d'Aubin--because I do not love -him."</p><p class="normal">"But might not time, and assiduity, and nobler deeds, teach you to -love him?" demanded St. Real: "for, believe me, Eugenie, better -qualities lie slumbering in his heart, which a great object might -awake and strengthen. Might he not teach you to love him?"</p><p class="normal">"I would not love him for a universe," replied Eugenie; "for the woman -who loves him is sure to be miserable. But press me no more, St. Real, -press me no more: my resolution is taken--my mind and my heart are -fixed. I do not love Philip d'Aubin--I never have loved him--I never -can love him; and, sooner than become his wife, I would resign all -that I have on earth but the dowry of a nun; quit the world, and seek -peace in the cloister."</p><p class="normal">St. Real replied but by a sigh; and although that sigh might be one of -sorrow for the disappointment of his cousin, yet it called up in the -bosom of Eugenie de Menancourt varied emotions, that, for a moment, -sent another bright flush across her cheek, which, fading away again, -left her as pale as death. Ere the soft natural hue had returned, and -ere St. Real had time to separate his mingled feelings from each -other, and give to those he thought it right to express, the door -opened, and Madame de Montpensier appeared alone.</p><p class="normal">Strange is it to say, but no less true, that though Eugenie de -Menancourt and Huon de St. Real had both longed for such a moment of -calm and unobserved communion, the approach of a third person was, at -that moment, a relief to both. Nor was the manner of Madame de -Montpensier at all calculated to lessen that sensation: it was the -same which she had assumed in the morning towards St. Real, and which -she had found succeed so well, that she determined not to abandon it -till he had quitted Paris. She was, perhaps, even calmer and more -tranquil in her demeanour now than she had appeared before: for -reading, with deep knowledge, the secrets of the human heart, she knew -that such a demeanour was best in harmony with the feelings which she -wished St. Real and Eugenie to experience towards each other. -Approaching, then, slowly and tranquilly, she welcomed Mademoiselle de -Menancourt cordially, and then proceeded to speak of various -indifferent subjects with wit and grace, but with very tempered -gaiety, until the appearance of the Duchess of Guise, and then of the -Duke of Mayenne, gave a different turn to the conversation. Supper was -almost immediately announced; and, during the meal, all passed in the -same calm tone. Eugenie, for the first time in her life, thought -Madame de Montpensier as fascinating in manners as she was generally -reported to be; and although she could not help feeling, with a degree -of discomfort, that the eyes of the princess were frequently upon her -with an inquiring, or rather, investigating, glance, yet the minutes -went by more pleasantly than any she had known for many months. St. -Real, too, felt the time brief and sweet; but, arguing from the costly -apparel of the Duchess and her sister, that they were either going -forth to figure on some more splendid scene, or were about to receive -other guests at home, he judged that the moments allowed to such -conversation as he then enjoyed would be but few; and he tormented -himself by remembering a thousand things he wished to say to -Mademoiselle de Menancourt, which he had forgotten at the only time -when they could have been said.</p><p class="normal">At length the party rose; and, if the sound of rolling wheels, and -shouting attendants, and trampling horses, augured true, the members -of the house of Guise were even somewhat late in preparing to receive -the noble guests who were invited that night to meet together in -gaiety and splendour, though the morning had passed with many in -strife and bloodshed, and though iron war was thundering with his -cannon at the gates.</p><p class="normal">On the first signal of their design to quit the supper table, the -attendants, who stood round, threw open the doors of the hall, and -Madame de Montpensier, taking Eugenie by the hand, led the way into -another chamber, which was already brilliantly lighted, and evidently -prepared for some occasion of splendour, but into which, as yet, no -one had been admitted. Passing through that and several rooms beyond, -they at length approached a saloon, the door of which was open, and -from which proceeded the busy hum of many voices; while various -figures were seen passing to and fro across the aperture of the -doorway, like the painted shadows cast by a phantasmagoria. Some of -those guests, however, who watch for great men's steps, and observe -their looks, soon perceived the approach of the family of Guise; and -the words, "The Duke, the Duke! His Highness the lieutenant-general!" -pronounced by several voices within, created, for the moment a brief -bustle among the guests, and then the silence of expectation, till the -party entered the room.</p><p class="normal">The number already assembled might amount to nearly fifty, of whom the -greater proportion were officers and soldiers, either personally -attendant upon the Duke of Mayenne, or eager to pay court to him whose -fortunes were for the time in the ascendant. For them, governments, -commands, and the many military employments which gave profuse -opportunity of squeezing a divided people, formed the attractions -towards one at whose disposal were placed all the good things of at -least one half the empire. The rest of the party who occupied the -saloon were made up of the lower classes of the French nobility, male -and female, principally the <i>noblesse de la robe</i>, who, with the same -views as the others, though directed in a different line, sought to be -amongst the first at the Hotel de Guise.</p><p class="normal">Not long after, however, another class began to arrive, who, willing -to associate with Mayenne, to partake of the influence of his good -fortune, to share what he chose to delegate of his power, and to -obtain for their younger children the various benefices in his gift, -were yet desirous of distinguishing themselves from even the democracy -of their own order, by making the hour of their visit somewhat later, -that they might not be confounded in the first rush of the subservient -crowd. Last of all, as if in mockery of the pride of their immediate -predecessors, came the fops, the coxcombs, the witlings, the -debauchees of Paris, heedless of all interests but the dear first -all-absorbing interests of their own vanity, and ready to laugh or -sneer at everything and everybody, from the great Duke himself, down -to the last new-made <i>procureur</i>, who claimed a right to bear arms and -call himself <i>gentilhomme</i>.</p><p class="normal">On his arrival in the hall, the Duke advanced and bowed round him with -the dignity, and perhaps with a little more than the pride, of a -legitimate monarch. Though his eye had not much of the fire and energy -which characterized that of his father and his brother, it was -sufficiently quick and marking to observe in the room all those who -are likely to be serviceable, either individually to himself, or more -generally, to the state; and to each of these he took care to address -some word of more particular favour and encouragement. Some he passed -with a mere inclination of the head; some he noticed not at all. -Madame de Montpensier, however, though in her heart prouder than her -brother, was one of those--of those few persons--capable of feeling -the master passions of human nature in all the terrible energy in -which they can display themselves. Hatred, revenge, and ambition, were -for the time, predominant in her heart: and these are idols to which, -as to the Moloch of the Ammonites, pride will even sacrifice its -children. Knowing and feeling that the meanest man present might -accelerate or retard the objects of her desire, casting aside all her -natural vanity, and all the haughtiness of her race, Madame de -Montpensier mingled with the crowd, and--while her languishing -sister, the Duchess of Guise, sat coquetting with her own particular -admirers--she spoke with every one, smiled upon every one, and left -each with increased prepossession in her favour, and renewed -attachment to her cause.</p><p class="normal">As the crowd increased, and the rooms became full, the party separated -into groups, classing themselves by the various standards of rank, -opinions, wit, or tastes. For all, amusement was provided in case -conversation should not be sufficient to fill up the time; and many -took advantage of such arrangements to favour or to conceal the -purposes and the views with which each came thither more or less -preoccupied. In one chamber the dice rolled upon the board, while one -of the most vehement players was every now and then seen to hold a -brief conversation with various persons who came and went in the room. -At other tables again, those flat, dull pieces of mischievous -pasteboard called cards were dealt and played in solemn silence, -except when some biting jest, or well-directed and premeditated sneer, -found a hook to hang itself upon, even in so insignificant a thing as -the foolish names assigned to different cards. Then, again, in a vast -and brilliant hall beyond, music of the sweetest kind hung upon the -air; while the dance offered its protection to every sort of scheming, -from the soft business of innocent love, to foul intrigue and tortuous -policy.</p><p class="normal">In the midst of all this, St. Real, in the simplicity of his heart, -saw nothing but very innocent amusement. Eugenie refused to take a -part in the dance; and how or why he knew not, St. Real found himself -generally by her side. Such a scene, of all others on the earth, -affords the greatest opportunity of private communication; but, if the -thoughts, the wishes, and the purposes of the speakers be not -intimately known to each other, it may become the most dangerous place -for such communion also. The half-spoken sentence is so often -interrupted at the very point where it is the most interesting, and -where it most needs explanation--so much must be said in haste, or not -said at all--so much must be left to fancy--so great is the treasure -turned over to imagination--that he who plays with hearts should be -very sure of his game before he ventures boldly in such a scene as -that. St. Real and Eugenie de Menancourt conversed, at first, upon -subjects of every-day import and of general reference; but there were -between them so many stores of private feeling and thought, that, upon -whatever topic they began, the conversation soon flowed back to -matters in regard to which their own hearts were in unison respecting -either the past or the present. They found it vain to struggle against -the stream of sympathies that either sooner or later drew their -communion apart from the things that surrounded them; and as the -evening went on, they more and more gave way to what they felt; -endeavouring, indeed, to avoid speaking of their own sentiments in an -individual manner, but still only covering their personal feelings -under a thin veil of general observations. This veil, too, was so -often rent by accidental interruptions--the termination of a phrase -which was intended to give it its general character so often remained -unspoken, that every minute, as it flew, left the hearts of Eugenie de -Menancourt and Huon of St. Real with deeper and more agitating -feelings than either of them had ever felt before: and yet, like all -other people who have loved where it would have been wiser not, they -were unconscious of what they were encouraging in their own hearts. -Eugenie was agitated, but was not alarmed. St. Real was delighted, but -only fearful, when he saw the eye of any one marking the close -position that he occupied by Eugenie's side, lest it should be -supposed that he was making love to her who had been promised to his -cousin; but he never believed--he never dreamed--that he was making -love--that he was winning her heart, and yielding his own. The very -efforts he had made that very night in favour of his cousin were -sufficient to blind him entirely, and to lead him, like a general -deceived by his guides, into the cunning ambush which the keen archer -Cupid so skilfully lays for the advanced parties of the human heart.</p><p class="normal">At length, towards midnight--that enchanted hour, when all the powers -of the imagination, the fairies of the microcosm within us, are up and -revelling in the greenest spots of the human heart--at length, towards -midnight, when music, and conversation, and gay sights, and happy -faces all around, and pleasant words, and the bright eyes of the sweet -and beautiful, had left St. Real's fancy as excited as ever was -Bacchus' self by the juice of the Achaian vine, Madame de Montpensier -stood by his side; and, laying the jewelled forefinger of her right -hand upon his arm, called his attention while she said, "I have a -message to give Monsieur de St. Real from my brother, who cannot -detach himself from that group to speak with you in person, and who -fears that you may be absent to-morrow, ere he can see you. I will not -detain you one instant."</p><p class="normal">St. Real obeyed the summons at once, giving but one look, as he turned -to follow Madame de Montpensier, towards Eugenie de Menancourt, and -another towards a young cavalier, who hastened to fill up the place he -abandoned at her side. The Duchess also gave a glance to each, and a -third to St. Real; and then, with a smile, led the way across the -ball-room, and through two or three chambers beyond, to the utmost -verge of the long suite of apartments, which was that night thrown -open to the public.</p><p class="normal">There, looking round her to see that she was unobserved, she paused, -and turned towards the young cavalier. "Monsieur de St. Real," she -said, in a calm, sweet, but impressive tone, "when you came to Paris, -you came undecided whether to join the friends and supporters of the -Catholic faith, or its enemies. I think that you have seen enough of -us now to judge and to decide; and I have not the slightest doubt of -what your decision will be; nay, what it is! But, setting all that -apart, I have an offer to make you, which the noblest amongst all yon -glittering throng would give his right hand to hear addressed to -himself. Mark me, Monsieur de St. Real! A woman's eyes are keen: you -love Mademoiselle de Menancourt! Nay, stop me not; but hear! Eugenie -de Menancourt loves you! I, in the name of the lieutenant-general of -the kingdom, offer you her hand. Take it, and be happy! Spare my -brother a world of anxiety and difficulty on her account; spare her -the pain of importunity; relieve her from the helpless exposure of her -present situation; and make the loveliest creature of all France -happy, in the protection of him she loves!"</p><p class="normal">Pausing for a moment, she gave one glance at the countenance of her -auditor, and then added, "Say not a word to-night! but breakfast with -me <i>tźte-ą-tźte</i> to-morrow, when all difficulties and obstacles shall -be removed for ever!"</p><p class="normal">She turned away, and left St. Real standing alone in the room, feeling -that the casket of his heart was opened to his own sight, and its -deepest secrets displayed, never to be concealed again by any of the -thin and glistening veils with which human weakness cloaks itself so -effectually against the purblind eyes of self-examination. He cast -himself into a seat, and for some minutes remained in bitter commune -with his own heart, while the music and the dancing, and the gay -society of the capital, were as unmarked as if they had not existed. -Then remembering, painfully, that his demeanour had been already but -too accurately watched, he rose, and, with a flushed cheek and -contracted brow, returned to the chief saloon. As he approached -Eugenie de Menancourt, however, he perceived that she was preparing to -depart with a lady of high rank and advanced years, under whose -especial care Madame de Montpensier had placed her. Eugenie paused as -he came near. The crowd of gay gallants, who were pressing forward -with the formal courtesy of the day to offer their services in -conducting her to the carriage, drew back as he approached, as if -already warned of the purposes of Mayenne in regard to the rich -heiress. St. Real felt what was expected of him, and at once offered -his hand; but it was with an air of restraint and absence that -instantly caught the eye of her to whom he spoke. She suffered him to -lead her through the rooms in silence; but, as a turn on the staircase -left them for a moment alone, her anxiety prevailed, and, with an -unsteady voice, she said, "You seem suddenly unhappy, Monsieur de St. -Real. Has anything occurred to pain you?"</p><p class="normal">St. Real was not a good dissembler; and Eugenie had not dissembled. He -heard in the soft, scarce audible tone--he felt in the trembling of -the hand that lay in his--he saw in the soft and swimming eyes that -looked on him--the truth of one part of what the Princess had said; -and in his own heart he felt but too strongly the truth of all the -rest. St. Real was not a good dissembler; and all he could reply was, -"Oh, Eugenie!" but it was enough.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XV.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">St. Real entered not again the lighted halls in which the leaders and -partisans of the League were assembled; but he paused for a moment in -the open air, after the carriage which bore Eugenie de Menancourt -towards her solitary home had driven out of the courtyard and passed -away down the echoing streets. A momentary burst of artillery and -small arms came, borne upon the wind, from a distance, as the -indefatigable Henry of Navarre roused the Parisian garrisons with an -<i>alerte</i> from the side of Meudon: but the mind of St. Real was too -deeply busied with other thoughts for the thunder of the cannon to -awake in his heart the martial and chivalrous spirit that lay within. -The discovery which he had made of his own feelings was, in every -respect, painful; and the insight which he had gained into those of -Eugenie de Menancourt herself--although there is ever a sweet and -soothing balm in the consciousness of being loved--was hardly less -bitter. The idea of entering into rivalry with his cousin--of -attempting to deprive one who confided in him of the hand of his -promised bride--the idea of seeking, or even receiving happiness -himself at the expense of that of Philip d'Aubin, found not harbour in -the bosom of St. Real for one single moment. Deeply and severely did -he blame himself for having suffered such feelings to grow up in his -heart as the occurrences of that night had discovered to his own -sight; and still more bitterly did he reproach himself for having -allowed his feelings to carry him away as they had lately done. Even -the degree of regard with which he saw that Eugenie de Menancourt -looked on him was an additional reproach; for he well knew that that -regard could not have been obtained without conduct on his own part -which, although involuntary, he looked upon as a betrayal of his -cousin's confidence.</p><p class="normal">St. Real was not a man, however, to waste upon fruitless regrets those -powers of mind which should be employed in forming and executing noble -resolutions. He grieved bitterly for what was past, but he grieved -only with the purpose of shaping his conduct differently for the -future; and, as he turned again to enter the Hotel de Guise, it was -with the full determination of never seeing Eugenie de Menancourt -again, till the fate of Philip d'Aubin, as far as it was connected -with hers, was fixed beyond all recall.</p><p class="normal">This resolution was joined with another, which rendered the first not -difficult to execute. With all her art, with all her skill, with all -her knowledge of human character, and with all her insight into that -of St. Real, Madame de Montpensier had overreached herself. She had -been able to comprehend and appreciate the simplicity and purity with -which he was attached to Eugenie de Menancourt, without perceiving the -nature of his own feelings; but the quality of her own mind prevented -her from comprehending the deep firmness of principle which existed in -his heart, and from foreseeing the means that principle would take to -combat love as soon as ever the progress of the insidious enemy was -discovered. The proposal that she had made to him had produced upon -the mind of St. Real an effect the most directly opposite to that -which she had intended. The character of the Duke of Mayenne St. Real -could not but esteem: there was a dignity, a generosity, a frankness -about it, which, together with his splendid talents, commanded no -small admiration; and had St. Real been convinced that his opposition -to his king, that his bold rebellion, that even his connexion with a -party, factious, turbulent, and depraved, originated in motives of -patriotism and virtue, his views of the League might have been -modified by his opinion of the leader, and his ultimate conduct -determined by the judgment he might form in regard to whether that -leader's efforts would, or would not, be ultimately beneficial to his -country. In the course of that night, however, he had heard and seen -enough to convince him that the passion of Mayenne was ambition, and -that his object was his own aggrandizement; and the only hold, -therefore, that the League could have had upon St. Real would have -been virtue, honour, and patriotism, in the whole, considered as a -party.</p><p class="normal">The question, therefore, with the young Marquis had now become, -whether the League did, or did not, possess such qualities. At the -Jacobins, on the preceding night, however, he had witnessed the means -employed by those who were considered the holiest men amongst them to -obtain ends which he could not doubt were treacherous and bloody: that -very night it had been calmly proposed to him, as a bribe to attach -him to the party of the League, to betray his cousin's confidence, and -to gratify his own passions at the expense of his honour and -integrity. In his examination of the city during the day, he had seen -the high and the noble demeaning themselves to court popularity by -fawning on persons they despised--an irrefragable proof that their own -designs were base; he had seen the good and the just in the filthy and -unsparing hands of villains and plunderers; and he had seen those who -professed to be the ministers of a God of peace armed to promote a -civil war and to shed the blood of their fellow-creatures!</p><p class="normal">What then could be the result, he asked himself, when a leader, whose -principle was ambition, took upon him to guide a fierce and lawless -multitude, composed of nobles whose motive was selfishness, of priests -whose spirit was fanaticism, and of a rabble whose objects were -licentiousness, bloodshed, and plunder? The answer was not difficult; -and, as he turned and mounted the staircase, amidst the crowd of -lacqueys and attendants who stared at his thoughtful and abstracted -demeanour without his noticing their presence, he determined to -proceed to the royal camp as early as might be on the following -morning, doubting not that, whatever might be the vices and the -follies it presented to his sight, he should there find the path which -led to his country's welfare, and, he trusted, also to his own peace -of mind.</p><p class="normal">Passing the doors of the saloons, he proceeded to that part of the -house in which was situated the apartments that had been assigned to -him; and, sending for his master of the horse--a common officer at -that time, in the houses of the principal French nobility--he directed -him to have everything prepared to quit Paris by daybreak on the -following morning. The earliness of the hour which he thus appointed -was not dictated by any apprehension that Mayenne would endeavour to -impede his departure; but, his resolution being taken, and his opinion -fixed by the most favourable view that could be afforded him of the -party of the League itself, he wished to avoid, as far as possible, -anything like solicitation; and he likewise desired neither to explain -his feelings, nor reason upon his motives, in the conduct he was about -to pursue regarding Eugenie de Menancourt.</p><p class="normal">His sensations, indeed, upon the subject were so painful in -themselves, that St. Real did not wish either to speak of or to dwell -upon them. Arguing, with the usual simplicity of his nature, that, -where our wishes and our duties are at variance, it is better to -employ our thoughts in performing the duties, than to give them up to -the hard task of combating the wishes--in which combat they are but -too often defeated--he prepared to occupy all the energies of his mind -in the attempt to serve his country, and to benefit to the utmost of -his power the party he had determined to espouse, leaving his cousin -to pursue his suit towards Eugenie de Menancourt as best he might, but -endeavouring to serve him therein by pointing his efforts to nobler -objects than had hitherto employed them, and by taking care that all -he did should be placed in a fairer light than that in which the -levity and somewhat vain indifference of d'Aubin had hitherto -permitted his own actions to appear.</p><p class="normal">Poor St. Real, however, did not know how hard is the task--how -painful, how continual is the struggle, to turn the thoughts of a -feeling and affectionate heart from the objects of its first -attachment, and to occupy, even in the busiest scenes and most -stirring actions wherein other men find employment for their whole -soul, a mind to which love has given its direction elsewhere. His -first experience of what he was but too long to undergo, was made when -he lay down to rest, on the night of which we have just spoken. He -thought to sleep, to taste the same refreshing, undisturbed slumbers -which were so rarely absent from his pillow; but, alas! alas! how -changed were all his sensations. The burning thirst for thoughts -to which he would not give way--the consciousness that he was -resigning for ever that which would have made his happiness through -life--anxieties, which he dared not probe, regarding the happiness of -her he loved--self-reproaches, slight, indeed, but bitter, because -they were the first he had ever had occasion to address to his own -heart--and doubts respecting the conduct and vows of his cousin, which -he now saw with eyes sharpened by love--all planted his pillow thick -with thorns; and he tossed in feverish restlessness upon his uneasy -couch, while slumber and all its wholesome balms were far away.</p><p class="normal">The sounds of music and of laughing, which to his saddened heart -rang like the revelry of fiends, came in bursts up to his windows; -and the roll of carriages, the trampling of horses, the shouts of -torch-bearers, and the murmuring hum of a thousand less vociferous -tongues, poured irritatingly upon his ear, and set sleep at defiance. -Gradually, however, those sounds died away, and that space of time -which the citizens of the masterless metropolis called a day, and set -apart for the transaction of a certain portion of intrigue and -faction, levity, sensuality, and bloodshed, came to an end. The bell -of the neighbouring church, unheard during many an hour of turbulence -and noise, struck two, and the whole world around sank into silence, -if not into repose. Still, however, sleep came not to the eyes of St. -Real; and he lay and counted the moments till a new class of sounds -were heard, announcing that the sons of toil were up and busy in the -task of preparing luxuries for the sons of idleness and dissipation. -At length, a faint rosy light was seen to glimmer through the open -window, the indistinct forms of the massive furniture began to stand -out from the gray darkness, and St. Real started up more weary and -fatigued with that one night of restless anxiety than he would have -felt after weeks of watching in the tented field.</p><p class="normal">The first task, after dressing himself, was to sit down, and, with the -writing materials that stood at hand, to indite a brief note to the -Duke of Mayenne, apologizing for not waiting to make a more formal -leave-taking. He did not, it is true, announce in distinct terms his -determination of joining his arms to the other supporters of the royal -cause, because he felt it was within the bounds of possibility that -circumstances might yet change his purpose; though, as he left the -matter still open, he thought that bad must be the scene presented by -the camp of the Henrys indeed, if it could make him prefer the craft, -the treachery, and the baseness he had beheld in Paris. In this -respect, while expressing his high opinion of the Duke himself, he did -not scruple to use language and to display sentiments which had -already brought many a venerable and respected head low, amongst the -factions and anarchy of the day; and, having said enough to show which -way his feelings at that moment led him, he descended to the court, -and, mounting his horse, which, with his train, stood prepared for -departure, he bade adieu to the Hotel de Guise.</p><p class="normal">The streets of Paris now presented a very different scene from that -which they afforded in either the full life of the risen day, or in -the dregs of the evening. Few were the persons to be seen walking -slowly along in the fresh, clear, unpolluted light of the early -morning; and the long irregular perspective of the antique streets -might be seen unencumbered by the many gaudy vehicles which obstructed -the sight at a later hour. As St. Real rode on towards the suburbs, -one or two patrols of horse, returning from their night watch beyond -the walls, passed him with tired faces and soiled arms; but, although -the numbers that composed his train were sufficient to have justified -some inquiry, yet such was the confused organization of the garrison -of Paris, and of the army of the League in general, that no one asked -his errand, and he passed on uninterrupted to the gates.</p><p class="normal">Here, however, he was detained for some minutes, while the drowsy -commander of the guard examined his pass and safe-conduct: and some -suspicious glances were given to the apparel of his followers, who -wore neither the black cross, nor the scarf of the followers of the -League. At the end of about a quarter of an hour, however, he was -suffered to proceed; and, as the position of the royal armies was not -distinctly known to him, he directed his course towards Meudon, at -which place it was certain that a part, at least, of the Huguenot -force had shown itself the day before. Greater watchfulness was now -apparent on the part of the League; and St. Real was challenged and -stopped five or six times within half a mile of the gates of Paris. At -length, a wide green meadow by the banks of the Seine presented -itself; and at the angle of this meadow and the road stood a solitary -sentinel, covered with his cuirass, his <i>salade</i> or iron cap, and -steel plates to defend the thighs. In one hand he carried his long -musket, while with the other he held his coil of match, smouldering -slowly, between the finger and thumb, and only requiring to be blown -to prepare it for immediate action. In the ground, just one pace -before him, was planted the iron-shod stake, which, supporting a sort -of two-pronged fork, afforded a rest for his long and unwieldy weapon -in case of his being called upon to make use of it against any -advancing enemy. Painted in front of his iron cuirass appeared the -black cross of the League; and there could be no doubt that this was -the extreme outpost of the garrison of Paris. It would seem, however, -that he had no order to oppose the passage of persons coming from the -side of the city; for, although he gazed attentively at the young -Marquis and his party as they passed, he asked no questions; and St. -Real advanced along the road skirting the meadow, towards an extensive -building that he saw at the distance of a quarter of a mile before -him, and which bore every sign of being, what it really was, a -religious house belonging to some order of friars.</p><p class="normal">Scarcely had he passed half the distance between the sentinel of the -League and the gate of the monastery, when a considerable body of -horsemen drew out from behind some trees at the farther extremity of -the field, and galloped towards the travellers with their lances down -in somewhat menacing array. St. Real immediately halted his men, and -waited calmly for the approach of the strangers, who advanced at full -speed almost till the parties met, without choosing to notice the -peaceable demeanour of the young lord and his attendants. The moment -after, however, they came to a halt; and two or three, riding forward -before the rest, demanded "<i>Qui vive?</i>" apparently not half satisfied -with the appearance of St. Real and his attendants. The white scarfs -borne by the leaders of this impetuous party sufficiently indicated to -what army they belonged; and, replying "<i>Vive le Roi!</i>" St. Real -produced the pass he had received from Henry III.</p><p class="normal">"No game for us, this!" exclaimed he who seemed to be their chief, as -he read the authentic letters of safe-conduct placed before his eyes. -"Good faith, Sir Marquis of St. Real, we thought that Monsieur de -Mayenne had roused himself from his bed full four hours before his -ordinary time, and was sending out parties to take us by surprise, -thinking that we were as laggard and sleepy-headed as himself. -However, we will, if you please, form your escort to the next post, -and beyond that you will find your way easily to the king."</p><p class="normal">St. Real signified his assent, and, thus guarded, proceeded onward -towards Meudon, conversing, as he went, with the leaders of the -Huguenot party--for the strangers were followers of the King of -Navarre--and gaining from them some knowledge of the real state and -position of the royal armies. On the side of the two kings he found a -much greater degree of activity and military caution; and, -notwithstanding the presence of the party he had first encountered, he -was not suffered to pass the second outpost without a strict -examination of his letters of safe-conduct, and was afterwards -escorted from post to post by a small body of men-at-arms, until he -had proceeded beyond the quarters of the King of Navarre, and had -fully entered those of Henry III. of France, who had taken up his -abode, by this time, at St. Cloud. Here, again, the discipline seemed -more relaxed; and St. Real was suffered to advance without any further -question, till, at the entrance of the neat little village of St. -Cloud, he perceived a group of persons gathered together round the -door of a house, from which, the moment after, issued forth his cousin -the Count d'Aubin, booted and armed, as if prepared to mount a horse -that was held ready by a groom before the house.</p><p class="normal">"The lost one found!" exclaimed D'Aubin, embracing his cousin as soon -as they met; "the lost one found! Why, St. Real, I had even now my -foot in the stirrup to set out once more for Paris, in search of your -fair person. But how has all this happened? Let me hear all; for you -have had to do with the shrewdest heads in France; and his Highness of -Mayenne, with his fair sisters of Montpensier and Guise, are well -worth studying, if it be but to lay out a map of human cunning, in -order to find our way through its tortuous roads in future."</p><p class="normal">As St. Real returned the warm embrace of his cousin, there were -sensations in his bosom that he had never felt before. It was not that -any feeling of rivalry had diminished his affection for Philip -d'Aubin, even by a feather's weight; but it was that, notwithstanding -every wish to serve his cousin and promote his suit, he had -unintentionally cast in his way a greater obstacle than ever; and, -although conscious of his own virtue and integrity, he felt as if he -had wronged him. With St. Real the predominant feelings were not, as -with the rest of mankind, concealed or distorted with laborious care, -but on the contrary were always the first to find utterance. "Oh! I -will give you all that history hereafter; but I have something of more -importance to communicate." Thus saying, he entered the house with his -cousin, who led the way to some apartments apparently appropriated to -himself, and demanded, laughing, "What now, Huon? what now? You rustic -nobles see things in the capital with magnifying glasses, and think -many matters of deep consequence, which to us, who see them every day, -are, of course, every day affairs."</p><p class="normal">"I trust you may think as lightly of it as you seem to expect," -replied St. Real: "but the matter is this--last night I saw -Mademoiselle de Menancourt."</p><p class="normal">"Ha!" exclaimed D'Aubin, instantly roused to attention; "what of -her--where did you see her?"</p><p class="normal">"I saw her at the Hotel de Guise," replied St. Real; "supped with her -there, and was near her afterwards, at the great entertainment given, -as I suppose, to the partisans of the League."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed!" exclaimed D'Aubin somewhat moodily; "and what saw you then? -Who fluttered round her? Who was favoured in their suit of the great -heiress? To which of his partisans does Mayenne propose to give her -hand? Tell me all you saw!"</p><p class="normal">"I saw much," replied St. Real. "I had an opportunity of speaking with -her alone, and was near her the whole evening; so that----"</p><p class="normal">"Ay! doubtless, doubtless!" replied his cousin; "and were the favoured -knight, beyond a doubt; and, probably, sweet Madame de Montpensier -encouraged your suit, and Mayenne offered you her hand, if you would -join the League----"</p><p class="normal">He paused; and St. Real was silent for a few moments, somewhat -astonished at the accuracy with which his cousin--partly in the random -venturing of passion and ill-humour, partly from a shrewd knowledge of -the actors in the great drama going on at Paris--hit upon the facts as -they had occurred. At length, the Marquis seeing impatience flashing -up in his cousin's eye, replied, "You are right, Philip; such an offer -was made me!"</p><p class="normal">"By the Lord! I thought so!" exclaimed D'Aubin. "On my honour, this is -right merry and good! and fair Eugenie de Menancourt, as timid as a -young fawn, and as gentle as a turtle dove, may do more good service -to the armies of the League than a whole regiment of reitters, or -half-a-dozen hot nobles of Provence! Why, the devil incarnate seize -upon the man! he offered her to me in the morning, if I would join the -League, and to you in the evening on the same conditions; and now, -doubtless, Huon, if you choose to turn your horses' heads back to -Paris, and call in your troops from Senlis, put on a black scarf, and -sign the blessed Union, you may to-morrow have the hand of the sweet -heiress of Maine, and become a distinguished leader of the -hypocritical League. Ha! what say you to violating your cousin's -confidence, and gallantly carrying away his promised bride? On my -honour and soul, it were a worthy commencement, and would rank you -high amongst us libertines of the court and the capital."</p><p class="normal">"You are angry, Philip," replied St. Real, calmly, though somewhat -sorrowfully; "you are angry, Philip, and without cause. Such is not -the commencement that I intend to make, nor has it ever entered into -my thoughts to do so."</p><p class="normal">"But what said Eugenie?" interrupted D'Aubin, fixing his keen eyes -upon him; "what said Eugenie to all this fine arrangement? Doubtless -it pleased her well!"</p><p class="normal">"She said nothing to it," replied St. Real, "because she never heard -it; and, in regard to what you would insinuate of myself, my being -here in order to serve the King in arms, is a sufficient reply, I -should think."</p><p class="normal">"And are you here for that purpose?" demanded D'Aubin, softening his -tone. "Have you positively decided on joining the royal forces?"</p><p class="normal">"Positively," replied St. Real, "if I find nothing here which would -render the King's service perfectly insupportable."</p><p class="normal">"Then get ye gone to the court as fast as possible, Huon," exclaimed -D'Aubin, relapsing into the usual levity of tone which was fashionable -at that time, even in speaking of the most serious subjects; "get thee -gone to the court, and see all the vices and horrors it contains; for, -till you have done so, I shall not know what you consider supportable -or not. Yet, stay, Huon," he added, more generous feelings for a -moment resuming their sway, "I doubt you not, my cousin--I know your -nature, St. Real, too well to doubt you; so let not your determination -be influenced by me. I would trust you as fully with Eugenie in Paris, -as if thousands of miles, or hostile armies, or wide-flowing seas, -separated you from her."</p><p class="normal">"You might!" replied St. Real; "but, in the present case, my purpose -is fixed. With the private vices of Henry III. or the vices of his -court either, I have nothing to do, at least, as far as regards my -public actions; and, if I see no reason to believe that my joining the -League is absolutely necessary for the salvation of my country, my -allegiance to my King is my first public duty, after the service of my -native land. Yet, hear me a word more, in regard to Eugenie----"</p><p class="normal">"Hark, what a noise!" exclaimed D'Aubin, turning towards a window that -looked into the street. "Those dogs of Huguenots are always -quarrelling with us cats of Catholics, and the distance between Meudon -and St. Cloud cannot keep us asunder. Look, Huon, look! they will come -to blows presently! See that fellow in the white scarf, how he is -laying down the law and the Gospel with the bony finger of his right -on the broad hard palm of his left. If he were the renegade, -voluptuous, fiery Luther himself, or the keen, fierce, bloodthirsty -Calvin, he could not argue the matter more eagerly. Now there, I -warrant ye, goes the demonstration of the superiority of the <i>prźche</i> -over the <i>messe</i>--the refutation of transubstantiation, and an utter -condemnation of poor purgatory!"</p><p class="normal">St. Real had followed unwillingly to the window, wondering not a -little--although his own ear had been caught by the turbulent sounds -in the streets--at the light volatility of his cousin, who could so -easily break off a conversation in which he had already shown such -heat, and which St. Real himself felt but too deeply to be one of -painful interest, in order to gaze upon a squabble between some rude -soldiers. The scene which presented itself, however, soon obtained a -stronger hold of his attention: it was evidently, as D'Aubin had -divined, a quarrel between a small party of the Huguenot soldiers, -who, serving under Henry of Navarre, had been quartered in the -neighbouring town of Meudon, and a body of the Catholics, forming part -of the army of Henry III. who seemed not at all disposed to show much -hospitality in the streets of St. Cloud to their allies with the white -scarfs. According to the usual course of such occurrences, two persons -were more distinguished than the rest by vehemence of manner, loudness -of tone, and fierceness of look; but behind the principal speaker on -the part of the Protestants stood another of the same party, gifted -with that dark and ominous look of silent determination which -betokens, in general, a man more disposed to deeds than words. As the -argument was evidently getting higher and higher, and the dispute was -apparently reaching that point where strong blows are brought in -corroboration of vigorous assertions, St. Real proposed to his cousin -to interpose with that authority which their rank conferred, and which -the number of their retainers, who were standing by enjoying the -scene, enabled them to render effectual. D'Aubin agreed to the -propriety of this proceeding; but he still continued to gaze out, more -amused than affected by what he saw, till at length the more quiet -personage, whom we have described as belonging to the Huguenot party, -stretched forth a long arm from behind his more voluble comrade, and -cut short a very vehement and vigorous tirade on the part of the -Catholic soldier, by dealing him a blow on the side of the head that -instantly stretched him on the bosom of his mother earth.</p><p class="normal">Swords and daggers were drawn on all sides in a moment; and St. Real, -waiting for no further question, sprang down the stairs, followed by -his cousin; and, calling upon the attendants to aid him, he interposed -between the contending parties, thrusting his powerful form between -the two principal combatants, and casting them asunder like two -pugnacious curs unwilling to be separated. In the struggle, however, -and ere D'Aubin and the attendants could come to his assistance and -enforce order, St. Real had received a slight cut upon the face, which -speedily stained his collar in blood; and his clothes suffered equally -from dust and dirt, and the profaning fingers of more than one unclean -hand. At length the tumult was appeased; and D'Aubin, after treating -the contending parties to a witty harangue in praise of peace, turned -away with St. Real, saying, "Well, well, Huon, now that you have had -enough of fighting for your morning's meal, get you gone to the King, -or he will be out for the day. He is not at the chateau, but in that -house with the large garden--you can hardly see it as we stand; but, -by the number of people I see gathering in that direction, I should -suppose he was now about to set out. So hasten on, and you will find -me here at your return."</p><p class="normal">"My visit to the King may well wait a few hours," replied St Real; -"and I would fain, Philip, conclude with you a conversation which can -never be renewed between us without pain. I have got much to tell you. -But stay!" he exclaimed suddenly, as his eye fell upon the figure of a -Dominican monk, who was slowly proceeding up the road, and had just -passed the spot where he himself stood in conversation with his -cousin; "but stay! I think I know that friar, and, if so, I must to -the King with all speed!"</p><p class="normal">Thus speaking, and without waiting for any reply, he made a sign to -his attendants to follow, and hurried on, after the Jacobin, on foot. -The monk was proceeding at a calm quiet pace, with his eyes fixed upon -the ground; and St. Real was by his side in a moment. One glance -showed him the dull heavy features of Brother Clement, who had -tenanted the chamber to his own in the convent of the Jacobins; and -the voices and the jugglery he had seen played off upon the wretched -fanatic, as well as the effect which the whole had produced upon the -object of those artifices, instantly came up before St. Real's mind, -and made him hesitate whether he should not question him in regard to -his errand at St. Cloud. The next moment, however, a gentleman, in -whom St. Real could easily recognise a high officer of the law--as, in -those days, every class and profession had its appropriate garb--came -up, followed by some other people carrying papers, and, stopping the -friar, as a person whom he knew, held a brief conversation with him, -and then walked slowly on by his side towards the dwelling of the -King. St. Real, after a moment's consideration, paused, and beckoning -to the dwarf Bartholo, from whose knowledge of Paris and its -inhabitants he had already derived much information, inquired the name -of the personage now walking forward with the monk.</p><p class="normal">"His name is La Guesle," replied the dwarf, drily: "he is the king's -<i>Procureur Général</i>."</p><p class="normal">Such information was sufficient to remove from the mind of St. Real -some part at least of the apprehensions which he had entertained; but, -nevertheless, there was a lingering suspicion that the Jacobin's -intentions were not all righteous, which made him resolve to inform -the king at once of what he had seen in Paris, and put him upon his -guard against the machinations of his most insidious enemies. With -this view, as he saw that the <i>Procureur Général</i> and his companion -were proceeding exactly in the same direction as himself, he hurried -his pace, and passed them. Making his way onward through the various -groups of soldiers, courtiers, and officers, that were scattered -thickly through the streets of their temporary residence, enjoying the -fine sunshine of the early summer morning, he hastened forward towards -the spot to which his cousin had directed him as the abode of the -king, inquiring as he went which was the exact house amongst the many -splendid buildings that St. Cloud then contained.</p><p class="normal">At length the abode of one Hieronimo de Gondi was pointed out to him; -and, entering the court, the walls of which had concealed from his -sight a crowd of guards and attendants at that time constantly waiting -upon the sovereign, he proceeded to the great entrance, and mounted -the steps which led to the first hall. Here his name and business were -instantly demanded, and his reply transmitted through various mouths -to the chambers above. While detained below for the king's answer to -his demand of an audience, he was ushered into a side room, where some -of the superior officers of the court were whiling away their daily -hours of attendance. Some were playing with dice, and some at chess; -but in all there was a fearful effeminacy in dress and demeanour, -which made St. Real shrink from the soft and womanly things with which -he was for the moment brought in contact. He was not destined, -however, to remain long amongst them; for the next moment a page--fair -and soft, and smooth-spoken, with jewels in his ears, and as much -satin and lace upon his slashed doublet of sky-blue silk as would -furnish forth a lady on a court birthday--glided into the room, and -besought the Marquis of St. Real to follow him to the presence of the -king.</p><p class="normal">Ascending the broad flight of steps which led to the principal -apartments above, St. Real first passed through the chamber of the -Gascon guards, the same unscrupulous body which had served the monarch -so remorselessly in the assassination of the ambitious but heroic Duke -of Guise. Their harsh and war-worn features, shaggy beards, and -affectedly rough demeanour, offered a strange contrast to the soft and -silken aspect of the rest of the court: but St. Real was soon -introduced to a new, but not less sickening scene of luxurious -effeminacy. Passing through an ante-chamber, in which lounged a number -of creatures such as he had seen below, he was led into the -audience-room prepared for the king. Faint rose-coloured velvet formed -the hangings of the walls, a number of green silk couches were placed -round the room, and the whole air was so burdened with manifold -perfumes, that St. Real, disgusted with all he beheld, felt actually -sick at the compound odour that assailed him as soon as he entered. A -number of personages stood round, dressed in all the gaudy colours of -the rainbow, and each without the slightest spot or stain to be seen -upon his glossy vestments. In the midst of them all sat a man habited, -like themselves, with all the scrupulous care that folly can waste -upon personal appearance. His hands and his face were as white and as -delicate as the satin lining of his cloak, except where on his cheeks -appeared a faint delicate colour, like the hectic blush of a -consumptive girl, but which, in him, was probably rather the effect of -paint than of disease. He was speaking when St. Real entered: but it -was none of his lords, or minions, as they were then called, who was -so honoured at that moment by the effeminate Henry III. On his lap he -held a beautiful worked basket, lined with faint blue satin, and -containing no less than four small dogs, neither of which exceeded in -size a well-fed miller's rat; and to one of these--his favourite pets -and constant companions--he was addressing some tender reproaches for -the crime of having scrambled over the back of one of the others, in -its unceremonious attempts to escape from the delicate dwelling, which -it would willingly have exchanged for a wooden box, and some clean -hay.</p><p class="normal">St. Real's bold step in the room, the sound of his heavy boot and -jingling spurs, instantly caught the king's attention; and, looking up -from his basket of dogs, he gazed over the person of the young noble, -with a glance first of surprise, and then, apparently, of horror and -disgust. The silken watchers of the king's countenance instantly -caught its expression, and divined the cause.</p><p class="normal">"Good God, sir!" exclaimed one, interposing between St. Real and the -king, as if he feared that the young noble were about to assassinate -the monarch; "good God, sir! is it possible that any one should -present himself before his Majesty in such a plight? Retire, for -Heaven's sake! you had better retire!"</p><p class="normal">St. Real laid his hand upon the attendant's breast to push him back -out of his way; but the minion shrank back from the touch of the same -stout doe-skin glove with which the young Marquis had parted the -contending soldiers in the street, as if a dagger had been at his -bosom.</p><p class="normal">"I would not have intruded upon your Majesty," said St. Real, "in a -garb stained with blood as this is, had I not had something to -communicate which I thought of immediate importance----"</p><p class="normal">"Whatever you have to communicate, sir," interrupted the king, -frowning, "must be told when you have changed your dress: I will hear -nothing at the risk of being suffocated. The blood has nothing to do -with the matter! I have seen more blood, and shed more blood, than you -ever have, or ever will, perhaps; but you bring in with you a -whirlwind of dust, enough to choke up the lungs of any Christian king -upon the face of the earth. Make no reply, sir," he continued, waving -his hand; "make no reply, but leave the room; and when you have -changed your dress, and appear in habiliments more befitting this -place, I will hear what you have to communicate, but not before."</p><p class="normal">"As your Majesty pleases," replied St. Real; "but still, let me warn -you of one thing at least----"</p><p class="normal">"Of nothing!" exclaimed the king. "Why, the very percussion of your -breath shakes the dust from your cloak, till the whole air is dim. -Away with him! away with him! Nevers, Joyeuse, Epernon, rid me of the -sight of him! But gently, gently! Do not shake the dust off him: 'tis -bad enough to be obliged to ride along the high roads, once every day, -without having the high roads brought into our own audience-chamber."</p><p class="normal">There was a determination in the look and demeanour of the young -Marquis of St. Real which augured something in his nature not pleasant -to lay hands upon; and, consequently, the courtiers of the -contemptible monarch took care not to enforce his commands with any -rudeness. Nor was it necessary; for St. Real, finding that any farther -attempt, at that moment, to communicate to the king the apprehensions -he entertained from what he had seen in Paris, would be vain, -retreated from the royal presence without farther question, resolving -immediately to inform his cousin D'Aubin, and beg him to convey the -bare intelligence of danger to the monarch, while he himself changed -his dress, and prepared to give more full and minute information.</p><p class="normal">Rejoining his attendants in the court, and looking eagerly round, as -he quitted the royal residence, in order to ascertain whether the monk -were still in sight, St. Real turned his steps back towards the house -where he had found D'Aubin on his arrival at St. Cloud. It was not, -indeed, that he could feel particularly interested in the fate of the -monarch whom he had just seen, or that he thought the death of such a -degraded being would be, at any other period, much to be regretted in -France; but the young lord, acting upon general principles which -accidental circumstances never greatly modified, felt it his bounden -duty to prevent, if possible, a meditated crime; and, even had it not -been so, would have been extremely desirous of preserving the life of -the reigning sovereign, at a moment when political and religious -factions, personal enmities, and contending interests, convulsed the -realm, and required no new brand of discord to bring down sorrows, -desolation, and ruin, upon the people, the country, and the state.</p><p class="normal">Whichever way St. Real turned his eyes, however, various groups of -persons loitering about, without any apparent object, interrupted his -view ere it could penetrate many yards. Amongst them the figure of the -Jacobin was not to be seen; and, mounting his horse, which had been -led after him, he proceeded as fast as possible to the dwelling in -which his cousin had taken up his quarters.</p><p class="normal">He found D'Aubin surrounded by a large party of the gay nobility of -Paris; and levity and merriment had so completely taken possession of -every one present, that St. Real could obtain no attention for the -serious matter he had to communicate. Even his cousin himself, whom he -knew to be full of strong and fiery passions, and whom he had seen -that very morning moved by no light emotions, appeared now to have -given himself up entirely to the idlest spirit of gaiety; so that the -only effect produced by the tale which the young nobleman had to tell -was loud laughter at the repulse he had met with from the monarch's -presence, and advice to suffer Henry to deal with his friend the friar -as best he might.</p><p class="normal">Somewhat offended, and still more grieved, at his cousin's conduct, -St. Real quitted him, promising to rejoin him in the course of the -day; and, betaking himself to the small rooms, which were the only -ones he could find unoccupied in either of the two <i>auberges</i> that -St. Cloud at that time boasted, he hastily put off his riding-suit, -removed the traces of travel and contention from his person, and then, -dressed more in accordance with the courtly foppery of a great capital -than the simplicity which he had expected to find in a camp, he -returned to the temporary dwelling of the king, bent upon executing -his own right purposes, whoever might laugh or sneer. Henry had by -this time, it would seem, considered the impolicy of alienating so -powerful a subject, at a moment when the throne so much needed -support; and St. Real found a page waiting for him in the vestibule, -charged, on his return, to deliver a sort of half apology for the -treatment he had met with, and to conduct him immediately to the royal -presence.</p><p class="normal">Led through the same rooms, St. Real entered the audience-chamber, -which was still tenanted by the same personages, with the exception of -the king himself, whose voice was heard in a cabinet beyond. The page, -however, instantly proceeded to the door, and throwing it open, -announced St. Real's return.</p><p class="normal">"We will speak with him presently," replied Henry, aloud: but the -sight which met St. Real's eyes through the open door made him once -more cast away all ceremony, notwithstanding his rebuke he had -received in the morning. On the right of the monarch stood La Guesle, -the <i>Procureur Général</i>, while at the king's feet knelt the very -Jacobin friar whom St. Real had seen in conversation with that officer -about half an hour before. The monk seemed in the act of presenting a -letter; but though that action, and his whole demeanour, appeared -perfectly pacific, yet St. Real was convinced, from his previous -knowledge, that the ultimate designs of the Jacobin must be evil; and -striding across the audience-hall with the purpose of interposing, he -had nearly reached the door of the cabinet, when one of the nobles in -attendance stopped him for an instant, attempting to explain to him -that the King would summon him when he thought fit.</p><p class="normal">"Of course, of course!" replied St. Real, "but the King is in danger. -See, see!" And at the same moment the Dominican, as he knelt, lifted -his arm and struck the monarch, what appeared to be merely a blow of -his clenched hand.</p><p class="normal">The King staggered back, however, exclaiming, "He has killed me!" And -drawing from his side the long sharp knife which the Jacobin had left -in the wound, he struck the assassin on the head as he was -endeavouring to rise. Almost at the same time, La Guesle, drawing; his -sword, passed it through the monk's body; and the nobleman, who had so -ill-timedly stopped the advance of St. Real, sprang forward, crying, -"The Monk has killed his Majesty;" and while the murderer was already -falling under the blows of the King and La Guesle, drove his dagger -into his throat and put a period to his existence. The other officers -in attendance rushed into the cabinet in tumult and fury, and with an -indecent excess of rage, cast the dead body of the Jacobin out of the -window into the court.</p><p class="normal">There is no describing the terror, confusion, and despair, into which -the large body of courtiers, interested deeply in the life of their -master, were thrown by the event that had just occurred; but Henry -himself, at that awful moment, recalled all the courage and -self-possession for which he had been distinguished in his early -years, and showed himself far more tranquil and undisturbed than any -of the party.</p><p class="normal">"Send for a surgeon," he said, sitting down and pressing one hand upon -the wound, while with the other he waved back those who were crowding -round him. "La Guesle, you have done wrong to kill the wretch. We -might have learned who were his instigators; but let the room be -cleared. Monsieur de St. Real, I thought to have spoken with you, but -it is impossible now. You said you had something to communicate; but -if I recover, it must be told hereafter; if I die, it must be told to -my successor."</p><p class="normal">"God forbid your Majesty should die at this moment," replied St. Real, -whose intended communication was now rendered useless. "I trust that -your wound will not prove serious."</p><p class="normal">"I trust not," replied the King; "but no one can say what, or how -soon, may be the termination. Although I am inclined to think that the -wound is not dangerous, yet in this body there may be but half an hour -of life. Therefore remember, lords and gentlemen of France here -present, that, should death be the result of this morning's bad work, -Henry of Navarre is your lawful king! From the moment that my lips -cease to breathe he is your king according to every principle of right -and justice: the fundamental laws of the French monarchy make him so, -and no power on earth can absolve you of your duty towards him. I only -raise my voice to point out to my subjects what will be their duty -when I am dead. Remember that this is my last injunction: but here -come the surgeons; and now, once more, I say, let the room be -cleared."</p><p class="normal">The monarch's orders were instantly obeyed, and the cabinet, in which -he had received his wound, was accordingly abandoned by all but the -surgeons and his immediate personal attendants. The whole party, -however, lingered in the audience chamber, and in the ante-room -adjoining, breaking into separate groups, and each speaking low, but -eagerly, on the event that had occurred, and the consequences likely -to ensue. As St. Real was not personally known to any one present, he -was, of course, thrown out of all these small circles, and was -proceeding through the rooms, in order to join his attendants and make -his escape from the bustle, confusion, and tumult which were beginning -to spread rapidly through the royal household, when a stout, -plainly-dressed, middle-aged man, whom he had not particularly noticed -in the crowd, laid his hand upon his arm, saying, "I think I heard -your name mentioned as Monsieur de St. Real."</p><p class="normal">"The same," replied St. Real, bowing. "What are your commands?"</p><p class="normal">"My name is De Sancy," replied the other: "an old acquaintance of your -father's. I would speak a word with you, but not here." Thus saying, -he led St. Real on till they reached the court, where all was in the -same state of confusion which reigned above--the gates closed, and no -one suffered to go out. At the appearance of Monsieur de Sancy, -however, the guards presented arms, and the porter threw open the -<i>grille</i> for him and his companion to pass. A word, on his part, -obtained the same facility for his own immediate followers, and for -those of St. Real; and walking on foot down the road, while their -horses followed, De Sancy spoke briefly to his young companion of what -had occurred.</p><p class="normal">"The king will die," he said. "I see it in his countenance; and France -will be thrown into a state of greater turbulence than ever. There is -but one way to save her, Monsieur de St. Real; and, if you inherit -your father's heart and principles, you will not hesitate to join me -in following it."</p><p class="normal">"May I ask you," demanded St. Real, "what is the way to which you -allude?"</p><p class="normal">"I mean," replied De Sancy, "boldness, decision, preparation, on the -part of the friends of good order. You will see, Monsieur de St. Real, -that as soon as the king is dead, the bonds which keep all these -forces together will be suddenly dissolved. The greater part of the -leaders will think all ties of honesty, loyalty, and patriotism at an -end; and almost all will set themselves up for sale to the highest -bidder, while many will join that party for which they have already a -hankering. I heard, some time ago, that you were expected here, and I -learned that you have a considerable body of troops lying near Senlis. -Now tell me, supposing that the king were dead, in what light would -you look upon Henry, King of Navarre?"</p><p class="normal">"As the legitimate successor to the crown," answered St. Real, "and as -my rightful sovereign!"</p><p class="normal">"Then would you be as well contented to fight against the League under -a Huguenot sovereign," demanded De Sancy, "as under the Catholic -monarch, who has just met with such a fitting reward for his love of -priests and friars?"</p><p class="normal">"A thousand times better," replied St. Real, "if that sovereign be -Henry of Navarre, my father's friend and my own--honest and noble, if -ever man was, and loving his country and his people better than -himself."</p><p class="normal">"If such, then, be your opinions, Monsieur de St. Real," replied De -Sancy, laying his hand familiarly on his shoulder--"if such be your -opinions, without a word more let us mount our horses, and ride over -together to Meudon, to bear to the Bearnois, as they call him, the -first tidings of all that has happened here, and to promise him our -unbought support in case of need. I bring with me nearly three -thousand sturdy Swiss; and you, I hear, near a thousand hardy -Frenchmen. What say you? shall we go?"</p><p class="normal">Great emergencies make short oratory. "With all my heart," replied St. -Real, who, however brief had been the explanation, understood De -Sancy's views and objects as well as if he had spoken a volume; "with -all my heart!" he replied, "and we will ride quick."</p><p class="normal">Their horses were beckoned up; each cavalier sprang into the saddle; -and, after a few words of direction and command to some of their -attendants on either part, they galloped off towards Meudon as fast as -they could go.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVI.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Neither St. Real nor his companion spoke much as they advanced towards -Meudon. The rapid pace at which they proceeded, and the still more -rapid thoughts that were passing in the mind of each, left little room -for conversation. Each, however, seemed so instinctively to appreciate -the character of the other, that the few words which did occasionally -pass between them conveyed far more than much longer communication -might have accomplished between persons whose ideas flowed in a less -direct and straightforward channel. So rapidly did their horses bear -them forward indeed, that but a few minutes elapsed ere they beheld -the pleasant little upland supporting the village in which the witty -but licentious Rabelais poured forth the biting and sarcastic torrent -of satire that, however ill understood by after ages, has rendered his -name immortal; and in which also he exercised all those clerical -functions that were far less adapted to the character of his mind.</p><p class="normal">Coming from the side of St. Cloud, and bearing about his person those -conventional signs which were understood to indicate an officer of the -royalist party, Monsieur de Sancy, accompanied by his young companion, -was permitted to go forward, with scarcely any interruption almost to -the gates of the old chateau in which Henry of Navarre had fixed his -head-quarters. Here, however, they were challenged by the sentinels; -but, giving the word, they passed on, and meeting with an inferior -officer attached to the prince, inquired if he had yet gone forth.</p><p class="normal">"More than an hour," was the reply; "but he may certainly be found -with the advance guard at the <i>Pré aux Clercs</i>."</p><p class="normal">Without farther question, and somewhat mortified at the loss of time, -De Sancy and St. Real turned their horses' heads, and at some risk -galloped down the steep descent; nor pulled a bridle rein till they -reached the large open plain called the <i>Pré aux Clercs</i>, which at -this time offered a singular and not unpicturesque exhibition. From -the spot where the road which they followed entered the plain, the -country lay flat and unvaried to the very suburbs of the city of -Paris, which rose behind, forming a dense back-ground of grey -buildings, towering up one beyond another in the misty light of a -summer's day. The open ground between was not exactly covered with -multitudes, but was living with a hundred groups of gay and glittering -cavaliers; while two strong bodies of infantry, and a squadron of -horse, covered the several roads which led from that part of Paris to -Meudon and St. Cloud. The groups of horsemen of which we have spoken, -armed at all points, and, in general, bearing the old knightly -lance--some decorated with the colours of the League, some displaying -those of the Catholic Royalists, and some carrying the white scarfs -and sword-knots of the Huguenots--were seen, now wheeling about the -plain, endeavouring to gain the vantage ground of a party of -opponents; now standing still, waiting in firm ranks the attack of a -body of the enemy; now hurled in impetuous charge against the foe, and -mingling in brief but desperate struggle; with the armour, and the -pennons, and the scarfs, and the rich caparisons, glancing in and out -of the clouds of dust that covered them. Every now and then, also, -when any of the Leaguers advanced too near, the arquebusiers, who -covered the roads, would keep up upon them a rolling fire from their -levelled pieces; and occasionally some of the batteries erected for -the defence of the suburbs would pour forth flame and thunder upon the -position of the Huguenot infantry, though with but little effect.</p><p class="normal">About a hundred yards in advance of the foot, upon one of the few -slight rises which the plain afforded, appeared a group, consisting of -about twenty horsemen, principally distinguished by the Huguenot -scarf, who took no further part in the skirmishes which were going on -than by every now and then detaching a messenger from their body, -apparently to bear directions or commands to other parts of the field. -At the head of this group, armed at all points except the head, -appeared Henry, King of Navarre, with his fine, but strong-marked -features, full of animation and excitement from the scene before him. -St. Real was the first who remarked his position; and, pointing it out -to Monsieur de Sancy, paused only till they had ordered their -attendants to remain near the body of infantry, and then spurred on -with his companion to the spot where the monarch was watching the -progress of the morning's skirmish--an amusement of which he rarely -deprived his soldiery. Turning round as they came up, he welcomed St. -Real with a look of surprise and satisfaction, and greeted De Sancy -with a smile.</p><p class="normal">"This is unexpected and gladsome, my good young friend," he said, -grasping St. Real's hand. "I heard you were in Paris; and, though your -cousin declared you would certainly visit us ere you decided, yet, -good faith! I thought the cunning of the League would be too much for -you."</p><p class="normal">"It was, I believe, too much for themselves, your Majesty," replied -St. Real; "for I am not only here, but purpose to remain. We have, -however, something of more importance to tell your Majesty, if you -will give us your ear for one moment."</p><p class="normal">"Instantly," replied the king; and then turning to some of those -behind him, he pointed with his leading-staff to one of the groups of -skirmishers, exclaiming, "Some one ride in there, and bring out Rosny! -The lad is mad with sorrow for the loss of his wife. Ventre Saint -Gris! 'Tis a strange thing that what would make one man mad for joy, -should make another man mad for grief! He will get himself killed now, -in order to go to heaven after his wife; while there are many men who -would almost to the other place, to get out of the way of theirs. But -ride in, ride in, and bring him out--tell him I want him! Now, St. -Real! now, Monsieur de Sancy! I am for you!"</p><p class="normal">Thus speaking, he rode on twenty or thirty paces in advance of his -attendants, and looked first to St. Real, and then to De Sancy, as if -requiring them to give him their tidings. The latter then spoke: "We -have to communicate to your Majesty," he said, "an event that has -occurred at St. Cloud, and which may be productive of great and -sorrowful results--which pray God avert!"</p><p class="normal">"Amen!" cried Henry; "but what is it, what is it?"</p><p class="normal">"This, my lord," replied de Sancy. "About an hour ago, while Monsieur -de St. Real and myself were both in the audience-chamber of his -Majesty, the king was wounded severely by a Dominican friar, and I -have many fears that the result will be fatal."</p><p class="normal">Henry made no reply, but gazed upon Monsieur de Sancy's face with a -look of anxiety and horror. "This is ruin indeed!" he exclaimed--"to -be killed at the very moment that our united arms had so nearly seated -him securely on the throne! This is ruin indeed!"</p><p class="normal">"I trust not, your Majesty," replied St. Real. "First, the king is not -yet dead, and may recover; and next, even should he die, you, my lord, -have not only a righteous cause to support you, but a more fair -renown. You would then be as much king of France as he is now, and -many a subject who serves him unwillingly will draw his sword with joy -for you."</p><p class="normal">"At all events, my lord," said De Sancy, "whatever may be the conduct -of others, and whatever may be the result of this most lamentable -affair, your Majesty will find that two at least of the French nobles, -without consulting or considering any other interest but that of their -country, will be ready, should fate place the crown of France upon -your head, to serve your Majesty with their whole heart and soul. I, -for my part, engage at once to bring over the Swiss to your Majesty's -service; and, if I have understood him right, Monsieur de St. Real -here present will immediately move his troops from Senlis to your -support."</p><p class="normal">"Without a moment's hesitation," added St. Real; "and if I have -hitherto even entertained a scruple in regard to joining the royal -forces, that scruple would not exist after your Majesty's accession to -the throne."</p><p class="normal">"Thank you, thank you, my friends!" exclaimed Henry, "this is noble! -This is generous! But still let us hope that the calamity will be -averted, which, by the death of the king, would cast amongst us a -fresh ball of discord, when so many already exist. Still it is -necessary for me to be prepared; but while I speed to St. Cloud, in -order to learn, as far as possible, what is proceeding there, let me -beg you, my friends, to converse over the matter with those you can -trust, and ascertain upon whom I may rely--who are likely to be -doubtful friends, and who will prove open enemies."</p><p class="normal">St. Real and his companion promised obedience; and the king, after -speaking a few moments with some of the gentlemen of his train, turned -his horse's head towards St. Cloud, and galloped off. De Sancy and St. -Real returned more leisurely, conversing over the event that had -occurred, and its probable results.</p><p class="normal">"You, Monsieur de Sancy, and the King of Navarre also, seem to -apprehend much more danger from the death of the king," said St. Real, -"than I can conceive likely to accrue. Far be it from me to speak evil -of a man who, even now, may be dying; yet who can doubt that in -virtues as a man, and in high qualities as a sovereign, the monarch -who has just left us is as superior to him who now reigns in France as -light is to darkness? As a military leader, too, his renown is justly -among the first in Europe; and with the sole command of the army, -which is now divided, the affection of all that is noble and good in -the land, and the warm co-operation of many of those who have held -aloof from the present sovereign, he would surely be able to -accomplish far more towards reducing the land to a state of -tranquillity and subordination, than a king who is not only hated but -despised."</p><p class="normal">De Sancy shook his head, with a somewhat melancholy smile, at -calculations made upon grounds so very different from the motives -which actuated the generality of men in the disorganized land wherein -they lived.</p><p class="normal">"If every one were Monsieur de St. Real," he answered, "if every -one--I do not mean in France, but even in this camp and army--were -actuated by the same pure and patriotic feelings as yourself, your -calculations would be undoubtedly right, and the extinction of the -line of Valois would be the signal for tranquillity and happiness to -resume their place in our distracted land. But the men that we see -around us are divided into many classes, and actuated by many motives. -The Huguenots have among them one principle of action--I mean -religious fanaticism. But, taking all the rest of the united armies, I -suppose there are not ten men of rank amongst us who have any general -principle whatsover."</p><p class="normal">"You give a sad picture of our countrymen, Monsieur de Sancy," replied -St. Real; "but if your view be correct, how happen such discordant -elements to have adhered so long?"</p><p class="normal">"From causes as numerous," replied De Sancy, "as the men themselves. -Some have adhered to the king out of gratitude for favours conferred, -and from a knowledge that their fortune, almost their very existence -itself, depended upon that monarch. Such are the minions, the -favourites, the priests. Others again, of a nobler nature, have -remained attached to the same party equally from gratitude for favours -conferred, but without entertaining any further hopes from, or being -bound by any tie of interest to, the king. Such is the Duke of -Epernon, and several more. Others, again, serve the monarch because -their own dignity and power are connected by various ties to his. Such -are the princes of the blood. An immense number follow him only -because, seeing the country split into factions, and knowing that they -must attach themselves to some party, they judge that they can obtain -most from the court; and, at all events, can sell themselves to the -League hereafter, in case they find their first expectations -disappointed. Many, too, have some individual object in view, which -they may obtain from the king, but could not obtain from the League; -and many serve the monarch from personal hatred to some one in the -opposite camp. Monsieur de St. Real, I could go on for an hour, and -yet leave half the motives unreckoned by which men of different -parties are actuated in every civil strife. All these motives are at -work amongst us; and patriotism, depend upon it, comes in for but a -very small share, when there are so many other greedy passions to -divide with her the hearts of the multitude."</p><p class="normal">St. Real was silent for a few moments, and thoughtful too; for in the -picture of the manifold hues and shades of human baseness thus -presented to his sight, there was something very painful to a mind -accustomed to view the world in a brighter light. After having -considered for a short time, however, letting his mind roam to more -general thoughts, he returned to the immediate matter of their -conversation. "I am sorry to hear," he said, "that such is the -composition of an army from which I had hoped better things. But tell -me, Monsieur de Sancy, will not the same motives which have hitherto -bound them to the present king bind them also to his successor?"</p><p class="normal">"By no means," replied De Sancy. "In the first place, the difference -of religion will be a great objection to many, and an excellent -pretext to more. A thousand to one all the zealous Catholics will -abandon the heretic monarch at once. Those who personally love him -will seek to make him change his religion; those who love him not will -leave him without any question. All who are already doubtful will -seize this favourable opportunity of going over to the League. All who -are serving upon interested motives will demand place, preferment, or -promise, as the price of their future assistance. Of these--and I am -sorry to say that at least one half of the royal camp is composed of -such--of these there will be a general market--a buying and selling, -as in the halls of Paris; and if the king cannot outbid the League, -they will go over together."</p><p class="normal">"Well, let them go," cried St. Real. "By Heaven! Monsieur de Sancy, I -hold that we shall be better without such false and doubtful allies. -Our swords will strike more firmly, our confidence in ourselves and in -each other will be redoubled, when the army is purified from such a -nest of mercenary villains."</p><p class="normal">"Ah! my young friend," replied De Sancy, "you may make a good soldier; -but you are not yet fit for a politician in this bad world of ours. -Call them by some softer name, too, than mercenary villains," he -added, with a laugh; "for, till you see the event, you do not know -whom you may find amongst them."</p><p class="normal">St. Real was silent; for his mind was not without some shade of doubt -as to what would be the conduct of his own cousin in the event of the -king's death breaking asunder all those ties which, for the time, -united the incoherent parts of the royalist army together. However -much St. Real might love the Count d'Aubin, and however much he might -strive to conceal from himself the faults and failings which -disfigured his character, he could not help experiencing a vague -internal conviction that his actions were more the effect of impulse -than of principle, and that there was not sufficient firmness in his -character to restrain him from following where his passions or his -interests led him, if to the path which he thus chose no very signal -disgrace was attached in the eyes of the world.</p><p class="normal">He was silent then, and a few minutes more brought them back to St. -Cloud, which exhibited all the usual marks of a small place in which -some great event has happened. The eager faces; the gliding up and -down of important-looking persons; the whispering groups at every -corner, and at every house-door; the loud-tongued politicians, -demonstrating to their little assemblage of hearers the events that -were to follow, or the events that were past; and here and there the -mercenary soldier, sauntering indifferently through the streets, and -caring not who died, or who survived, provided that his pay was sure, -and that the blessed trade of war was not brought to an untimely end.</p><p class="normal">Monsieur de Sancy and St. Real drew up their horses at the first group -of respectable persons they met with, and demanded news of the king. -The reply was favourable: "the monarch was better," the people said; -"the surgeons apprehended no evil; and the consequences of the crime -had fallen upon the head of him who perpetrated it."</p><p class="normal">After receiving this answer, St. Real and De Sancy separated, each -well pleased with the other, and promising mutually to meet again -before night, whatever might be the result of the events which had -brought them first together.</p><p class="normal">St. Real then directed his course up the road towards the small -<i>auberge</i>, in which he had hired the only apartments that on his first -arrival were to be found vacant in the village, and at which he had -left a part of his attendants to prepare for his return. The door of -the inn, like that of every other house in the place, was surrounded -by its own little group, discussing the events of the time; and as St. -Real approached, he distinguished amongst the crowd his dwarf page -Bartholo, together with the handsome Italian boy, who had been left in -his service by Henry of Navarre. The young marquis--whose mind was not -of that indifferent cast which looks with philosophical coolness upon -the dangers or discomforts of every person except its own particular -proprietor--had been not a little anxious for the fate of the fair -delicate youth amidst the troubles and perils of the capital and its -environs, and was in no slight degree rejoiced to see him in safety in -a spot where he could afford him protection.</p><p class="normal">Leonard de Monte sprang forward as soon as he beheld his lord, and -welcomed him on his arrival, with all that peculiar grace which we -have before had occasion to notice in his demeanour. There was -something in his manner that expressed a willingness to serve and to -obey; but, at the same time, it appeared to be the willingness of a -free and generous mind to perform that which depended solely upon its -own volition. There was a dignity withal in his tone and demeanour, -that made his obedience seem a condescension rather than a duty; and -yet, as we have said, it was all so cheerfully done, that St. Real, -although he felt more as if he were speaking to a friend or a younger -brother, than to one who was bound to obey, nevertheless did not feel -the difference disagreeable, but rather looked with more interest upon -a person whose demeanour was so superior to that of others in his -station.</p><p class="normal">"I have had some fears for you, my good boy," said St. Real, "since I -heard that you had come hither to seek me."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, never fear for me, sir!" replied the youth, speaking with that -confidence in his own fortune, which is one of the many happy deceits -whereby the human heart beguiles itself to forget the weariness, and -the difficulties, and the dangers of the long and perilous path of -life; "oh, never fear for me, sir! In my short day, I have passed -through so many scenes, where others have found every sort of danger -and tribulation, without receiving so much as a scratch of my hand, -that I begin to believe myself enchanted against peril: besides, I had -the two stout fellows you gave me to accompany me from Maine; and if I -had met with any danger, I should have left them to fight it out, and -have slipped away, finding safety under cover of my littleness."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, we must not try your fortune too far, my good Leonard," -replied the young noble. "But come hither with me, Bartholo, seek me -wherewithal to write; and bid Martin and Paul hold themselves ready to -set out in half an hour to Senlis. Have you seen the Count d'Aubin?"</p><p class="normal">"I saw him not half an hour ago," replied Leonard de Monte, ere the -dwarf could answer. "He was riding forth with a gay company to the -<i>Pré aux Clercs</i>."</p><p class="normal">"That is unfortunate!" observed St. Real; "I would fain have spoken -with him. But hark! there is the drum beating to arms, and the -clarions sounding a march! See what that may mean, Leonard."</p><p class="normal">The boy sped away quickly; and during his absence St. Real proceeded -to his own apartments, and wrote to the officer whom he had left in -command of his troops near Senlis, directing him, in as few words as -possible, to advance without loss of time to the distance of half a -march from the royal army. Ere he had concluded, Leonard de Monte -returned, and, in reply to St. Real's eager question of what news, -informed him, that an order had just been given out to put the royal -forces under arms, as it was supposed that those who had instigated -the attempt at assassination, not knowing that it had failed, would -endeavour to take advantage of the confusion they expected to follow -its success amongst the royalists.</p><p class="normal">"A wise precaution!" said St. Real--"a wise precaution, marking that -Henry of Navarre is in the camp, even if one did not know it from -other circumstances. Now, tell me, Leonard," he continued, after -having sealed and despatched his letter, "how long have you been -here?"</p><p class="normal">"I reached Paris some five days since," replied the boy, "and waited -two days there, in hopes of your coming; but, finding that you did not -arrive, I grew anxious, knowing that there are wily men and -unscrupulous of all parties in these places. Then, when you did not -appear the third day, I set off hither to see whether you had been -delayed against your will at the king's quarters; and ever since then -I have been coming and going between the camp and the city of Paris, -till I learned this morning that you were here."</p><p class="normal">"But were you never stopped at the outposts?" demanded St. Real; "your -pass extended only to the capital?"</p><p class="normal">"Oh, no!" replied the boy, in a gay tone; "I passed and repassed as -often as I liked, and will do it again whensoever it pleases me. I -have the secret of making myself invisible; and they must be sharper -eyes than either those of the League or of the Huguenots that will spy -me out to stop me as I go."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed!" said St. Real: "that were a secret worth knowing."</p><p class="normal">"Easy to learn, but not so easy to practise," answered the boy. "I had -first to consider the sentry as I came up to him; then, if I found him -a Huguenot Gascon, to stop a quarter of an hour to listen to all the -great exploits he had performed at Montcontour, Jarnac, or any other -place; then--seeming to believe the whole--to tell him as great a lie -as any that he told me, vowing that I was the truant son of some -Huguenot lord, going back to hear Du Plessis Mornay preach against the -Pope of Rome; and thus might I pass by without farther question. If, -on the contrary, it were a royalist, I vowed I was King Henry's new -page, and talked about Monsieur de Biron, and the good Duke of -Epernon. If it were a Swiss, I boldly said, 'What is your price?' put -the crowns in his hands, and walked on. And when I came back to the -sentinels of the League, I had but to throw this toy over my -shoulders," he continued, drawing a black-and-green scarf from the -bosom of his vest, which, according to the custom of those days, -was made very large and full, and often served the purpose of a -pocket--"I had only to throw this toy over my shoulders, and swear by -the holy mass that I had gone out to kill the king, and would have -done it, too, if I had not, by mischance, trod on the toes of one of -his Polish puppies, and been turned out of the ante-room for that -grave offence."</p><p class="normal">St. Real laughed. "You are a brave boy," he said, "and seem to know -these people thoroughly--perhaps better than I do."</p><p class="normal">"Perhaps I may," replied the youth: "but still, call me not a brave -boy, for I am not; on the contrary, I am as arrant a coward as ever -lived; so, if you intend to take me with you into a pitched battle, or -even a skirmish, or so much as the siege of a town, you are very much -mistaken, for I shall certainly lag behind."</p><p class="normal">"You jest," said St. Real, smiling; "for, though you are too young to -be led into battles, or to sieges either, yet you are one of those -whereof, some day, men may make good soldiers."</p><p class="normal">"Not I," answered the boy, seriously, and with a sigh; "not I, my -lord!--I have a vow against it. Faith, I think that heretic Du Plessis -Mornay has converted even me; and I hold, that for hundreds of honest -men to shed each other's blood, for the sake of making their favourite -sit in a great ivory chair, wear a gilt cap with a tassel, and call -himself king, is not only a folly, but a madness, and not only a -madness, but a crime. Be not offended, my lord," he added, seeing a -slight cloud come over St. Real's brow, as he listened to doctrines -very different from those which his own bold and chivalrous heart -entertained; "be not offended, nor doubt me either; for you may well -rest sure that, should danger threaten you, or misfortune overtake -you, when I am your follower, this heart--though not so bold as a -falcon's--would find courage for the time; this hand--though not so -strong as a giant's--should do its best to defend or aid you."</p><p class="normal">"I believe you in that, at least, my good Leonard," replied St. Real; -"yet, nevertheless, I have always held that life is valueless without -honour, and that the drops of our heart's best blood can never be -weighed against the service of our country, our king, or our friend. -However, you are not my sworn soldier, so I shall not try you; and, to -speak of matters whereon we shall better agree, tell me--for, amongst -all your wanderings, you must have heard--how go men's opinions upon -the events that are taking place here?"</p><p class="normal">"Opinions!" cried the youth. "They go, my lord, as the waves of the -sea. Looked at from a distance, and at first sight, they seem -innumerable, and all distinct one from the other; but when one -examines a little more closely, they are found to be nothing but one -great flow of the same things, following the first that comes forward -and dashes upon the shore. I know not well what the word <i>opinion</i> -used to mean in the days of old, but now, I know it means the portrait -of every man's selfishness, painted as he likes it to appear. One man -has a strong desire to be governor of Dijon, and he represents it -under the form of a sincere admiration of the Catholic faith; another -wishes to be made marechal of France, and he displays his wish under a -full approbation of the murder of the Guises."</p><p class="normal">"It is wonderful," said St. Real, with a smile, "how soon, in the camp -and in the court, the wisdom of the brow of sixty years finds its way -down to the curly head of sixteen! Do you know, Leonard, I have just -heard this morning from Monsieur de Sancy the same fine sarcastic -character of the good folks around me that you have given me now?"</p><p class="normal">"Then you have heard the truth from two people in one day," replied -the boy gravely. "It is worth marking with white chalk! and, though -you think that I ape the sententiousness of wiser persons than myself, -you will find, that one who has lived amongst these scenes from his -earliest years knows the characters that appear in the mystery as well -as one of themselves. At all events, my lord, hope not to find Spartan -virtues even in your dearest friend; or, if he do possess such jewels -as patriotism, and firmness, and integrity, happy--thrice and fully -happy, is he in this place; for nothing is so saleable here as virtue -and a tolerably good reputation."</p><p class="normal">"Spartan virtue in my dearest friend!" said St. Real, repeating the -words on which the youth had laid the strongest emphasis. "What mean -you by that, Leonard? Tell me, are you frank and honest? If so, you -have some meaning! Now, make it a plain one!"</p><p class="normal">The boy coloured a good deal, and, for a moment, seemed struggling -between two emotions; but at length he replied, "I am frank and -honest, sir, and I will make my meaning plain, feeling sure that you -will not let my candour hurt me. When I spoke as I did speak, I -thought of your noble cousin; for it is the common report of camp and -city, that a large dower, and a lady's unwilling hand, will soon -convert the Count d'Aubin from a bold Royalist to a zealous Leaguer."</p><p class="normal">It was now St. Real's turn to feel troubled, and the blood -irrepressibly mounted to his cheek. "I trust that the camp and the -city are both mistaken," he replied, at length; "and that Philip -d'Aubin, if he do change his party, which may, perchance, happen, will -have nobler motives to assign than any selfish advantages. One thing, -however, is certain, no lady's <i>unwilling</i> hand can be the object, for -no man will or can force her inclination."</p><p class="normal">The boy shrugged his shoulders. "These are times, sir," he replied, -"when men can do anything; but, nevertheless----"</p><p class="normal">Ere he could finish his sentence, the door of the little saloon in -which he stood was thrown quickly open; and, as so often occurs, the -very object of the conversation which had just passed appeared, and -put an end to any farther observations. The boy, indeed, coloured -deeply, and glided out of the room; but St. Real, whose consciousness -of upright purpose and integrity of heart had restored his calmness -and confidence in himself, turned to greet his cousin kindly, and -prepared to speak with him upon the great events of the day, avoiding, -as far as possible, those subjects which might renew any painful -feelings between them. "I heard that you had gone to the <i>Prés aux -Clercs</i>," he said, looking at his cousin's dusty garb; "but you are -not armed, I see."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, that matters not!" answered D'Aubin; "it is as well sometimes to -show these gentlemen of the League that, in a velvet pourpoint and -silken hose, we can overthrow their best cavaliers, clothed from head -to heel in good hard iron. I had not time to arm, and therefore ran -two lances in my jerkin, having promised to give a course to Duverne -and Maubeuge. So the king is wounded, they say! You have heard of it, -of course. Should he die now, Huon--should he die, 'twould make a -great difference in men's fates."</p><p class="normal">"I do not see why or how," replied St. Real; and then--not remarking -that his cousin, whose very speech had been rambling and unconnected, -suffered his mind to wander inattentive to what any one else -said--went on to give all his reasons for thinking that the death of -Henry III. should make no earthly change in the conduct of any -honourable man hitherto attached to the royal cause.</p><p class="normal">"Huon!" interrupted D'Aubin, at length, "I have been thinking over -what passed between us this morning, and I have come to crave a boon -of you. Your safe-conduct from Mayenne is not yet near its end; and I -would fain have you make one more journey to Paris. As I said before, -I would trust you with aught on earth, such is my confidence in your -honour; and you have great influence with Eugenie de Menancourt. She -esteems and respects you, which is a very different thing from love, -you know; no woman loves a man that she respects----"</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay, nay, Philip!" said St. Real, somewhat sickened with his -cousin's conduct, and yet pained to remark the evident anxiety and -distress which D'Aubin strove in vain to cover under a tone, half -jest, half earnest. "Nay, nay, Philip! speak not thus of those who -form more than one half of man's happiness or misery--speak not thus -if you would ever win the love of those whose love is worth -possessing."</p><p class="normal">"Pshaw, Huon! you know them not!" replied the Count. "Respect and -esteem may be the foundation of man's love for woman, but not of -woman's love for man. Fear, jealousy, revenge, scorn, even hate -itself, are nearer roads to woman's love than respect and esteem. You -may disappoint her wishes, contradict her opinions, insult her -understanding, pain her heart, ay, even cross her caprices! and yet -win her love, if you will but pique her vanity. But a truce to such -dissertations. Mark me, Huon! I think you love me, and wish me well; -and I tell you sincerely, it imports much and deeply to my peace and -comfort, that Eugenie de Menancourt should yield me a willing -consent."</p><p class="normal">"Not, I trust, from any pecuniary consideration," said St. Real, who -entertained some vague suspicions that his cousin had outstepped even -his princely revenues in the gay and thoughtless course he had pursued -for many a year. "If so, speak at once, Philip, for you know the -extent of my resources; and you likewise know, I trust, that those -resources are your own, when you choose to command them."</p><p class="normal">"No, no, Huon!" replied the Count, while his brow and cheek grew as -red as fire. "No, no! I thank you for your kindness, good cousin; but -there are many causes which make it as necessary to me as life, that -Eugenie de Menancourt should become my wife. Why, think," he -continued, raising his tone, "I should become the talk and the pity of -all Paris!--the laughing-stock of every friend I have!"</p><p class="normal">St. Real bent down his eyes without reply, merely muttering to himself -the word, "Friend!" while his cousin went on. "What I wish then, Huon, -is this, that you would return to Paris, and seeing Eugenie, represent -to her that my claim to her hand in consequence of her father's -promise is indubitable; that I would sooner part with life than resign -that claim; and that, in order to atone for aught I may have done to -offend her, and to remove whatever objections she may have, I will -change my course of living, cast from me those faults that appear so -much blacker in her eyes than in those of our fair dames in the -capital, and live a life as pure and holy as any nun was ever reputed -to do, if she will promise at the end of a certain period to fulfil -her father's engagement towards me. Will you do this for me, Huon, and -exert all your eloquence?"</p><p class="normal">"Philip, it would be in vain," replied St. Real; "last night, I said -all that I could say in your behalf--I promised even more for you than -I well knew that you would perform--on my life, on my honour, Philip, -I urged all that could be urged in your exculpation and in your -favour; but she remained firm; and nothing I could say made any change -in her replies. Your conduct, she said, had produced its natural -effect; that effect was not to be effaced. Her father's promise was -conditional; and, free from any engagement herself, she was resolved, -she said, never to give her hand to one who had not sought her -affection, and did not----"</p><p class="normal">St. Real hesitated, but his cousin finished the sentence boldly for -him. "And did not possess her esteem, or deserve her love, or -something of that kind," he said; "all that she told me before! It is -but the ringing of the same chime! But by Heavens! it shall go hard if -I do not find means to ring that chime backwards! Yet, listen, St. -Real; yesterday, you were not empowered by me to say anything, and -therefore she might doubt. I now empower you on my part to vow -constancy, and promise amendment, and so forth. Will you undertake -it?--will you go?"</p><p class="normal">"No, Philip, no," replied St. Real, in a tone of firm determination, -"I will not; I love Eugenie de Menancourt too well myself, to cheat -her with promises made in so light a tone as that. Nay, frown not on -me, Philip d'Aubin, for you shall hear more, that you may never say -your cousin deceived you. I refuse to go back to Eugenie to plead your -cause, not alone because I believe it to be both a bad and a hopeless -one, but, because I feel that it would be dangerous to my own peace; -and might make me unhappy without serving you."</p><p class="normal">"Ho, ho!" cried D'Aubin, his brow darkening, "is such the case? Then I -see somewhat more clearly how all this may end!"</p><p class="normal">"I trust you do," replied St. Real; "I trust from my conduct through -life, and from my conduct now, that you may plainly see what will be -that conduct still."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin's lip curled into a cold, unpleasant smile; but his brow did -not relax, and he answered, "What your conduct may be, like all future -things, must be left to fate; but I shall certainly take means to -ensure myself against what it seems it might be. I give you good -evening, Huon, for I find it time to bestir myself! Farewell!"</p><p class="normal">So saying, he turned upon his heel, and left the apartment. At the -foot of the stairs he paused for a moment to speak a few eager words -with the dwarf Bartholo, and then springing on his horse galloped back -to his own abode.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Leaving St. Real to meditate over the effects which his candour and -honesty had produced, and to strengthen himself in his integrity -against the bitterness of undeserved suspicion and reproach, we must -follow the Count d'Aubin to his dwelling, and be his companion for the -next few hours. Springing from his charger, he threw the reins to one -of his attendants, ordered fresh horses to be saddled in the stable, a -change of dress to be instantly brought him, and eagerly demanded if -no packet had arrived from Paris. The answer was in the negative; but -still the count proceeded to change his dress, apparelling himself -with no small care and splendour, brushing the dust from his dark -curling locks, and adding the fine essences that were then held a part -even of the simplest toilet. Ere he had done, there was a sharp knock -at the door of his chamber, and the next moment the dwarf Bartholo -stole in, bearing a packet in his hand.</p><p class="normal">"I saw the messenger straying about the town," he said, "and knowing -you would want this, I hastened to bring it hither."</p><p class="normal">"You see into my thoughts, and anticipate my wishes, good Bartholo," -replied D'Aubin, breaking open the packet, and running his eye over -the words of a regular safe-conduct from the Duke of Mayenne. "It is -all right," he added, "though they limit me to four and twenty hours; -but say, have you aught to tell me, Bartholo; for the day wears, and I -am ready to set out. There seems matter in that face of thine. Speak, -man! speak boldly. We know each other well."</p><p class="normal">"Your lordship is kind," replied the dwarf, with one of his sardonic -grins. "I would fain give your lordship a piece of advice; but knowing -from sweet experience how advice is relished in this wise world, I -wish to know whether you have any appetite for it?"</p><p class="normal">"Yes, yes; speak boldly," replied D'Aubin; "I am as hungry for good -advice as a famished wolf, and I am inclined to believe thee, just -now, seeing that the hint you gave me not long since concerning my -simple-seeming cousin has proved but too true. He would act in all -honour as yet, it seems; but we all know with what tiny footsteps love -begins the course, that he determines, ere the end, to stride over -like a giant. Not that I think," he added, giving a glance to the -mirror, and marking there as handsome features as ever that crowning -invention of personal vanity reflected to the self-satisfied eyes of -man--though the countenance he beheld might be somewhat worn with the -strife of passions, it is true--"not that I think that, were it come -to rivalry, I should have to fear the result. But I would fain put it -beyond all chances; so speak your advice, good Bartholo. If it suit -me, I will take it; and if not--why it is but empty air."</p><p class="normal">"Ay, ay," replied the dwarf, "empty air, and dust and ashes! Those few -words are the history of the whole world--man's fame, and wisdom, and -wit, and eloquence, and power, and strength, and beauty--empty air, -and dust and ashes, are the whole!--so that brings me to my tidings, -and to my advice;" he continued, resuming his ordinary tone. "You have -heard of the king's wound, my lord. Now, do not you be one of the -fools who deceive themselves, and think he will recover! Take my word -for it, he will die!"</p><p class="normal">"Nay; but the surgeons say," replied D'Aubin, "that he is already far -better, and give many shrewd reasons to show that he is nearly well."</p><p class="normal">"Let them give what reasons they will," answered the dwarf, "do not -you believe them. Why, my good lord, do you think that your fair -friend, the Duchess of Montpensier, or any of the holy and devout men -of the Catholic union, are such fools in grain as to trust to a simple -bit of smooth innocent iron to do the work of their hatred, while they -have our dearly beloved Rene Armandi at hand, to smear the edge and -the point with some of his blessed contrivances for shortening pain -and making the work sure? No, no! my lord. Not more than two days ago, -I was hanging about the gate of that very Jacobin convent from which -this foul monk came forth, and I saw three people arrive to lay their -heads together with the very reverend and respectable Father Prior, -whose meeting told its own tale, whereof this morning's butchery is -but the comment. First came Armandi the poisoner, next came the -Duchess of Montpensier, and then came Wolfstrom the rogue; so be you -sure, my lord, that the king will die; and this very night make your -bargain so firm that no one will dare to break it. To-night," he -added, his lips curling with more cynical bitterness than ever, -"to-night you may dispose of your assistance and co-operation at what -rate you like; but if you wait till tomorrow, your merchandise will -fall a hundred per cent., for the market will be overstocked."</p><p class="normal">The manner in which the dwarf put his counsels was certainly not the -most agreeable; but D'Aubin was accustomed to his bitterness, and was -willing enough to cull wholesome advice for the direction of his own -plans and purposes from amongst the gall and wormwood wherewith good -Bartholo seldom failed to savour his discourse. "I believe thou art -right, Bartholo," he replied; "and as I am determined sooner to lose -life itself than to be foiled, and made a laughing-stock and held up -to the scorn of all my companions by this fair-faced country-girl, I -must even make the most of my time, and bind Mayenne to his promises -by ties that he cannot shake off. Thanks, then, good Bartholo, for -your advice; I will be back before dawn to-morrow, and will reward you -better than by thanks. In the meantime, keep a wary eye on all that is -going forward here; and, both for ancient love, and for future -advancement, bring me, as often as may be, a hint of other men's -doings. And now, fare thee well--away to thy lord, lest he miss thee. -But hark I there are the horses, and I go."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, he threw on his hat and plume, cast a wrapping cloak -round his shoulders to keep his apparel as much as possible from the -dust; and, springing down the stairs, mounted his horse, which stood -saddled at the door. Bartholo watched him, as making a sign for his -usual train of attendants to follow, he struck his spurs into his -charger's flank, and galloped away at full speed towards Paris. A -grim smile hung upon the dwarf's lips as he saw him depart, and -muttering--"Ay, there he goes! to seek an unwilling bride, and for -pure vanity to marry, neither loving nor beloved: but it matters -not--my end is gained!"--he turned back towards the abode of St. Real.</p><p class="normal">In the mean time, D'Aubin galloped on hastily, giving the word as he -passed any of the posts of the royal army, till at length, having got -beyond the precincts of his own camp, he was challenged by the outmost -sentinel of the League. Occupied with other thoughts, and giving way -to the vehement impatience of his nature, the Count spurred on without -reply; and the man, presenting his matchlock, fired without further -ceremony. The ball whistled past D'Aubin's head; but, merely shaking -his clenched hand at the sentinel, he pursued his rapid way, till at -length he was encountered by a body of Mayenne's horse, who again -challenged him, and obliged him to display his pass. More than once, -ere he was permitted to enter the town, the same ceremony was -observed; and, what between one delay and another, the evening sky -grew deep purple, and then faded into grey, as he rode along, at a -more cautious pace, through the streets of the capital.</p><p class="normal">Directing his course by the shortest way, he passed through many of -the narrow gloomy lanes of the Faubourg, and, crossing one of the -bridges which joined the island in the middle of the Seine to the -shore, he plunged in amongst that dingy accumulation of tall, dark, -small-windowed houses, which lie behind the great cathedral of Notre -Dame. In these streets, at the hour of which we speak, the twilight, -which would have still been seen in the open country, existed not; and -all was darkness, except where, here and there, citizens returning -from their shops to their dwelling-houses, or persons of a higher -class going on some expedition of pleasure or business, were seen -finding their way along, preceded by a lantern or a torch; and also -where, before the hotel of some of the old nobles of the court, who -still lingered in that quarter, were to be seen a few torches fixed in -sockets at the door. It was to none of these more lordly dwellings, -however, that D'Aubin took his way; but, at a door which stood open in -a tall, unlighted, gloomy-looking house; he sprang to the ground, and -after giving his servants directions to take up their temporary abode -in an inn, where he should find them in case of necessity, and some -money wherewithal to provide themselves their evening meal, he entered -the house, followed by his page and one armed attendant, and began -mounting, in utter darkness, the long, steep, narrow stair.</p><p class="normal">At the second story D'Aubin stopped, and by the little light that -found its way from a lamp through a small lattice upon the staircase, -he struck several hard blows with the hilt of his dagger against a -massive unshapely oaken door, which stood on one side of the -landing-place. Immediately after, a sound was heard within, and, the -door opening, the Count was admitted, shading his eyes from the sudden -glare of light, into a small ante-room or vestibule, where, stretched -on benches or settles, were ten or eleven stout attendants, together -with one of those large sort of vehicles which we are accustomed to -call sedan-chairs, wherein the ladies of Paris were very much -accustomed, at that time, to go from house to house, and one of which -we have already described.</p><p class="normal">The person who opened the door was a trim-looking serving-man, dressed -somewhat in the garb of an inferior burgher of the town; and, -conducted by this personage, D'Aubin was led on, leaving his groom -behind him, but followed by the page. The next chamber into which he -was led presented a different aspect, being a small octagon room, with -the ceiling of black oak exquisitely carved, the walls beautifully -painted and gilt, and the furniture as rich and elegant as the art and -taste of that day could produce.</p><p class="normal">Here D'Aubin was met by no less a personage than Armandi the perfumer, -who, bowing low and reverently, welcomed him to his house, and then -led him on through several chambers, each more tastefully decorated -than the other, into one where eastern luxury itself was outdone, and -where Madame de Montpensier was waiting the guest she had invited -there to supper. Strange as it may seem that the highest and noblest -in such a capital as Paris should abandon their own convenient and -splendid dwellings, to make these little parties at the houses of -inferior, and often of very base and dishonourable persons, yet the -custom was not restricted to this period of French history, but even -in the succeeding reigns the monarch himself was frequently known thus -to indulge; and the custom, which was begun probably with political -views, or for the sake of a temporary relaxation from the fetters of -state, was found to be too convenient for a debauched court to be -readily abandoned.</p><p class="normal">"True to your appointment, most noble Count," said the Duchess, in a -light tone. "I augur from your punctuality, that all goes well and -happily with the heretics and tyrants beyond the walls, so that they -can spare the services of so gallant a cavalier as the Count d'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">"The fact is, most beautiful Lady Catherine," replied D'Aubin, whose -plan was already fixed, "that their majesties are waiting till the day -after to-morrow, ere they begin serious operations against the city; -for, first, with that brilliant forgetfulness which characterises -great men, they did not remember till yesterday that fifteen hundred -cannon-balls are hardly enough to begin a regular bombardment; and, -secondly, they wished that my worthy cousin should bring up his troops -on the side of St. Denis, in order to straiten you a little in your -diet, as they are resolved, absolutely, to try whether your stomachs -are not like that of the ostrich, and capable of digesting mere iron -in default of other food. They must therefore wait a day to give time -for casting bullets and marching men."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin spoke with so much of his ordinary levity, that he left Madame -de Montpensier still doubtful whether he spoke in earnest or in -jest--whether he was saying what was really the case, or from some -particular motive was endeavouring to deceive her.</p><p class="normal">"You seem in a mood for revelations to-night," she said. "Thank you -for your warning, Monsieur d'Aubin, we shall be upon our guard; but -whether the two kings will thank you for telling us, remains to be -proved."</p><p class="normal">"I care very little whether they thank me or not," replied D'Aubin; -"besides, what I have said can do you no good, and them no harm, -otherwise I should not have told it. You are here in a net, fair lady; -and you must employ some other means to get yourself free than those -you have hitherto employed, or depend upon it, the fisherman will put -in his hand and take you."</p><p class="normal">"He may find that he has a shark in the net," replied Madame de -Montpensier, "and be glad enough to let it escape ere it devour him."</p><p class="normal">"Well, we shall see," replied D'Aubin--"we shall see. But oh! by the -Lord, I had nearly forgot to compliment your Highness on your exploits -of this morning. Has none of the Dominican come back to you yet?</p><p class="normal">"None of the Dominican!" exclaimed Madame de Montpensier, with evident -astonishment--"none of the Dominican! What do you mean, D'Aubin?"</p><p class="normal">"I simply mean," replied the Count, "that by this time I thought your -Highness might at least have got a leg, or an arm, or a foot, or a -little finger of your martyr, to make a relic of; for it could -scarcely be more than two o'clock when he was torn to pieces by the -four horses. No, it could not be more than two; for as soon as ever he -attempted to stab the king, La Guesle ran his sword through him, and, -almost immediately after, casting him out of the window, they tied him -to the horses' heels, and tore him to pieces, in the little square -down by the end of the bridge."</p><p class="normal">"<i>Attempted</i> to kill the king!" said Madame de Montpensier, but ill -concealing, in her desire to hear more, her previous knowledge of the -act that had been perpetrated--"attempted! Then he <i>did not</i> kill -him."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, no," replied D'Aubin, gaily, and purposely affecting to laugh at -her disappointment. "You do not think Henry is such a fool as to let -himself be killed by a bungling Dominican. You should have sent our -friend in the next room there, Armandi, or some other skilful, -delicate, dexterous personage. Besides, dear lady, when you and -Armandi and good father Bourgoin were consulting together, surely -three such shrewd heads as yours might have fallen upon some better -and more politic plan of getting rid of a bad king than that of -trusting the execution of the act to an ignorant, clumsy, timid friar. -Good faith! I should have thought that you might have even acted -Judith yourself, and have delivered the land of our worthy Holofernes -of St. Cloud with your own hand."</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier turned pale, and red, and pale again; and there -was a quivering of her fine lip, and a flashing of her proud dark eye, -which showed D'Aubin at length that he was urging her too far. As soon -as he perceived it, he dropped the sarcastic irony which he had been -using; and drawing nearer to her, he took her fair, soft, jewelled -hand in his, and raised it to his lips. "Forgive me," he said, "for -teasing you. I love not Henry of Valois more than you do--as you well -know; and though I will not say that I regret your attempt has failed, -yet I do believe that all knowledge of the share you had in it rests -with me alone, and, believe me, my lips are and shall ever be sealed -by this kiss upon this hand--except towards yourself."</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier gazed on him in no small surprise. "You assume -things, sir," she said with some hesitation, "which you have no right -to assume."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay," replied D'Aubin, "say not a word, dear lady. I know the -whole as well as if I had been one of your triumvirate at the Jacobins -the day before yesterday, all the means employed, the vision of the -angel, and all----"</p><p class="normal">"Either some one has betrayed me, or you deal in magic, D'Aubin!" -cried the Duchess.</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin smiled to see her consternation; for although, by combining -the information he had received from St. Real with the hints that had -been given him by the dwarf, and adding thereunto his own knowledge of -the parties, he had been able to form a very correct guess at the -truth--and although he knew the effect which vague hints of greater -knowledge than one possesses, supported by one or two distinct facts, -will produce upon a mind loaded with a heavy secret and apprehensive -of discovery, yet he had hardly calculated upon so completely -deceiving such a shrewd intriguer as Madame de Montpensier, in regard -to the extent of his information. "No one has betrayed you," he -replied; "nor do I deal in magic; but I have far greater means of -knowing things that pass both in the city and in the camp than you -suppose. What I have said just now I said but to tease you; and, -indeed, fair lady, you deserve somewhat worse at my hands."</p><p class="normal">"Wherefore, wherefore? How so?" demanded Madame de Montpensier; "how -have I offended you, D'Aubin?"</p><p class="normal">"Why, I do think," replied D'Aubin, "that considering all the old -friendships which had existed between us, it should not have been you -who attempted to mar my fortunes, and thwart my purposes. Did you not -only last night propose to my cousin St. Real to bestow on him the -hand of my promised bride?"</p><p class="normal">"I did," replied Madame de Montpensier, boldly, recovering in a moment -all her composure--"I did, and I will tell you why I did so, Philip -d'Aubin. I saw, by your conversation of the day before, that you had -irretrievably attached yourself to the party of the tyrant; and I -consider the interests of our cause far before any private interests -or friendships. I am resolved, and so I know also is Mayenne, that the -hand of Mademoiselle de Menancourt shall never be given to any but a -member of the union; and it was therefore that I offered her hand to -your cousin, if he would bring his forces to our side."</p><p class="normal">"Ah! but, lady," replied D'Aubin, "how could you venture on such an -offer, when your own brother, the very morning before, had made the -same to me, and left me a certain time to deliberate and act?"</p><p class="normal">"Nay, of that I know nothing," replied Madame de Montpensier. "Had I -been aware of that, of course I should have acted differently."</p><p class="normal">"But if you and your brother will play at cross purposes," said -D'Aubin, "what surety is there that the promises of either will be -kept? And observe the consequences of this sort of dealing! My cousin -at once determined to join the forces of the king, told me the story, -and thus well-nigh changed all my views and purposes, unsettled my -designs, and nearly determined me to take an oath of perpetual service -to the kings."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay," replied the Duchess, giving him her hand, "but join us at -this moment of our need, and Eugenie shall be yours."</p><p class="normal">"Ay," said D'Aubin; "but I must have some better security than mere -promises."</p><p class="normal">"Surely you do not doubt me," said Madame de Montpensier, "when I most -solemnly declare----"</p><p class="normal">"Declare nothing, dear lady," answered D'Aubin; "I doubt nobody, but -my resolution is taken. The hand of Eugenie de Menancourt must be -promised to me this night, under the hand and seal of his Highness of -Mayenne, as lieutenant-general of the kingdom; or when I return to the -camp to-morrow, I pledge myself, in the most solemn terms, to serve -the Kings of France and Navarre, till there is no such thing as a Holy -League and Union in France. And more, I assure you most solemnly, that -I will instantly send an order unto Maine to cut down remorselessly -every acre of my old forests, in order to raise another regiment for -the service of the state. Now, mark me, lady!--mark me well! In doing -this, I know what I am doing; for, if you cannot obtain this written -promise for me, it will be evident your brother does not intend that -the hand of Eugenie should be mine, and I have no other means to -obtain it, but the capture of Paris and the destruction of the League. -It will be therefore well worth my while to sacrifice everything to -swell the ranks of the royal forces, in order to insure success."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, say no more, say no more," replied Madame de Montpensier; -"the promise you shall have, if I have any influence with Mayenne; and -besides, you say he voluntarily made it himself, and therefore he will -not hesitate to write it. But tell me what are the terms in which this -promise is to be couched--you mean him to promise you her hand, if she -herself consents?"</p><p class="normal">"No, no," replied D'Aubin; "I will leave no hold for after tampering -and intrigue by any party. But," seeing a cloud come over the brow of -Madame de Montpensier at his intemperate words, "I mean not any -offence to you, dear lady. Others may tamper--there are others may -intrigue, and may delay her consent and our union so long that my -views in favour of the League itself may be overthrown. The moment -that the hand of Eugenie is mine, I will raise for the service of the -Duke all the retainers of the house of Menancourt who are now either -lying idle, or swelling the ranks of the royalists. What I demand then -is, that your brother--acting as lieutenant-general of the kingdom, as -well as calling himself so, and consequently considering himself as -the lawful guardian of all wards of the crown--shall promise me, -without other condition than that in three days I subscribe the Union -and join my forces to his, the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt, which -was promised to me by her own father."</p><p class="normal">Madame de Montpensier mused for a moment; and then rising, she -replied, "It shall be done, D'Aubin; it shall be done. The -world--which Mayenne fears more than he will acknowledge--can say -nothing against this act, for it is but a ratification of her father's -promise by him who now stands in her father's place. Here," she cried -aloud, ringing a small silver bell that stood on the table before her, -and which was instantly answered by the appearance of Armandi, "bring -me ink and paper, René. You shall write down the promise as you would -have it, D'Aubin, and I will get my brother to sign it before you go; -but make haste, for every moment I expect Wolfstrom to make our third -at supper."</p><p class="normal">"I, too, must be speedy," replied D'Aubin; "for I must be back in the -camp long before dawn, lest there be any tampering with my troops. -They are all fresh, and new-arrived, so that I can do with them what I -will at present; but there is many a shrewd head both amongst the -Huguenots and royalists, and, not being too sure of my attachment, -they may think to make sure of my soldiers."</p><p class="normal">With his swift and gliding step Armandi soon re-appeared, bearing the -writing materials which had been demanded, and D'Aubin proceeded to -put down the brief promise which he required from Mayenne; but -scarcely had he finished, when the leader of the reitters made -his appearance, and seemed somewhat surprised at the grave and -business-like faces by which he was received.</p><p class="normal">"What is the hour, sir Albert?" demanded Madame de Montpensier. "Has -it yet struck nine?"</p><p class="normal">"The light, or rather the darkness, says that it is nearer ten," -replied the German; "and I heard the nine o'clock bell near an hour -ago."</p><p class="normal">"Then I shall not find Mayenne till eleven," replied the Duchess. "His -clock-work habits have, at all events, the advantage of letting one -know when and where he is to be met with. Come, Armandi, is the table -ready? We may as well fill the moments with something more real than -poor thought."</p><p class="normal">In a moment Armandi re-appeared, and with soft and courtly words -informed the Duchess that the best refreshments which his poor house -and inferior artists could prepare waited her gracious presence. -Catherine of Guise and her two companions followed where he led; and, -proceeding into another small cabinet, they found a table covered with -what might well have merited the name of <i>cates divine</i>, if ever -anything can be so called which is destined to pamper the most animal -propensity of our nature.</p><p class="normal">Placing himself beside the Duchess's chair--while his own lacqueys and -the pages of the guests served and carved the dishes, and poured out -the wine--Armandi, in his low, sweet tone, mingled in the -conversation, descanted upon the merits of the various kinds of food, -and read one of those lectures upon the mysterious art of cookery -which persons addicted to the pleasures of the table are always well -pleased to hear during their meals--stimulating their appetite for the -good things before them, by exciting their <i>eating imagination</i> with -pictures of unseen delicacies.</p><p class="normal">The exquisite fare, however, which was placed before them, the choice -and delicious wines that flowed amongst them like water, and even the -culinary eloquence of Armandi, did not seem capable of rousing either -Madame de Montpensier or D'Aubin from the thoughtful seriousness into -which their preceding conversation had thrown them. Albert of -Wolfstrom, indeed, ate and drank, and enjoyed to the uttermost, and -showed his white teeth in many a grin at the thoughts of all the rare -ragouts and savoury sauces which the perfumer described; but his -companions were grave and abstinent, and when the dessert was placed -upon the table the Duchess rose.</p><p class="normal">"I leave you, gentlemen," she said, "for half an hour, trusting you -can amuse yourselves, at least for that time, without a woman's -presence. D'Aubin," she added, turning to the Count, and marking a -certain degree of stern anxiety upon his brow--"D'Aubin, it shall be -done!"</p><p class="normal">Thus saying she quitted them; and Wolfstrom looked to D'Aubin with -inquiring eyes, as if for information regarding what was passing. But -D'Aubin's countenance replied nothing; and the German, filling high a -glass with sparkling Burgundy, exclaimed, "Come, come, Count, think no -more of your mysteries with the lovely Duchess! Let us have the dice, -and pass her half hour's absence pleasantly."</p><p class="normal">"With all my heart," replied D'Aubin; and there shot through his own -bosom one of those strange dreams of superstition which are felt even -in the present time, but which were much more common then. "I have -cast my last great stake already," he thought; "but the dice will soon -show me whether fortune favours me to-night or not!"</p><p class="normal">The dice were brought, a small table placed beside them, and Wolfstrom -and D'Aubin shook the accursed boxes, and cast throw after throw. -Fortune, however, <i>did</i> favour D'Aubin: he won invariably; and though -the sums for which they played at that time were too small to make the -gain or loss a matter of any consequence, yet the fancy which had -taken possession of him made him rejoice more at the winning of a few -hundred crowns than if he had acquired a fortune. His lip smiled, his -eye sparkled, his cheek glowed; and though the time of Madame de -Montpensier's absence was nearly double that which she had -anticipated, D'Aubin found it not tedious, even under expectation.</p><p class="normal">At length she returned; and, without a word, laid down a paper on the -table before the Count. D'Aubin ran his eye over the promise he had -himself drawn up; and there assuredly, at the bottom of the page, -stood Mayenne's name in his own handwriting, together with the broad -seal of his arms.</p><p class="normal">What arguments she had used, what reasons she had assigned, what -motives she had called into action, to obtain that signature, the -Duchess did not tell, but gazed for a moment with a look of triumph -upon the Count; and then, as her eye caught the dice upon the -table, she turned with an air of gay indifference to Wolfstrom, -demanding--"Well, sir Albert! have you won the Royalist's gold!"</p><p class="normal">"Good faith, no!" cried the German, throwing the dice into a water-jar -of rock-crystal that stood upon the supper-table; "those little demons -have played me false, and he has won six hundred of as good crowns of -the League as ever were squeezed from a heretic Huguenot."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well!" replied Madame de Montpensier, "if the dice forsake you, -turn again to the wine, Sir Albert; there is a resource for you in all -time of trouble. Fill me yon Venice glass too; and you, D'Aubin, give -me that sweet manchet--for, to tell the truth, the thoughts of this -encounter I was about to undergo in your behalf, sir Count, kept me -from supper."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin gracefully spoke his thanks, taking care, however, to veil, in -the circumlocutory ornaments employed in that day, all direct allusion -to the nature of the service for which he expressed his gratitude. The -conversation became gay and animated for half an hour; roamed to a -thousand indifferent subjects, touching each with a momentary -light--like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds of a windy autumn -day, and skipping from point to point in the landscape as the vapours -are hurried on before the gale--and then, drooping for a moment, -paused as if to breathe the wits of the gay little coterie. Madame de -Montpensier took advantage of that minute to rise and depart; and -D'Aubin, bidding his male companion "Good night," proceeded to call -together his attendants and return to the camp.</p><p class="normal">A more strict watch was kept in the night than in the day; and, what -between one halt and another, the dawn was beginning to purple the -eastern verge of the sky, when the Count arrived at the spot where his -troops were quartered. As he was dismounting from his horse, however, -some one whispered a word in his ear; and, springing again at once -into the saddle, he turned his horse's head, and galloped on to his -lodgings at St. Cloud.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XVIII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">While such was the conduct of the Count d'Aubin, St. Real, whom he had -left hurt, agitated, and gloomy, continued to pace his little chamber, -giving way to many a melancholy thought. The more he yielded to -reflection, the more he examined the state of his own heart, the more -deeply and bitterly he felt that the deceit he had practised upon -himself did not date from a late period, but had been of long -existence. He remembered the pleasure he had felt in the society of -Eugenie de Menancourt from his earliest days, in the sweet -reciprocation of simple and innocent feelings, in the mutual -communication of thoughts and sensations peculiar to the retired state -of life in which they then passed their days. He remembered how much -pain he had felt when her father, taking part in the troubles of the -time, had removed for a short period from his neighbourhood; and he -remembered how gladly he had heard that the hand of Eugenie de -Menancourt had been promised to his cousin the young Count d'Aubin, -inasmuch as that engagement was destined to bring her back to the -vicinity of his father's chateau. He had calculated, simply enough, -upon always regarding her as a beloved sister; and as he never for a -moment having dreamed of any other feeling towards her during his -early days, the idea certainly never presented itself after he was -informed of an arrangement which he was taught to look upon as a -positive engagement towards his cousin. When she did return to Maine, -he greeted her with what he fancied brotherly affection; and though -when he beheld his cousin apparently neglecting her, to pay devoted -attention to the gay and sparkling beauties of the royal court, he -felt a degree of anger and indignation on Eugenie's account, which -made him devote himself entirely to her, he would have considered -those feelings--had he thought of the matter in such a light at -all--as the surest proofs that his inmost sensations towards Eugenie -de Menancourt were merely those of a relation, inasmuch as, instead of -feeling jealous of the attentions his cousin paid her, he was angry -that those attentions were not more. Now, however, he knew the -whole--he saw that the love he had felt had been early conceived, and -secretly nourished; and the insight that he gained into his own -feelings showed him that those feelings could never change, but would -last in all their intensity to cause his misery through life.</p><p class="normal">While these thoughts passed in his mind, the time flew quickly by; and -the meal which his principal attendants took care should be placed -before him, was served and taken away almost untouched. Shortly -afterwards, Monsieur de Sancy visited him; and St. Real, whose mind -was not one to yield where it could resist, endeavoured to enter -vigorously into everything that could distract his attention from -himself, spoke again and again of all the probable consequences of the -events that were occurring, and endeavoured to gain a clear and -distinct knowledge of the characters, purposes, and power of the -various nobles forming the royalist party.</p><p class="normal">For the time the attempt succeeded, and his mind found some relief -from the memory of personal sorrows; but the moment that Monsieur de -Sancy left him, his thoughts returned to himself as bitterly as ever. -As evening fell, he fancied that music might soothe his mind or -distract his attention; and sending for his page, Leonard de Monte, he -asked, "Did you not once tell me, Leonard, that you could sing, and -play upon the lute? I am somewhat sad just now, my boy, and would fain -hear a little music to while away unpleasant ideas."</p><p class="normal">The boy smiled with a peculiar expression, and replied. "Music!--I -will sing, if you like--that is to say, if I can find a lute; but -music which will soothe care, and refresh the mind fatigued of -business, calm the turbulent thoughts of ambition, or soften the -feverish pangs of sickness, is no antidote against sorrow, and is, -they say 'the food of love.'"</p><p class="normal">"Well, well," replied St. Real, "let me hear your instrument and your -voice; I must have amusement of some kind, for this night wears -heavily."</p><p class="normal">"I have not my own lute here," replied the boy, "but the dwarf will -soon find one, I warrant;" and, going out, he returned in a few -moments followed by Bartholo, carrying one of those guitars with -eleven strings which were the principal musical instruments then in -vogue. The boy struck his hand across the chords, and then pushed it -from him to the dwarf, exclaiming angrily, "Take it from me, and tune -it. Why give me a thing all discord, like that?"</p><p class="normal">"May it please you," replied the dwarf, with a look of humble -deference, which did not escape St. Real's eyes, and which he had -never seen assumed towards himself, "I did not know that it had been -out of tune, or I should not have failed----"</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, take it away," replied the boy; and, remaining seated on -the spot where he had placed himself to sing, he leaned with his elbow -on the arm of the chair, and his head upon his hand, and the dark -shining locks of his black hair falling in linked curls over his clear -beautiful brow and small graceful fingers. He seemed to be thinking -over the song he was about to sing. At least, so St. Real read his -attitude. But the tone in which the youth had spoken to the dwarf, and -that in which the dwarf replied, had struck and surprised their common -master, and he was about to disturb the page's reverie, by making some -inquiries in regard to his previous history, when Bartholo again -returned with the lute. The boy took it, and running his fingers -through the strings, scarcely seeming to know what note he struck, -produced, nevertheless, a wild plaintive wandering melody, which -nothing but the most exquisite skill and knowledge of the instrument -could have brought forth.</p><p class="normal">"There are few songs," he said, looking up in St. Real's face, "that -are good to soothe sorrow; but I will sing you one of the battle-songs -of my own unhappy land, in which liberty begat anarchy, and anarchy -strife, and strife weakness, till foreign tyrants made a prey of -nations who knew not that military and political power are the -children of internal union and civil order--a land which, from sea to -sea, has been one vast battle-field for ages past."</p><p class="normal">He paused, and seemed to give a moment of sad thought to the sorrows -of his native country; then suddenly dashing his hand over the chords, -he made them ring with a loud and peculiar air, so marked and measured -that one could almost fancy one heard the regular footfalls of -marching men, mingled with the sounding of the trumpet, and the -beating of the drum. Then joining his clear melodious voice, he sung -of the dreams of glory and of patriotism wherewith the soldier on his -way warms his heart to battle, and conceals from his own eyes the dark -and bloody nature of the deed itself. Then again the chords of the -instrument, with a quicker movement, and more discordant sounds, -imitated the clang and clash of charging hosts; and the deep and -frequent tones of the bass might be supposed to express the roar of -the artillery, while still between came the notes of the clarion, and -sounds that resembled the distant beating of the drum. At the same -time the voice of the youth, in few but striking words, and, as it -were, with brief snatches of song, called up the images more forcibly, -and aided imagination in supplying all that the scope of the lute -could not afford. Gradually, however, as he sung, the louder sounds -were omitted; the imitation of the trumpet changed from the notes of -the charge to those of the retreat; the strings seemed to rustle under -his touch, as if from the hasty rush of flying multitudes; and then, -with a sudden change of time, the music altered to a sweet and -plaintive strain of wailing, while his voice took up the song of -mourning for the dead.</p><p class="normal">Till that moment St. Real had no idea of all that music can produce. -He had heard sweet songs, and what were then considered fine -compositions; but this was something totally different; this was a -painting addressed not to the eye, but to the ear; and that not with -words which with laborious minuteness, describe insignificant parts, -without conveying effectually grand impressions; but with sounds -which, rousing fancy's greatest powers at once, called up all the -splendid pageantry of imagination to complete for the mind's eye the -grand pictures that those tones suggested. The boy, too, as he sung, -looked like one inspired; his eyes flashed and glittered; his voice -rose and fell with every touch of feeling which his song expressed; -and his hand seemed now playing amidst the strings, as if in childish -sport; now sweeping them with all the fire and power of some mighty -master of song; but ever with such perfect ease and grace, that it -seemed a gift rather than an accomplishment. When his voice had -ceased, St. Real sat rapt for one moment by all the feelings which the -music had inspired; and then, gazing upon the youth, he said, "You are -an extraordinary boy, and I must one day have your history, Leonard."</p><p class="normal">The youth shook his head; but then after a short pause added, -abruptly, "Perhaps you may, perhaps you may--but now while the lute is -in tune, I will sing you another song--a song about love;" and without -waiting for reply, he struck the chords, and began, with a measure and -a tone so different, as for a time to seem almost tame and -insignificant, when compared with the wild and thrilling energy of the -former music. But as he went on, there was a touching and melancholy -pathos in the words and in the air which went direct to St. Real's -heart, rousing feelings which he would fain have lulled to sleep, and -overwhelming him with deeper melancholy than ever. So sad, so -sorrowful did it make him,--so completely did it master him and take -possession of his imagination, that he could have given way even to -tears, if there had been no eye to see him so unmanned.</p><p class="normal">The boy was still going on; but St. Real waved his hand, exclaiming, -"Hush, hush! no more! It is too much for me!"</p><p class="normal">The boy looked up with a smile, saying,</p><pre> - - "He that will not find - Ease when he may, - Leaves all joy behind - For ever and a day. - - "Yet let him wither - His own hopes at will, - So that no other - Blossoms he kill." - -</pre><p class="normal">St. Real started, somewhat surprised. "You seem to know," he said, -"more of me and mine than I fancied. I must hear what you do know, -Leonard, and how you know it, before you quit me."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay, my good lord," replied the boy, still smiling, "look not so -suspicious. Does it need a very shrewd guess to discover, or to fancy, -when a gallant cavalier, like yourself, falls into sadness suddenly, -as if he had caught some infectious disease, and then looks more dark -and gloomy still, when one sings a simple song to him about love, and -beautiful eyes--does it need a very shrewd guess to fancy that after -all, that same passion of love is at the bottom of the mystery?"</p><p class="normal">"But you spoke but now," replied St. Real, "as if you knew more than -that, and made allusions that you could not have made unless you had -known more."</p><p class="normal">"Faith then, my lord," replied the boy, "the man who compounded the -old proverb I repeated, must have had a mighty skill in divination, to -see what was likely to go on in your lordship's heart some hundred -years after he himself had lived, and that it would serve a page at -his need instead of a better answer--but yet the proverb is a good -one," he continued, rambling on. "Good faith! I hold that no man has a -right to make a woman love him, and then leave her for any whimsy -whatsoever. I do not know much about these things, it is true, but I -think that it is dishonourable."</p><p class="normal">"But suppose," replied St. Real, "that honour has some other claim -upon him which calls him in a different way--what should he do then?"</p><p class="normal">"Why, methinks he should become an apothecary!" replied the boy; and -then added, seeing St. Real's brow slightly contract, "what I mean is, -my lord, that he should take the very nicest scales that conscience -can supply to weigh out medicines for hurt honour, if he have got -himself into such a scrape that honour must be injured either way. Or -he may do the matter differently, and weigh in those nice scales which -is the heaviest sin,--to break a lady's heart; to leave her unhappy -and cheerless through the long days of life; to doom her to wed one -that she does not love, or perhaps hates; to have her reproaches and -her sorrow to answer for at his dying day; or, on the other hand, to -violate what he may think a claim upon his honour, which very likely -priests and prelates, and saints and martyrs, and his own heart too, -in the calm after-day of life, may tell him was no claim at all."</p><p class="normal">"And do you tell me that you speak thus from mere guess?" demanded St. -Real. "No, no, my boy! You have some other knowledge; and you must -give me an answer how it was obtained."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed, my lord," answered the youth, starting up and laughing "I am -tired, sleepy, and thirsty, with looking for you all the morning, and -singing you two songs at night. So, by your leave, I will e'en go to -bed and sleep; and I dare say before to-morrow morning I shall be able -to make an answer, for I have not one ready made; and even if my wit -should run low, I will away by cock-crow to the nearest <i>fripier</i>, and -buy me an answer second-hand. One often finds one as good as new that -has served twenty people before;" and seeing St. Real about to speak -again with a serious brow, he ended with a gay laugh, and darted out -of the room.</p><p class="normal">A momentary feeling of anger passed through St. Real's breast, and he -half rose in his chair, determined to call the boy back and make him -explain distinctly what was the meaning of the allusions he had made, -how he had obtained his information, and to what length it extended. -Brief reflection, however, caused him to pause and change his purpose; -thinking that it would be better to take time to regulate his own -thoughts, and command his own feelings, ere he questioned his page -upon subjects so likely to awaken and expose deep emotions in himself. -Casting himself back into his seat again, he revolved all that had -just passed; and his mind, reverting to everything that was painful -and distressing in his situation, fell into one of those sad and -melancholy dreams which must have visited almost every one at some -time of life, when the bright and brilliant prospects of youth are -suddenly obscured by the dark and lowering clouds which precede the -first storms of life.</p><p class="normal">However painful may be this mode of mind,--however desirous we may be -of escaping from it,--however sensibly we may feel that the only -relief we can hope is to be found in activity, occupation, and -resistance; yet there is a benumbing influence in that peculiar state -of grief and disappointment, which, like the fabled fascination of the -serpent in regard to the birds it seeks to devour, prevents us from -employing the only means of delivering ourselves. St. Real knew as -well as any one, that the occupation of his thoughts upon other -subjects was the only relief he could hope for; but still he lingered -on from hour to hour, no sooner attempting to turn his mind to other -things, than falling back again into the same desponding memories of -all that he cast away when he resigned the hope of ever seeing Eugenie -de Menancourt again. Ere he was aware of it--for deep grief, like -intense happiness, "takes no note of time"--the grey daylight of the -early summer dawn began to pour through the open window. All had been -long quiet in the town, the inns and cabarets had long been closed, -and not a sound had for some time stirred in the <i>auberge</i> where he -had taken up his quarters. But at length his reverie was broken by the -distant sound of horses' feet; and, rising from his seat, he almost -mechanically proceeded to the window, and gazed out up and down the -road. At first no one was visible, except a small group of guards at -the gates of the Maison de Gondi, in which King Henry III. had fixed -hie abode, and though they were apparently speaking together, the -tones they used were so low that not even the murmur of their voices -reached St. Real's ear through the still, calm silence of the early -morning. The next moment, however, the sound of coming horse became -suddenly more distinct, as, turning the corner of the road from -Meudon, a party of five cavaliers galloped into the village. St. Real -fixed his eyes upon them as they advanced, and instantly recognised in -their leader Henry of Navarre.</p><p class="normal">The guards at the gate of the Maison de Gondi seemed, from the bustle -created amongst them, not only to see the party, but to recognise the -cousin of their monarch. The tidings of his arrival appeared to be -passed on into the court; and the moment after, the soldiers and -officers of the Scottish guard came pouring forth without any symptoms -of their usual discipline and orderly demeanour. The King of Navarre -perceived their approach; and nearly opposite to the window at which -St. Real stood drew up his horse, which hitherto had proceeded at full -gallop. Several of the officers of the guard instantly rushed forward, -and cast themselves upon one knee at the stirrup of the monarch, -exclaiming, "Oh, sire! you are our king and our master!" and, at the -same moment, one or two voices from the crowd pronounced, for the -first time, the often repeated words, "Vive Henry Quatre!"</p><p class="normal">The king sprang to the ground, affected even to tears, exclaiming in a -tone of unfeigned regret, "Alas, alas! is he then really dead?" -Walking rapidly forward, he proceeded towards the royal headquarters, -and entered the Maison de Gondi; and the news of Henry III.'s death -proceeded rapidly through the town. Every house began soon to pour -forth its inhabitants; and ere the sun was well risen, all was bustle, -and agitation, and confusion.</p><p class="normal">Although a feeling of reverence for that fearful thing, death, and the -awe which an event of such magnitude might well inspire, repressed -much of the noise which otherwise would have been heard: and though -the eager consultations and busy rumours were carried on in no louder -tone than a whisper, still it was evident, from every symptom -displayed by the multitudes which now thronged the streets of St. -Cloud, that the ties which linked society together were broken, that -the foundations were shaken, and that not only the fabric of the royal -army, but even of the French monarchy itself, was wavering as if to -fall.</p><p class="normal">After gazing out for a few minutes upon the scene below, with the -feelings of a mere spectator, St. Real remembered that he himself had -a part to act; and as the <i>auberge</i>, in common with all the other -houses of the town, was by this time roused, he called for his -attendants, and despatched a messenger to his cousin, intimating his -wish to speak with him immediately. Then casting on his cloak, he went -forth into the street; and entering into conversation with some of the -inferior officers of the troops, he tried to gain some insight into -the various feelings and motives by which the lower ranks of the royal -army were actuated; and, wherever he found it possible, endeavoured to -give a bias to the wavering and undetermined in favour of that conduct -which could alone save the monarchy and the country.</p><p class="normal">To every one whom he addressed St. Real was a stranger; and though his -dress was such as became his station, yet his rank and character being -unknown, it was not at all improbable that he would have met with -insolence, if not violence, had there not been in his whole demeanour -that mingling of frankness and dignity, of sincerity and of grace, -which went far, not only to win and to persuade, but to command -attention and respect. While he was thus engaged, the attendant whom -he had despatched to his cousin returned, and informed him that the -Count d'Aubin had gone up to the royal quarters; and, almost at the -same moment, a hand was laid upon his arm, and turning round, he -beheld Monsieur de Sancy.</p><p class="normal">"A moment's conversation with you, Monsieur de St. Real," he said, -leading the way towards the <i>auberge</i>. St. Real instantly followed, -and on entering, conducted the old officer to his own apartments.</p><p class="normal">"Is your mind the same as when last I saw you?" demanded De Sancy, as -soon as the door was shut.</p><p class="normal">"Undoubtedly," replied St. Real; "you cannot suppose I would change."</p><p class="normal">"One can never tell," replied De Sancy, smiling; "you will find this -morning that more than fifty have changed since the same hour last -night; and, to speak plainly, Monsieur de St. Real, your own cousin -amongst the number. However, let us ourselves lose no time. The -leaders are flocking up to the quarters of the late king, and many, I -fear, will be the differences we shall find. Nevertheless, I hope that -we shall still be able to make up a good party on our side, and -perhaps we may shame a great many more to join us by taking a bold -position ourselves, and letting the others see that they are not only -contemptible, but weak. Will you come, for every moment is of -consequence?"</p><p class="normal">"Instantly!" replied St. Real. "D'Aubin is there already."</p><p class="normal">"Then there will be mischief going on," said De Sancy; "for I have -very sure information that your cousin has decidedly chosen his part. -I do not fear to say to you, Monsieur de St. Real, that he is wrong, -and that he knows it; and when such is the case, it is natural that a -man should endeavour to persuade as many others to act in the same way -as possible, in order that, at all events, he may shelter his own -conduct from the odium of singularity."</p><p class="normal">"Very often, too," replied St. Real, as they walked on, "when a man is -determined upon a thing, and does not clearly know whether he is right -or wrong, he strives to satisfy himself that he is right, by bringing -over as many more to his own side as possible. This I believe to be -D'Aubin's case; for his opinions on any points are never very fixed, -and many is the time that I have heard him defend both sides of a -question with equal skill."</p><p class="normal">"Vanity, vanity, all that!" replied De Sancy, "and a most unhappy -vanity too; for it has cheated many a man out of his honour and -integrity, out of his own self-respect, out of the world's esteem--ay, -and even out of his hopes of heaven. But at all events, as apostates, -whether religious or political, are the most vehement against the -creeds they abandon, so we may feel sure that Monsieur d'Aubin, and -all those who have cast off their loyalty, will have many a furious -argument in store against the cause which they are quitting. Let us be -prepared then to assert in words, as well as deeds, the ancient -loyalty of the French nobility."</p><p class="normal">"Of course, to the best of our abilities," said St. Real; "but my -voice can have small weight. Who is that going in?" he added, just as -they reached the gates of the Hotel de Gondi, the court of which was -filled with guards and attendants--"I mean that stout, hard-featured -man, who walks forward with as consequential a step as if the throne -were his."</p><p class="normal">"By my honour, if it be not his to take," replied De Sancy, "it may be -his to give; for if he act heartily with the king, there is little -fear of the result. If he go over to the League, the clouds, which are -dark enough already, will grow deeper still over our heads. It is -Armand de Gontaut, Marechal de Biron. He is stopping to speak with the -officer on guard. I will see if I can learn his determination; for he -is so much in the hearts of the soldiers, that one half the army will -fall off if he fail us."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, De Sancy advanced; and, with an air of some deference, -saluted Biron, who in return shook him warmly by the hand. He failed, -however, in his object of gaining any insight into the purposes of the -old soldier, though his questions were dexterously put. Whether at -that moment the Marshal had not yet determined upon any precise line -of conduct, or whether he hoped to gain greater advantages by -concealing his own views, he evaded De Sancy's enquiries; and then -said abruptly, "A great number of our friends are assembled already in -the lower hall to talk over all these affairs. If you are going to -them, I will walk in with you."</p><p class="normal">De Sancy replied that they were about to join the rest; and Biron, -after running his eyes with a glance of some attention and pleasure -over the fine and soldier-like person of St. Real, asked his companion -in a low voice who he was. De Sancy replied in the same tone; and the -Marshal rejoined in a louder voice, "Indeed, indeed!--I knew his -father too--I knew him well, in the time of my uncle, you know. -Monsieur de St. Real, I am glad to see you here, and I hope----" But -here their conversation was interrupted by an officer requiring them -to give up their swords, a ceremony which the two commanders seemed -prepared for, and with which St. Real, of course, complied without -opposition. De Biron then again turned towards St. Real, as if to -conclude his sentence; but ere he could speak, a young man, whom St. -Real had remarked with the King of Navarre as he rode into town that -morning, came up, and after shaking hands with Monsieur de Sancy, drew -Biron aside, whispered a word in his ear, and then passed on. The -Marshal smiled, and from this slight indication De Sancy drew a -favourable augury, saying to St. Real, ere the other rejoined them, "I -think from that smile all will go well. That young gentleman is Rosny, -an especial friend and adherent of his present Majesty."</p><p class="normal">By this time they had nearly reached the chamber in which the nobles -of France, with the body of their late monarch lying in a room not -very distant, and their lawful sovereign seated in the apartment -directly above them, were deliberating what use they should make of -the power which a foul and unjustifiable act of their common enemy had -thrown into their hands. The table at which they were placed was -nearly full, and Marshal Biron, with De Sancy and St. Real, placed -themselves in a group at the end next to the door; while the Duke of -Longueville, who was speaking when they entered, went on. He was a -young man of a handsome and prepossessing appearance; but his manner -was timid, and his elocution hesitating and difficult. He did not seem -so much to want ideas as words, and appeared even to want words more -from not having any confidence in himself, than from any other cause. -He expressed shortly and confusedly the determination of himself, and -of the little knot of princes and gentlemen by whom he was surrounded, -to acknowledge the title of Henry IV. to throne of France, and to -serve him with their whole souls, if he would renounce the Protestant -heresy, and reconcile himself to the church of Rome. If he refused to -do so, the Duke continued, it would be for the gentlemen, in whose -name he spoke, to consider whether they would not beg leave to retire -from his service.</p><p class="normal">Apparently not knowing how to wind up his speech, he was deviating -into one of those long and unmeaning tirades with which unskilful -orators often attempt to let themselves drop by degrees, when he was -suddenly interrupted by the Duke of Epernon, who said, somewhat -sharply, "In your offers of service, my lord Duke, I beg you to omit -my name. I have much to do on my own lands, and have borne arms long -enough."</p><p class="normal">"I will beg you to except me also," said the Count d'Aubin, who was -sitting near the Duke of Longueville, and rose to speak as soon as he -saw that Epernon had concluded. "I will not serve Henry King of -Navarre, and I trust that my reasons are good ones. As a Catholic, I -should think it treachery to my faith were I to attempt to establish a -heretic monarch upon the throne of this realm. Therefore, if the king -remains attached to the Huguenots, notwithstanding the eloquence of -Monsieur de Longueville, I cannot remain in his army; and if he be -suddenly converted by the arguments of my lord Duke, my faith in the -miracle will be too small to assure me that it will last. For myself, -gentlemen, I see no choice. If the king remain unchanged, he is a -heretic; were he to change suddenly, he would be a hypocrite; and in -neither case can I draw my sword in his behalf."</p><p class="normal">There was something sneering and bitter in the tone of the Count -d'Aubin, which, though it made the Duke of Longueville, and others of -the undecided party, hate him, and inclined them more than before to -the service of Henry IV. yet rendered others, even better disposed -towards the monarch, afraid to answer; and, for a moment there was a -pause. Seeing that no one spoke, however, St. Real took a step forward -to the table, and, without the slightest degree of hesitation, -addressed the assembly, while his name passed from mouth to mouth, and -many an enquiring ear was turned to hear what one of the simple St. -Reals would say, after the speech of the sarcastic Count d'Aubin.</p><p class="normal">"Gentlemen of France," he said, "my opinion, in many respects, -coincides with that of my cousin who has just spoken." D'Aubin, De -Sancy, and Biron, looked at him and each other in astonishment. "My -opinion," he repeated, "in many respects coincides with his; but, as -is very often the case with us, my conduct will be the direct reverse. -I think as he does, that to ask his Majesty to change his religion on -a sudden change of fortune, were to ask him to become a hypocrite; and -I should as soon think of requiring him to do so, in order to gain my -services, as he would think of requiring me to abandon my faith to -merit his favour. Let us be too just to do the one, and we may feel -sure that he is too just to do the other. The claims of his majesty, -King Henry IV. are known to us all. As the lineal descendant of St. -Louis, he is king of this realm of France, unless some of his acts -have been so black as to render him incapable of reigning. Now what -have his acts throughout life been up to this day, but noble, -generous, chivalrous, worthy to lead a nation of brave hearts upon the -path of honour? And shall we attempt to pry into his conscience? Shall -we demand that, by a sudden abjuration of his long-cherished belief, -he should stain that honour which he has ever held so pure and -spotless? The worst that the most zealous Catholic can apprehend--and -none is more zealous than I am--is that a Protestant monarch should -interfere with our faith. Let us not set him the example by -interfering with his, and take for a guarantee of his future conduct -the whole of his conduct that has gone before. We have, at this -moment, two claims upon us--the claims of our country and our -king,--both equally powerful on the hearts of Frenchmen, and happily -both in this instance leading us in the same direction. Our first duty -is to put an end to the factions which have torn this unhappy land, -and left her scarce a shadow of her former prosperity; to compel the -rebellious to submission, and teach the ambitious to limit their -expectations to their rights,--to bring back, in short, security, and -peace, and union to France. This can only be done by bending all our -energies to uphold the shaken throne, and with those good swords, -which have never yet been drawn in an unjust quarrel, to open a way -for our gallant and our rightful monarch to the seat and the power of -his ancestors. This, at least, is my determination; and I trust that I -shall see no one who aspires to honour during life, or glory after -death, fall from his duty at a moment when the safety of his country -and the throne of his king depend upon union, energy, and fidelity."</p><p class="normal">"Well spoken, on my soul," cried Gontaut de Biron. "Well spoken, on my -soul! And if all here present act up to it, the monarchy is safe!"</p><p class="normal">"That at least will I," rejoined De Sancy; "for I hold that to propose -any terms to his Majesty at this moment when--encompassed is we have -too fatally seen, by assassins, surrounded by difficulties and -dangers, and opposed by an ambitious faction--he comes unexpectedly to -a perilous throne, were base and ungenerous indeed. Let those who -will, join the party of the assassin; my voice and my sword are ready -for Henry IV."</p><p class="normal">The speech of De Sancy was followed by one of those slight murmurs -which betoken a vacillation of opinion in a popular assembly. Each man -looked in the face of his neighbour; some smiled and nodded to the -speaker, as if in approbation of what he had said; some frowned and -bit their lips; some whispered eagerly to the persons next whom they -sat; and the cheek of the Count d'Aubin, as De Sancy denominated the -League "the party of the assassin," grew as red as fire, while the -veins in his temple might be seen swelling out through his clear dark -skin.</p><p class="normal">There was a pause for a moment; but D'Aubin recovered himself quickly, -and said, "Methinks the three noble gentlemen who, not deigning to -take a seat amongst us, remain standing at the foot of the table, have -not come here to deliberate, but to announce their determination; and -if that determination were binding upon all the princes and nobles of -France, it would become us to submit and break up the council; but as -that is not exactly the case, I would propose that we should continue -our consultations, without yielding more than due weight to the veto -of Monsieur de Biron, the pithy sentences of the noble leader of the -Swiss, or to the speech of my worthy but somewhat inexperienced -cousin--a speech evidently got by heart."</p><p class="normal">"It is got by heart, Philip d'Aubin," replied St. Real, opposing to -the sarcastic sneer of the Count d'Aubin a look of calm and dignified -reproof. "It is got by heart; for it comes from my heart, and the -actions of my hand shall justify it. As to my inexperience, what you -say is true,--I am somewhat inexperienced; and I would thank God for -it, did I believe that experience would ever debase me to take -advantage of a noble monarch's utmost need either to dictate terms -which he could not comply without dishonour, or to abandon his cause -for a selfish motive or a weak pretext."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin rose angrily from his seat, and, for a moment, it did seem -that everything like deliberation was to be merged in anger and -contention; but De Biron and the Dukes of Longueville and Epernon -interfered; and after, in some degree, restoring order, Monsieur -d'Epernon addressed the French nobles, and put an end to a meeting -from which no good could accrue. "Angry words, gentlemen," he said, -"can do no good, and are not at all required. We are not here to -determine any settled plan which is to be binding upon us all; but -each is as free as before to follow his own purposes and -determinations. However, as the communication of our various opinions -has produced some heat, I think it better that we should conclude a -discussion which seems to be fruitless. Let each of us follow his own -path. For my part, though I do not draw my sword against the king, yet -I cannot reconcile it to my conscience to fight the battles of an -excommunicated monarch against my brethren of the faith."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, he rose; and beckoning one or two of those on whom he -could rely, into one corner of the hall, he entered into conversation -with them; while the same conduct was followed by various other -persons in different parts of the room.</p><p class="normal">St. Real and his companions, however, did not remain long to witness -this scene; for Marshal Biron laid his hand upon the arm of the young -noble, saying, "Come, Monsieur de St. Real; come, De Sancy! Let us to -the king. It is easy to see that he will need the consolation and -support of all that are faithful to him." Thus saying, he quitted the -chamber, followed by those to whom he spoke, and two or three others; -and, speaking a few words with one of the attendants, he was led on to -a large upper hall, where Henry IV. waited the result of the -deliberations which he was well aware were taking place around him; -the nature of which he knew, and the termination of which he feared, -but which he had no power to stop or to control.</p><p class="normal">Almost alone, with only two attendants of an inferior class stationed -at the door, he was walking up and down the room in evident agitation. -The moment he saw De Biron, however, he stopped, and gazed for a -moment anxiously in his face; but the Marshal advanced at once, and -throwing himself at the king's feet, kissed respectfully the hand that -he held out to him. Henry instantly took him in his arms, exclaiming, -"Rise, rise, Biron! Tell me what tidings you bear?" And at the same -time he extended his hand to St. Real and De Sancy, who knelt and -pressed it to their lips.</p><p class="normal">"The tidings I bear your Majesty from below," replied De Biron, "are, -I am afraid, not very satisfactory. Several, I fear, will fall off -from your Majesty, and several will be but lukewarm friends."</p><p class="normal">"That I expect," replied the king; "but if you, Biron, stand fast by -me, on your shoulder will I lean, and defy all the factions in France -to shake me."</p><p class="normal">"Thanks, sire, thanks!" replied De Biron, in his usual blunt tone. "Of -my fidelity and attachment your Majesty need have no doubt; and I -think," he added, "I think I can answer for the greater part of the -troops."</p><p class="normal">"Then we are safe!" cried the king. "Then we are safe! What with my -own forces, and those that you can bring me, Biron, the Swiss under -Monsieur de Sancy here, and the fresh troops of Maine promised me by -my young friend St. Real, I will not fear anything, even though -D'Aumont and his division go over to the enemy."</p><p class="normal">"I do not think he will, sire," replied Biron. "He is not the most -active of soldiers, but he is an honest and true-hearted man. De Rosny -told me but now that he was going to him, and I doubt not but, at the -first word, he will come to join your Majesty; but it might have been -better to have directed Rosny to speak with his officers, and bring -them over too, for D'Aumont will never think of it; and besides--"</p><p class="normal">"He has not the whole hearts of his soldiers, like Biron," added the -king. "I thought of it, my friend, I thought of it, and begged De -Rosny to see what could be done. But who have we here? Oh! our cousins -of Longueville and Nevers; and Monsieur d'O, too, whom we hope -speedily to replace in his government of Paris, which has been -ill-governed enough certainly since he left it."</p><p class="normal">As he spoke, a large body of French nobles, headed by the persons whom -he mentioned, entered the hall; and Monsieur de Biron and the others -who were with the king, forming a semicircle on either hand, the -gentlemen who had just arrived advanced, and one by one knelt and -kissed the monarch's hand. There was, however, a degree of gloom and -coldness in their countenances, which betokened no hearty wishes for -the welfare of him who had so suddenly been placed upon the throne. -When they had all saluted the king, Monsieur D'O, the titular governor -of Paris, advanced a step before the rest, and addressed the monarch -in the name of all. His tone was respectful, and his words well -chosen; but after proceeding to offer some faint congratulations to -the king on his accession to the throne, he stated that the fact of -his Majesty's adherence to the tenets of the Huguenots pained and -embarrassed many who were his faithful subjects and sincere -well-wishers; and then he proceeded boldly and unceremoniously to -propose that the monarch should reconcile himself to the Church of -Rome, and receive absolution for his past heresies, holding out but a -half-concealed threat, that if he did not comply with this sudden -proposal, the great body of the French nobles and princes of the blood -would be obliged to withdraw from the royal army.</p><p class="normal">Henry heard him patiently and calmly; though for a moment, while he -was making his somewhat extraordinary request, one of those gay and -brilliant smiles, with which his countenance was so familiar on -ordinary occasions, passed over the king's lip and chequered the -gravity of his attention. "My noble cousins and gentlemen," he said in -reply, "I confess myself not a little astonished to find that you, who -are so strongly attached to your religion, should think me so little -attached to mine. It is true my attachment is more a matter of habit -than perhaps of reason; for, living as I have lived in the tented -field, and spending the greater part of my time between the council -chamber and the battle plain, I have had no opportunity of hearing -discussed the merit of those questions which unhappily divide the one -church from the other. Nevertheless, I should think myself base, -and--what is more to the purpose on the present occasion--you also -would think me base, if for any worldly advantage I, unconvinced, were -to sacrifice the religion in which I have been brought up. That, -gentlemen, is impossible. But still I am not so foolish as to say that -I will never abandon what is called the Reformed Faith; for, on the -contrary, I will zealously and diligently investigate the merits of -the arguments on both sides; and, if my conscience will allow me, will -take those steps which I well know would be pleasing to the great -majority of my subjects. Nevertheless, this must be the work of -conviction, not of interest; and I tell you candidly, that I must -have, at least, six months to hear, and ponder, and judge, ere I can -give you any determinate answer as to what my ultimate conduct in -these respects will be. In the meanwhile, believe me, I love you all -as my children, and will serve and protect you as such to the utmost -of my power; and should there be any one amongst you who has the heart -to leave his king at the moment his king most needs his service, let -him go in peace, and not be afraid, for I will serve him still, as far -as may be, even against his will."</p><p class="normal">When the king ceased, there were one or two amongst the group of -nobles who looked as if they would fain have added something to the -speech of their orator; and it was evident the noble and dignified -manner in which Henry treated their absurd proposal was not without -effect upon any. Like all other bodies of men, however, there were -those amongst them destined to lead, and those only fitted to follow; -and the latter did not venture to act without the approbation of the -former. Bowing in silence then, the whole party retired, and were -immediately succeeded by the Baron de Rosny, afterwards famous as the -Duke of Sully, who approached with the Marechal d'Aumont. The latter -at once, and with graceful zeal in words and manner, tendered his -faith and homage to the king, and assured him that the officers under -his command would present themselves within an hour to swear -allegiance to their new monarch. He again was succeeded by another, in -whom St. Real instantly recognised the Duke d'Epernon, though he had -changed his garb within the last hour, and now appeared in deep -mourning.</p><p class="normal">The keen eye of Henry IV. at once read his purpose in the countenance -of the Duke; and, preventing him from kneeling, he said, "Pause, my -cousin, and think what you are about to do. We will excuse your -bending the knee to-day, if it be not to be bent tomorrow."</p><p class="normal">Though fantastic, and even effeminate in appearance, D'Epernon was -brave even to rashness, and by no means destitute of that calm and -dignified presence of mind which approaches near to greatness. Gravely -taking half a step back, he persisted in bending his knee, and kissed -the king's hand, replying, "My lord the king! your majesty's right to -the throne of France and to the homage of your subjects is -incontestable; and deeply do I regret that any circumstances, -religious or political, should lessen that zeal which the nobles of -France are so willing to display in behalf of their kings. But, to -avoid all subjects which it would be painful for your majesty to hear -and for me to speak, I come to crave leave to retire for a time to my -own lands, which have much need of their lord's presence. I am weary -of warfare, sire, somewhat anxious for repose, and my poor peasantry -require protection and assistance."</p><p class="normal">"Well, cousin of Epernon," replied the monarch, "if you be really -disposed to imitate the great Roman and hold the plough, my service -shall not detain you; but let me trust that you are not about to -reverse the scriptural prophecy, and turn the ploughshare into a sword -in favour of new friends."</p><p class="normal">"I need no sword, sire," replied the duke, "but that which I lately -proved beside your majesty at Tours; and be assured that if it be not -drawn in your service, it shall not be unsheathed against you."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well!" said the king, with a sigh, "so be it, if it must be so. -Fare you well, fair cousin of Epernon! and may the harvest you are -going to reap have fewer thorns than that which is before me, I fear!"</p><p class="normal">The duke bowed and withdrew; and Henry, turning to those who -surrounded him, proceeded with a sigh, "Let them go, gentlemen of -France, let them go," he said; "better a few firm friends, than a -discontented multitude. On you I repose my whole hopes; but we must -lose no time. My confidence in your judgment and in your affection is -unlimited; and therefore I send you forth amongst the mingled crowd of -friends and enemies which surrounds me in the camp, with no other -direction or command than this. Do the best you can for your king and -for your country. Rejoin me here again in the evening, to let me know -what has been done; by that time we shall have learned what troops -remain with us, and shall be able to determine upon our future -conduct."</p><p class="normal">All the king's immediate attendants now took their leave and withdrew. -Biron and D'Aumont proceeded instantly to their several quarters. De -Sancy set off to insure that there was no tampering with the Swiss -under his command; and St. Real, returning to his lodging, called his -attendants about him, and ordering a certain number to mount with -speed, prepared to go in person, in order to bring up more rapidly the -troops he had left near Senlis. In the hurry and agitation of the last -few hours, his personal situation had been forgotten; but as he was -just about to mount his horse, the appearance of his page, Leonard de -Monte, recalled to his mind both the events of the preceding evening -and his own determination of questioning the boy upon that knowledge -of his inmost thoughts which Leonard seemed by some means to have -obtained. He had no time, however, at the moment to pursue such a -purpose, and after commanding him to remain at the <i>auberge</i> till he -returned, he inquired if the boy knew where the Count d'Aubin's forces -were quartered.</p><p class="normal">"They lie under the hill at the back of the park," replied the youth. -"Shall I show you the way?"</p><p class="normal">"Quick! get a horse, then, and come," said St. Real.</p><p class="normal">"I will run by your side, and be there ere a horse could be saddled," -said the page. St. Real assented; and proceeding in the direction -which had been pointed out, he rode on, determined to make one last -effort to recall his cousin from a path which he firmly believed would -lead to dishonour.</p><p class="normal">When they had mounted the little hill, however, underneath which, as -the page had said, the Count d'Aubin's troops had been quartered, -nothing was to be seen in the meadow where their tents had lately -stood but one or two carts of the country, in which a small party of -soldiers were busily stowing the canvass dwellings wherein they had -lately made their abode, together with the spare arms and baggage of -the larger body of troops just gone.</p><p class="normal">As St. Real halted and gazed, the sound of a clarion at a little -distance struck his ear, and made him turn his eyes to the opposite -slope. Over the brow of the hill, upon the road which led towards -Paris, appeared horse and foot filing away with their arms glittering -in the summer sun; and the distance was not sufficiently great to -prevent St. Real from recognising the retainers of the house of Aubin, -joined to another body apparently little inferior in number. The step -thus taken by his cousin was too decided to admit a hope of change; -and bidding the boy, who was gazing steadfastly in the same direction, -return to St. Cloud, he resumed his own path, and rode on with all -speed towards Senlis.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XIX.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">We must now once more change the scene, and lead the reader back into -the heart of Paris, where, on the very morning which witnessed, at St. -Cloud, the events we have just been describing, the Duke of Mayenne -held a conference with some of his principal officers, and some of the -leaders of the faction called the <i>Seize</i>. It was at an early hour, -and he had already given directions for re-establishing in some degree -the rule of law and justice within the city of Paris; which -directions, though spoken with a tone that left no reply, were -listened to by those whose power and fortunes were founded upon tumult -and disorganization, with gloomy and discontented countenances.</p><p class="normal">"And now, gentlemen," continued Mayenne, turning to his own officers, -"having taken measures to restore order to the city, it becomes me to -adopt some means for preserving order in the camp. I have often -reprobated in your presence the system of continual skirmishes and -defiances which are going on in the <i>Pré aux Clercs</i>; and yet I hear -that no later than yesterday evening a cartel was exchanged between -Maroles and one of the adversary, called Malivaut, I think. The -defiance given, I do not choose to interfere; but this once over, I -will permit these things no longer: we thus lose some of our best -officers and bravest soldiers, without the slightest advantage to our -cause."</p><p class="normal">"They have gained us a great advantage this morning, my lord," replied -the Chevalier d'Aumale, who had entered just as the Duke began to -speak. "That same <i>coup de lance</i> between Maroles and Delisle Malivaut -has obtained intelligence for which your highness would have given a -spy ten thousand crowns had he brought it you."</p><p class="normal">"How so? how so?" demanded the Duke of Mayenne. "Crowns are not so -rife in our treasury, Aumale."</p><p class="normal">"Nevertheless you would have given the sum I mention," rejoined the -chevalier; "but I will tell you, my lord, how it happened. Maroles and -Malivaut met as appointed, and we stood back at a hundred yards on one -side, while the enemy remained under the old oak where Malivaut had -armed himself. As soon as the two were mounted, and the trumpet -sounded, they spurred on, and both charged their lances well: the -shock was smart, and Maroles was beat flat back upon his horse's -crupper. I thought he was unhorsed; but somehow it had happened that -Malivaut's visor had been ill-rivetted, Maroles' lance struck it just -at the second bar, drove it in, and entering between the eye and the -nose, broke sharp off; leaving the iron in the wound. For a moment we -did not see that he was hurt, for he sat his horse stiffly; but the -next instant, as he turned to get back to the oak, his strength gave -way, and he fell. Maroles instantly sprang to the ground and made him -prisoner, and both parties crying truce, ran up. A glance at his face, -however, showed us that death would soon take him out of our hands, -and, in fact, he spoke but two sentences after. The first was, 'Give -me a confessor!' The next, 'I care not to live longer, since my king -has been murdered!'"</p><p class="normal">"What! what!" exclaimed Mayenne, starting and gazing steadfastly on -Aumale.</p><p class="normal">"Ay, my lord, even so!" replied the chevalier. "<i>Murdered</i> was the -word; and we heard from the others who stood round, that Henry of -Valois died last night of a wound given him by a Jacobin the day -before."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne clasped his hands; and, looking up, exclaimed, "Guise! my -brother! at length thou art avenged!" And taking off the black scarf -which he had worn ever since the death of his brother, the Duke of -Guise, he cast it from him, adding, "So Henry of Valois is dead, the -base, effeminate, soulless tyrant! But you have not told me how it -happened, D'Aumale. Let me hear the particulars! Who ended the days of -the last of those weak brothers? Was it one of his own creatures, -unable to support any longer the daily sight of his crimes? or was it -some zealot of our party, who ventured the doubtful act for a great -object?"</p><p class="normal">The satisfaction which he derived from the event was so unconcealed, -and his surprise at hearing the intelligence so unaffected and -natural, that although those were days of suspicion, no one ventured -to suspect, for a moment, that Mayenne had any previous knowledge of -the intrigues which ended in the death of Henry III.</p><p class="normal">"Good faith! my lord," replied Aumale, "I can tell you no more than I -have already told. The friends of Malivaut let out the secret, that -the king had been stabbed by a Jacobin friar, and died of his wounds; -but we could not expect them to enter into any minute particulars. I -have still more good news, however, my lord. Ere I quitted the ground, -a servant of the gay Count d'Aubin came up, and besought me to obtain -for his master a pass for the morning, adding, that by noon, D'Aubin, -with seven hundred men, horse and foot together, would be at the -outposts on the side of St. Denis, with the purpose of joining the -Union."</p><p class="normal">These tidings did not appear to surprise Mayenne so much as the -former; but he seemed well pleased, nevertheless. "D'Aubin is better -than his word," he said, "both in regard to time and numbers. He fixed -three days, but I suppose the death of Henry has hurried his -movements. How comes he to enter by St. Denis, though? It is leading -his troops a tremendous round! There surely can be no foul play, -D'Aumale! Are you sure the servant was his?"</p><p class="normal">"Quite sure, my lord," replied Aumale, "for the fellow was once my own -<i>ecuyer de main</i>; and, besides, he gave a reason for taking that -round. 'The Huguenot army,' he said, 'was advanced as far as Meudon, -occupying both banks of the river, and the ground as far as -Beauregard; D'Aubin was afraid of being stopped, and having to cut his -way through, if he did not make a <i>detour</i>.'"</p><p class="normal">"Nevertheless, Aumale," replied the Duke, "let us be upon our guard. -Strengthen the posts towards St. Denis, and bid Nemours take his -regiment to meet and do honour to the new comers. D'Aubin I can trust, -for he plays for a great stake; but he has not seven hundred men with -him; and though he may very likely have brought over some other leader -to our cause, yet it is as well to be prepared, and to be able to -repel force by force, in case Henry of Navarre should present himself -instead of Philip d'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">Measures of precautions were accordingly taken; but at the hour -appointed, the Count d'Aubin and one or two inferior leaders, who had -joined their forces to his, presented themselves at the outposts of -the army of the League; and once having placed their troops within the -limits of the garrison of Paris, so as to be out of danger, D'Aubin -and his companions rode into the city, followed by merely a small -train of common attendants. His reception from the Duke of Mayenne was -as gracious as the circumstances had led him to expect; and the news -which he bore of the doubts and differences in the royal camp not only -removed from the leaders of the League every fear of attack, but -suggested the hope of obtaining some striking success by assuming the -offensive. Mayenne, however, though a skilful general, and a bold, -decided, and courageous man, was wanting in that great quality, -activity. Much time was spent in preparation; and it was not till the -third day after the king's death, that it was determined to march a -body, consisting of ten thousand of the best troops of the League, by -a circuitous route to Meulan, and to take up a position in the rear of -the king's army, thus cutting off his retreat upon either Normandy or -the south, and exposing him, if he held his present camp, to be -attacked at once in front and flank. The command of the force destined -for this important expedition was divided between the Chevalier -d'Aumale and the Count d'Aubin, whose skill, courage, and activity, -were undoubted, and whose zeal in favour of the League, and against -the Royalists, was likely to be the more energetic from the fact of -his having just joined the one and abandoned the others. The march was -ordered to commence the next morning early; but late in the evening, -when Mayenne, seated alone in his cabinet, was busily preparing his -last written order for the two officers in command, the Count d'Aubin -was suddenly announced, at least an hour before the Duke expected him. -He was instantly admitted, however, and advanced to the table at which -Mayenne was sitting, with one of those smiles upon his lips, which -showed that his errand had its share of bitterness. "Well, my lord," -he said, "I come to save you unnecessary trouble. You may lay down the -pen; for--as I thought we should be--we are too late."</p><p class="normal">"How so?" demanded the Duke of Mayenne. "We cannot be too late, if -they have not bribed Saint Mark. The place could hold out a year."</p><p class="normal">"They have not bribed him," replied D'Aubin, "but they have done just -as good; they have outwitted him. Yesterday, towards five o'clock, -Rosny, and some others, engaged the thick-headed fool in a parley, and -while they amused him with fair words, who should present himself at -the bridge but the Marechal d'Aumont, as if merely to pass the water, -according to convention; for St. Mark's forces have never been -sufficient to defend the bridge. Well, when the troops were in the -midst, they thought they might as well walk into the first open gate -they saw, which happened to be that of the castle. So now Meulan is in -the hands of the Huguenots; and we may save ourselves the trouble of a -march which can produce no results."</p><p class="normal">"Saint Mark is a fool," said Mayenne, as calmly as if nothing -vexatious had happened: "when we retake Meulan, we must put some -person of better understanding in it; and at present we must change -our plans. What think you, D'Aubin? will the Bearnois retreat upon -Normandy and the sea coast, or will he fall back upon Maine and -Touraine?"</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin paused thoughtfully--so long, indeed, that the Duke added, -"Speak! speak, D'Aubin! I know no one whose foresight is more shrewd -than yours. Why do you hesitate?"</p><p class="normal">"To tell the truth, my lord," replied D'Aubin, "I paused, considering -how I should answer; for your interests lead me one way, and my own -keenest wishes would make me go another. Did I choose in this instance -to consider myself, before either country, or party, or truth, or -honesty, as nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand of your -faithful followers would do, I should answer at once, that the -Navarrese will march upon Maine; but we are all playing too great -stakes at this moment for trifling, and my sincere opinion is, that -Henry will fall back on Lower Normandy."</p><p class="normal">It was now Mayenne's turn to muse. "I see not how it affects you, -D'Aubin, whether I am led to believe the Bearnois will turn his steps -the one way or the other," he replied. "Tell me what interests have -you therein more than other friends of the Catholic faith.--But first -let me hear your reasons for judging that Normandy will be the -direction of his march."</p><p class="normal">"For three strong reasons, my good lord," replied D'Aubin; "because -the Normans are well affected towards him; because he expects succour -from England; and because he is a good soldier. The first he will soon -find out, if he do not know it already; the English troops must land -on the Norman coast; and his knowledge of war will not suffer him to -leave such advantages behind."</p><p class="normal">"And now, D'Aubin," said the Duke, after listening attentively to his -reasons, "let me hear why, if you considered your own interests more -than mine, you should desire me to believe that Harry of Navarre will -march upon Maine and Touraine?"</p><p class="normal">"Simply, because I could then show you the best of all reasons for at -once fulfilling your promise in regard to the hand of Mademoiselle de -Menancourt," replied D'Aubin.</p><p class="normal">"My promise <i>shall</i> be fulfilled, Count," replied Mayenne, with some -emphasis. "Fear not that Charles of Mayenne will shrink from the -performance of his engagements; but you are somewhat too pressing. You -cannot expect me to employ force in such a matter; and you have as yet -given yourself no time to obtain, by gentleness and persuasion, that -consent which the poor girl seems somewhat reluctant to grant."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin coloured a good deal, piqued by the terms of commiseration in -which Mayenne spoke of her who had so deeply wounded his vanity; but -he was a great deal too wise to let his displeasure have vent on the -present occasion. "My lord duke," he replied, "I should have thought -your highness knew woman better. This is all caprice. During her -father's life, Eugenie showed no such reluctance; and it was but some -slight and unintentional offence on my part which first made her -declare she would not fulfil the engagement between us. Once having -said it, she makes it a matter of consistency to adhere to her -purpose; though I could very well see, in our interview of yesterday, -that her feelings in these respects were much altered. As long as she -is suffered to make a point of vanity of her refusal, she will -persist, even contrary to her own wishes; but once let her be my wife, -and I will make her contented and happy, I will be answerable for it."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne shook his head, observing dryly, "Her reluctance did not seem -to me much shaken when I spoke with her yesterday, Monsieur d'Aubin; -but still I do not see how this question is affected by Henry's march -upon Maine."</p><p class="normal">"Were he likely to execute such a march, I would soon show you how, my -lord," replied D'Aubin. "As it is, it matters little. However, the -simple fact is this: the lands of Menancourt lie contiguous to my own; -and did Henry of Navarre march thither, it would be absolutely -necessary to your best interest that I should instantly become the -husband of Eugenie, and set out for Maine, armed with power to bring -all the retainers of her father in aid of the union. Full seven -hundred men, trained to arms, and caring little which party they join, -are lying idle in the villages and hamlets there; and if Henry reaches -Le Mans before the husband of Eugenie de Menancourt, those men will be -arrayed against the union instead of in favour of it. My worthy cousin -of St. Real, who is much loved amongst the peasantry, is not a man to -stand upon any ceremonies in serving a cause which he thinks just; and -it would but little surprise me, to find the vassals of De Menancourt -marching under the banners of St. Real. But as I hold it certain that -the Huguenots will retire upon Normandy, the matter is not so pressing -that we cannot wait a few days longer, to allow your highness's -notions of delicacy full time to tire themselves out, by doubling like -a pack of beagles after a woman's caprices."</p><p class="normal">There was something in the reasoning of D'Aubin which seemed to affect -Mayenne much more than even the Count himself had expected. Rising -from his seat, the Duke strode up and down the room for a moment or -two, as if not a little embarrassed how to act; then, turning suddenly -to his companion, he said--"You hold it certain, then, D'Aubin, that -the Bearnois will fall back on Normandy and the sea? Hold it certain -no longer!" he added, taking from a portfolio, which lay on the table -at which he had been writing, an unsealed letter, and placing it in -D'Aubin's hands. "Read that, D'Aubin, read that! and you will soon see -that you are mistaken. There you see De Rosny himself, under the -king's dictation, writes to the Count de Soissons to tell him, that if -he will advance to Chateau Gontier, or even as far as Le Mans, Henry -will meet him there within fifteen days. Mark, also, he lays out the -line of march which they intend to pursue,--by Meulan, Mantes, Dreux, -Verneuil, and Mortagne."</p><p class="normal">"May not this have been thrown out to deceive us?" demanded D'Aubin.</p><p class="normal">"No," replied Mayenne. "No; it was taken upon the person of Monsieur -de Gailon last night, and they would not have risked a man of such -importance with a letter which was not of the utmost consequence."</p><p class="normal">"Well, then, my lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, returning him the letter, -with a calm and well satisfied smile, "I trust that all our purposes -will be answered. Henry has committed a fault, of which you, of -course, will take advantage."</p><p class="normal">"No immediate advantage can ensue," replied the Duke. "It was the -knowledge of these facts which made me so eager to push a strong force -upon Meulan; but as that fool St. Mark has suffered himself to be -deceived, Henry's line of march is secure. What you say of Maine, -however, is of importance, and must be thought of farther."</p><p class="normal">"By your good leave, my lord," replied D'Aubin, somewhat sharply, -"methinks it needs no farther thought at all. Either you must let the -retainers of Menancourt be raised and marched for the use and benefit -of Henry of Navarre, calling himself King of France, or I must be the -husband of the fair heiress of Maine; and before this time to-morrow -night must be on my horse's back with a hundred stout cavaliers behind -me, riding like the wind towards Chateau du Loir. The road by Chartres -is open, and all that side of the country in our favour. In three days -I shall be in Maine; and if I cannot gather together forces sufficient -to make head against the Bearnois, I will at least do something to -impede his march, and will join you with all the troops I can raise, -wherever you give me a rendezvous."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne again walked up and down the room, knitting his brow and -biting his lips with a degree of emotion which showed an evident -distaste to the proposal of his companion. D'Aubin gazed upon him with -not the most placable look, understanding the nature of his feelings, -and not a little displeased to see a disposition to delay the -fulfilment of the promise made to him; but at the same time feeling a -secret triumph in his heart at the concatenation of circumstances -which would compel the Duke of Mayenne, from political motives, to -grant that which he, D'Aubin, thought ought to have been willingly -accorded to his own merits and services.</p><p class="normal">"My lord," he cried, with a somewhat bitter laugh, after gazing upon -the Duke for two or three minutes, "I am sorry to see you hesitate -upon a matter in which both policy and justice should make you decide -at once. Your unconditional promise has been given, that Eugenie de -Menancourt shall be my bride; and circumstances have arisen, which -render it as necessary to you as agreeable to me that she should -become so immediately. In regard to these circumstances, I have dealt -with you honestly, and have done what you know there is scarcely -another follower that you have would do,--given you advice contrary to -my own interest and wishes. Now, my lord----"</p><p class="normal">"Well, well!" interrupted Mayenne, "it must even be as you say, -D'Aubin. There is no other resource; but remember, in wishing to find -one, I am not influenced by any desire to evade a promise made to you, -but solely and simply by the hope of inducing Mademoiselle de -Menancourt, by persuasion, entreaty, and remonstrance, to fulfil her -father's engagement, and thus spare me the pain of doing what I feel -to be harsh, uncourteous, and unknightly."</p><p class="normal">"Your lordship is mighty delicate in all this," replied D'Aubin; "but -I am not so much so. A little wholesome compulsion will do this proud -beauty no harm. Proud I may well call her; for, proud of her wealth, -her loveliness, and her rank, she thinks, it seems, that she is to be -treated in a different manner from every other woman in France; and I -am not sorry that, in the very fact of our marriage, that proud spirit -should be a little humbled, which would certainly render her not the -most yielding or obedient of wives."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne bit his lip. "I have never seen anything in her, Monsieur -d'Aubin," he said, "but gentleness and sweetness. Determined she -certainly is upon one point--her personal objection to yourself. What -cause you have given her for such objection I know not, and shall not -inquire, as my promise to yourself, and great state necessity, compel -me to act in a manner which no other circumstances could excuse. Now -mark me, Monsieur d'Aubin; what I intend to do is this, to yield you -my whole authority to bring about your marriage with Eugenie de -Menancourt to-morrow evening. There is a chapel in the house where she -lives, and at a certain hour my own confessor shall be there, ready to -perform the ceremony. But still remember, that I can hardly hold such -a marriage to be legal, if she persists to the last in opposing it; -and I must take measures to guard against doing aught that may either -affect my own honour and reputation, draw upon me the censures of the -church, or infringe the laws I am called upon for the time to defend -and uphold. Under these circumstances, I will write down the exact -terms and conditions on which I consent to what you propose. If -political motives alone move you to press the marriage so hastily, -what I require will be easily conceded. If otherwise, I say No! and -will try no means of compulsion till all other efforts have failed."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, Mayenne wrote down a few words on a slip of paper, and -handed it to the Count d'Aubin, who gazed on it, while the shadows of -many a quick passion flitted over his countenance. Thrice with a -frown, he lifted his eyes to the face of Mayenne; but all that he -beheld there was calm, stern determination; and, after again reading -the paper, he replied, "Well, I consent, because I doubt not, my lord, -that when she finds the matter inevitable, she will yield, even if not -with a good grace; but if we were to set out for Chartres on the -following day, it would surely be time enough for--"</p><p class="normal">"No, Monsieur d'Aubin, no;" replied Mayenne: "the plan which I have -drawn out must be followed exactly. I will myself be present at the -ceremony; and I require that you sign that paper to guard against -misunderstanding on either side, otherwise I stir no farther in the -affair. Are you contented with this arrangement?"</p><p class="normal">"Perfectly, my lord," replied D'Aubin, signing the paper with a smile. -"I merely thought that, by delaying the marriage till the following -morning, I and you, and your noble sister of Montpensier, might, -perhaps, have more time to reason her out of her prejudices; but, as -you say, it will after all be better tomorrow night, for the only -danger of interruption on my journey lies in the neighbourhood of -Paris, and it will be better to take our departure under cover of the -darkness. As for the rest, let us but show this fair lady that it is -inevitable, and I will engage that she shall soon make up her mind to -it. For this purpose, my lord, let me beseech you to furnish me with a -billet to her, under your own hand, telling her what we have -determined, couched in what courteous terms you will, but sufficiently -explicit to let her know that there is no chance of evasion."</p><p class="normal">"Perhaps you are right," said Mayenne, "perhaps you are right; but -nevertheless, D'Aubin, try all gentle means. You are not one, as far -as ever I have heard, to fail in persuasion, when you choose to use -your eloquence against a woman's heart."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin smiled, but replied, "Nevertheless, my lord, it goes somewhat -against the grain to flatter, and to soothe, and to beseech, when one -is treated with scorn, and has, at the same time, the right to -command; but still, fear not; I will do my best; and, if ever woman -was won with fair words and soft entreaties, Eugenie de Menancourt -shall come willingly to the altar; but, to give those entreaties -greater force, it will be necessary to show her, by your handwriting, -that it is not from want of power that I use the gentler before the -harsher means."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne took up the pen, but mused for many minutes ere he put it to -the paper, and even then wrote no less than three billets before he -could satisfy himself in a species of composition to which he was not -accustomed. At length, abandoning all formal excuses, he contented -himself with simply announcing to the unhappy Eugenie de Menancourt, -that motives of importance to the state compelled him to require her -without farther hesitation to fulfil her father's engagement to the -Count d'Aubin; and that he had appointed the hour of nine on the -succeeding evening for the celebration of her marriage.</p><p class="normal">"There!" he said, as he handed the note to D'Aubin--"There, sir Count! -Seldom has my hand so unwillingly traced a few lines as to-night. But -I will send my sister Catherine early in the morning to soften the -matter to the poor girl; and now, farewell! for I have matters of much -import to attend to."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin took the note, and before he noticed the hint to withdraw, -read it over attentively, to satisfy himself that it was such as he -could wish, and then folding it up again with a triumphant smile, he -uttered a few words of thanks and took his leave. Ere long, however, -those feelings of triumph died away; and other sensations took their -place. His pride had been wounded, his vanity insulted, and many of -his worldly prospects endangered by the steadfast rejection of Eugenie -de Menancourt; but his heart was not so hardened as he himself -believed it to be, nor as it appeared to others, in the fierce pursuit -of his object; and when he turned away from the cabinet of Mayenne, -and took his path homeward, he asked himself whether after all, he -should make use of the cruel power he possessed; he asked himself -whether, for the sake of humbling a fair and innocent girl, and of -gratifying his vanity by triumphing over her opposition, he could -resist the tears, and entreaties, and reproaches of a being whom he -had been accustomed to regard with tenderness, if not with love; -whether he should cause the unhappiness of her whole after days, and -at the same time unite himself, against her will, to a woman whose -dislike would only be increased by the force that was put upon her -inclinations. Even while he revolved these ideas, the memory of one -that he had long--ay, that he still loved, was wakened by the other -thoughts which struggled in his bosom; and although he had -contemplated the deed he was about to commit a thousand times before, -and fully made up his mind to it, he now shrunk with cold and chilly -repugnance at the idea of placing between himself and her who -possessed the only stronghold of his affections, the impassable -barrier of his union with another. All these feelings leagued -together, and for a time made head against his less generous purposes; -but there were difficulties in retreating, which could hardly be -overcome; and as he reached the house in which he had fixed his -dwelling at Paris, he thought, "I will sleep over these new doubts, -and decide to-morrow."</p><p class="normal">When he entered, however, he found Albert of Wolfstrom and several gay -companions, waiting to sup with him, and to bid him farewell, ere he -set out upon the expedition against Meulan, for which they still -thought he was destined on the morrow. D'Aubin despised them all, but -nevertheless he sat down with them, and drank deep. Dice succeeded to -wine; and when the Count rose from table, he had no resource, but to -wed Eugenie de Menancourt, or to descend more than one step in the -scale of society.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XX.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">If every minute event which took place in the beginning of August, -1589, was matter of importance to the inhabitants of Paris, a thousand -times more deep, intense, and thrilling than that experienced by any -other person, was the interest taken by Eugenie de Menancourt in all -that passed at that period. Her happiness, her misery for life, hung -upon the die which other hands were destined to throw; and without the -possibility of aiding herself in the slightest degree of changing the -fate that awaited her, or arresting its progress for a moment, she was -obliged to abide the unknown result in the power of people, whose -purposes she neither knew nor could control. Every rumour, every -sound, created some new sensation in her bosom. Every change, where -change was constant, either raised a momentary hope, or cast her back -into the depth of apprehension. The distant roar of the artillery, the -march of the troops through the streets, the galloping of messengers -and couriers, the military parade, even the processions of the clergy, -as they proceeded from shrine to shrine, petitioning for the aid of -God to support them in rebellion, and encourage them in assassination, -all agitated and alarmed her, till at length, her mind fell into that -state in which terror has so much the predominance, that every fresh -tidings are anticipated as tidings of sorrow. The news of the death of -the king, and the particulars of the manner in which that foul act was -perpetrated, struck her with horror and despair, as showing to what -length the men in whose hands she was placed dared to go in pursuit of -the objects of their party. Scarcely, however, had she time to think -over this event, when another, more deeply and personally painful to -herself, banished all other feelings but anxiety for her future -destiny.</p><p class="normal">One morning suddenly, the Count d'Aubin was announced, and, hardly -waiting to see whether his visit were or were not acceptable, he -followed the servant into her presence. The result of their meeting we -have already seen in his conference with Mayenne; but either vanity or -policy had induced him to distort the truth, when he had asserted that -Eugenie de Menancourt had shown the slightest symptom of vacillating -in her determination against him.</p><p class="normal">From his words and his manner, she had soon learned that he had joined -the party of the League, and that he considered all the authority and -influence of Mayenne at his command, in support of his suit towards -her; and perhaps the fear of irritating him, and driving him on to use -the power he possessed to the utmost, might make her more gentle in -her language, and less disposed to express the reprobation and dislike -she entertained towards him, than would have been the case had he -persisted in his pursuit under other circumstances. But Eugenie was -too noble, too candid, too sincere, to suffer him to believe, for one -moment, that her feelings would ever change towards him. She was -gentle, but she was firm; and D'Aubin, when he left her, was, perhaps, -the more mortified to find, from her calmness, as well as -determination, that she was influenced against him by no temporary -pique, by no fit of passion or indignation, as he had represented the -matter to others, and tried to regard it himself; but that positively -and certainly, he who had thought that her heart was at his command -whenever he chose to demand it, had never caused it to beat one pulse -more rapidly; that he had never been loved, and was now contemned and -disliked.</p><p class="normal">Although during his stay he had employed persuasion and entreaty, and -all the arts that none knew better how to use than himself, there had -still been in his tone that consciousness of power and authority which -alarmed Eugenie for the result; and with a trembling hand she wrote a -few words to the fair Beatrice of Ferrara, beseeching her to come to -her aid, determined as she was to risk any thing in order to escape -from her present situation. Fate, however, ever overrules our best -efforts; and, as if disdaining to cast away the greater exertions of -its almighty power to thwart our petty schemes, contents itself with -throwing some trifling stumbling-block in our way--some idle, -insignificant trifle, over which our pigmy plans fall prostrate in -their course. The servant whom Eugenie had charged with the delivery -of her note returned, and brought her word that Beatrice had gone out -on horseback to witness the movements of the Royalist army in their -retreat, an amusement worthy of her bold and fearless spirit. The -lady's attendants, however, had informed him, the servant said, that -she would be back long before nightfall; and Eugenie waited and -counted the anxious moments till the daylight waned, and the shadows -of evening fell over the earth.</p><p class="normal">"Beatrice must soon be here now," she thought; but moment after -moment, and hour after hour, went by, without the appearance of her -she waited for. At length, giving up hope for that night, and wearied -with wearing expectation, Eugenie retired to rest; but it was rest -broken by fears and anxieties; and early on the succeeding morning she -was up, and watching eagerly for the coming of her friend, whose bold -counsels and skilful aid might, she trusted, give her courage to -undertake, and power to execute, some plan for her own deliverance.</p><p class="normal">Watching from the large projecting window we have mentioned, she was -not long before she beheld one of the carved and gilded equipages of -the day turn into the court-yard of her own dwelling, and in a few -minutes after the door of the saloon was opened to give admission to a -visitor. But the countenance that presented itself was that of Madame -de Montpensier, not of Beatrice of Ferrara; and the heart of Eugenie -de Menancourt sunk at an occurence, which though not unusual, she felt -in the present instance could bode her no good.</p><p class="normal">The conversation which now took place may easily be divined, from the -conference between Mayenne and the Count d'Aubin. We shall therefore -not repeat it here, it being sufficient to say, that when about an -hour afterwards, D'Aubin himself entered the saloon, he found Madame -de Montpensier rising to depart, and Eugenie de Menancourt, with her -face buried in her hands, weeping in hopeless bitterness of heart.</p><p class="normal">Lifting her shoulders with an emphatic shrug, Madame de Montpensier -quitted the room in silence, and D'Aubin stood for a moment gazing -upon the fair unhappy girl whom his ungenerous pursuit had reduced to -such a state, with a variety of passions warring in his breast, in a -manner which it would be difficult to describe. After a brief pause, -Eugenie withdrew her hands from her face and turned her tearful eyes -upon him. As she looked, a sort of involuntary shudder passed over her -frame, and she again pressed her hands upon her eyes for one moment; -then, rising from her chair, she advanced direct to where he stood, -and cast herself upon her knees at his feet.</p><p class="normal">"Philip d'Aubin," she said, "you were once generous and kind of -heart:--nay, nay, hear me!" she continued, as he endeavoured to raise -her. "Hear me, I beseech you; for my happiness or misery--perhaps my -life or death--depend upon this moment."</p><p class="normal">"Mademoiselle de Menancourt," replied D'Aubin, "I can hear nothing, I -can attend to nothing, while you there remain in a posture unbecoming -to us both--for you to assume and for me to suffer. Rise, I entreat -you!"</p><p class="normal">"No, no!" she replied, clasping her hands earnestly. "I will not, I -cannot rise till you have heard me. Have I not used every other means? -have I not employed every other form of entreaty without avail? and I -now kneel at your feet to beseech you to spare yourself and me misery -interminable. I have told you, and with bitter regret have I been -obliged to tell you, that I cannot love you as woman should love her -husband; and I did not resolve to tell you so till I had struggled -with my own heart,--till I had combated all my own feelings,--in -order, if possible, to fulfil what had been a wish of my father. I -struggled, I combated in vain, Monsieur d'Aubin; for the more I did -so, the more I found that my peace of mind required me to take a -decided part,--that honour and justice towards you required me to tell -you that I could not, that I would not, be your wife. Why, why -persecute me thus, Monsieur d'Aubin?" she continued; "you do not love -me--you have never loved me; and, under such circumstances, how can -you expect me to love you? Why not turn to any of those who will not -only consider themselves as honoured by your suit, but who, much -better suited than I am to your views, your habits, and your feelings, -have it in their power to return your affection, and to meet you, as I -doubt not you deserve to be met, with love for love?"</p><p class="normal">"You mistake me altogether, Eugenie," said D'Aubin, raising her almost -forcibly, and leading her back to her seat; "I do love you; and I -trust that, though you doubt your own feelings at present, you will -find it not so difficult, when you are my wife, to feel towards me in -such a manner as to be happy yourself and to render me so."</p><p class="normal">"Do not deceive yourself, Monsieur d'Aubin!" exclaimed Eugenie. "I do -not doubt my own feelings! I am but too sure of them! I do not love -you, I cannot love you, any more than you love me; and if you persist -in your pursuit, you do it warned of what are my sentiments towards -you, and assured that those sentiments will but become more repugnant, -in proportion to the degree of constraint used towards me."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay," replied D'Aubin, willing as far as possible to use gentle -means, and try those powers of persuasion which he believed himself, -not unjustly, to possess; "nay, nay, dear Eugenie, you do me wrong -altogether; believe me, I do love you sincerely. I know that I have -acted foolishly, wrongly towards you; I know that, prompted by vanity, -and the gay and roving disposition of youth, flattered and courted, -idle, perhaps, conceited, I appeared to neglect and undervalue the -jewel that was offered to me in the hand of Eugenie de Menancourt. -But, believe me, dear Eugenie, that it was not that I failed to esteem -that jewel at its full and highest price; it was but that foolishly I -thought it my own beyond all risk. Consider in what school I had been -brought up,--consider the lightness and fickleness of all by whom I -was surrounded; forgive me the errors and the follies that are past -away for ever, and give me an opportunity of proving to you that they -are deeply regretted, and will never be renewed. My whole life, my -whole thoughts, my whole endeavours, shall be devoted to wipe out the -evil impression which a few acts of folly have left upon your mind; -and surely the unceasing devotion and tenderness of one who will never -forget that he wronged you, and that you forgave him, will be -sufficient to atone for errors which proceeded more from idle levity -than from evil purpose."</p><p class="normal">"Monsieur d'Aubin," said Eugenie, sadly, "I accuse you of nothing, I -blame you for nothing. What might have been my feelings towards you, -had your conduct been different towards me, I cannot tell--I cannot -even guess: but you greatly deceive yourself if you think that my -sentiments towards you originate in anger, or mortified vanity, or -wounded pride. I must be candid with you to the very utmost, and tell -you that I never felt towards you anything which could enable your -conduct to others to inflict one pang upon me. I have never loved you, -Monsieur d'Aubin, and the only effect of your behaviour has been to -teach me that I never can love you."</p><p class="normal">"You have inflicted upon me that mortifying reiteration, somewhat -often," replied D'Aubin; "and perhaps I am not wrong when I ask, -whether the want of love towards your promised husband in the past and -the present, has not originated in love for another?"</p><p class="normal">Eugenie's cheek crimsoned to a hue deeper than the rose; and something -between confusion and indignation kept her silent. D'Aubin drew his -own conclusions; but, strange to say, though those conclusions were as -bitter as well might be, they only added fire to the fierceness of his -pursuit. His cheek, however, reddened also; but it was with the -struggle of anger, and interest, pride and vanity; and he went on: "I -see I am right, Mademoiselle de Menancourt, and am sorry to see it. -Nevertheless, my confidence in you is such, that I entertain not the -slightest doubt, that however unwisely you may have entertained such -feelings hitherto, you will crush them with wise precaution, and bury -them in speedy oblivion, when you become my wife. Nor am I inclined to -resign my hopes of teaching you to change all such opinions by my own -conduct, and of bringing you to love me, when your duty shall be -engaged to second all my efforts."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie saw that her fate was determined, as far as the Count d'Aubin -had power to govern it. She saw that with him entreaties would be -ineffectual, and tears of no avail. Nothing then remained but -resolution; and although she knew not what protection the law of her -native land held out to one under her circumstances, and was too well -aware that in the city where she was detained, popular violence had -broken through all the restraints of society; yet she determined that -no weakness or want of energy on her own part should favour the -oppression to which she was subjected. As soon as she perceived that -the humble supplications to which she had descended fell as vainly -upon the ear of the Count d'Aubin as the song of the charmer upon the -deaf adder, her whole manner changed; and, assuming the same look of -unconquerable determination which he had put on towards her, she -replied, "My duty, Sir Count d'Aubin, will never either second or -prompt any efforts on my part to feel differently towards you than I -do now; for I never will be, and never can be, your wife. The arm of -power may drag me to the altar, and a mockery of religious service may -be read between us; but there, as here, my voice shall steadfastly -pronounce the same refusal; the ring, with which you think to wed me, -shall be trampled under my feet; no contract shall ever be signed by -me; and as long as I have strength to lift my voice, I will appeal -against the tyranny which oppresses me. Moreover, let me warn you, -that every step that you take forward in this brutal and ungentlemanly -course will but increase those feelings which you have this day -striven in vain to remove, till indifference becomes dislike, and -dislike grows into detestation."</p><p class="normal">"You will think better of this, Eugenie," said D'Aubin, surprised and -struck by energy and vehemence, such as he had never witnessed in her -before. "We are destined to be united, and be assured that nothing can -make a change in this arrangement. Let us not meet, then, at enmity. -You will think better of this."</p><p class="normal">"Never," replied Eugenie, "never! You have roused a spirit in my -bosom, Count d'Aubin, that you knew not existed there--that I knew not -myself till this hour. But I feel that it will bear me through -everything; and I tell you boldly, and at once, that I would -infinitely rather die, were death within my choice, this moment, than -be the wife of Philip d'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin bit his lip, and casting his eyes upon the ground, paused for -a moment in deep thought, his resolutions and purposes shaken by what -he had heard, and his mind once more undecided. "Tell me," he said at -length, "tell me, Mademoiselle de Menancourt, if by my application to -the Duke of Mayenne the ceremony of our marriage this night, which I -see has been announced to you by the Duchess de Montpensier, can be -put off to some later period, will you give me the hope, that after a -certain time, during which my conduct towards yourself, and towards -the world, shall be in every respect irreproachable, I may obtain your -hand, without doing that violence to your feelings, which it seems -would be the consequence of our present union?"</p><p class="normal">Eugenie turned deadly pale, under the emotion that she felt. The -words of the Count d'Aubin offered her the prospect of a temporary -relief--offered the means of obtaining invaluable time, during which a -thousand changes of circumstances might take place to free her from -the difficulties and dangers that surrounded her; but she asked -herself, how was this to be bought? By deceit, by the first deceit she -had ever been guilty of in life; and though many a casuist might -argue, and argue perhaps justly, that she had a right to oppose the -unjustifiable means employed against her, by any method in her power -to use, the heart of Eugenie de Menancourt was not one that could -admit such reasoning in regard to honesty and truth. She would not -have bought her life by deceit; and though perhaps in the present -instance she might feel that more than life itself was at stake, she -would not sacrifice her own good opinion even for that.</p><p class="normal">"No, Monsieur d'Aubin," she replied, after a long and agitated -pause--"No!--I will not deceive you. No time can change my opinion or -determination. I never can be your wife. If you will desist from your -present pursuit--if you will recollect the former generosity of your -sentiments--if you will consider your own honour, and my peace of -mind, and set me free from this persecution, you will merit and obtain -my deepest gratitude, my thanks, and my admiration; but, Philip -d'Aubin, you never can have more."</p><p class="normal">"Then you seal your own fate, Eugenie de Menancourt," replied D'Aubin, -"and things must take their course, as already arranged. Yet think not -that this arrangement has been planned solely to gratify me. Other and -more important interests are involved therein, and you will see by -this note from the Duke of Mayenne, that motives of state necessity -compel both him and me to abridge that ceremonious delicacy which -otherwise would have been extended towards you."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie took the paper, and tried to read it over; but agitation and -apprehension caused the letters to dance before her eyes, and she only -gathered the general import, and saw that as far as Mayenne and the -Count d'Aubin had power, her fate was sealed indeed. Although her -resolution remained in full force, and her mind was as unconquered as -ever, she felt that her bodily powers were failing her; and fearful -that Aubin should see how much she was overcome, as well as anxious -for a few hours of uninterrupted thought, she waved her hand for him -to leave her.</p><p class="normal">"Not one word more?" he said, advancing as if to take her hand. "Not -one word more?"</p><p class="normal">"No," replied Eugenie, shrinking back from him with involuntary -horror. "No, I have nothing more to say."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin turned on his heel, mortified to the very heart by the -personal dislike which he marked with the keen eyes of wounded vanity: -and without another word, left Eugenie to solitude, and to feelings -very nearly akin to despair.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXI.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">A long summer's day was over, and nothing remained of its splendour -but a fading tint of purple in the deep blue sky; while Venus and the -moon came hand in hand together above the trees, as if to divide -between their bright but gentle rule the tranquil kingdom of the -night. The royal camp no longer sounded with the clang of arms or the -tramp of marching men; the man[oe]uvres for the day were over; and the -soldiery, quartered in the village of St. Cloud itself, had left the -streets vacant, while they sought consolation after all the labours -and exertions of the morning, in the gay evening meal and often -replenished flask. The body of the dead king lay--almost forgotten, by -those who had fed upon his bounty and encouraged his vices,--in the -house where the hand of the assassin had struck him; and lights were -just beginning to twinkle in the windows of the old chateau where the -new monarch had fixed his abode the night after his accession to the -tottering throne of France.</p><p class="normal">Such was the state of St. Cloud, when, on the third evening after the -death of Henry III. a party of horsemen paused at the gates of this -park, and, dismounting there, advanced towards the old palace on foot. -The guards at the gates saluted as the cavaliers passed; and Henry IV. -who walked a step before the rest, mused as he proceeded, leading the -way with a slow step, and sometimes gazing up thoughtfully at the blue -twilight sky, sometimes fixing his eyes upon the gravel of the path, -absorbed in deep and silent reverie. At length, turning to those who -accompanied him, he said, "Our arrangements, I think, are all now -complete, and we may begin our march to-morrow. I have to thank you, -Rosny, for Meulan; and you, St. Real, for as fine a body of men as -ever a loyal heart brought to the aid of a poor king. D'Aumont has, I -suppose, already marched to see what friends he can raise for us in -the east; but I much fear that our messenger has never reached our -worthy cousin, the Count de Soissons! However, it matters not, as, by -the reports from Normandy, we shall most likely change our plans. -Still I could wish, De Rosny, that you would write a few lines to the -Count, bidding him advance as fast as possible upon Mans, and then -regulate his movements by what he hears of ours; remembering, however, -that the great object is to bring me men and money as speedily as -possible. Let the letter be copied six times, and I will come and sign -each ere half-an-hour be over. Sent by six separate messengers, one of -these letters can scarcely fail to reach him. You, St. Real, look well -to your quarters; for these Leaguers must know by this time how much -our forces are diminished, and may strive for some advantage. Fare you -well! Good night! Quick! up to the chateau, Rosny, and take all these -others with you. I would fain have half-an-hour's quiet thought, -amidst these moonlight walks, where so many of my ancestors have -wandered, ere I quit them, perhaps for ever, after having been their -sovereign but for a day!"</p><p class="normal">"Were it not better, your Majesty," replied De Rosny, in a low voice, -"to keep a few of your attendants around you? Remember that the dagger -of the assassin found your predecessor in the midst of his army and -his court, and that treason has been so evident amongst those by whom -we are surrounded, that we cannot tell whose hand may next be armed -against his monarch's life."</p><p class="normal">"I fear not, De Rosny," replied Henry, "I fear not! If it be the will -of God that I fall, the weapon will find me in the midst of guards and -precautions, as easily as alone in the open field. Nor do fear the -treason you seem to apprehend. Our camp has lately been like a butt of -new made wine, in one general ferment, where all was troubled and -unpalatable; but that very ferment, I trust, has worked it clear, and -I would not be the man to fancy myself continually surrounded by -secret enemies--no, not if I could thereby spin out this mortal thread -for centuries beyond the length of ordinary lives! No, no! De Rosny, I -fear not, and I would be alone."</p><p class="normal">The last words were spoken in a tone that left no reply; and De Rosny, -beckoning to those who followed, walked on directly towards the -chateau, while Henry turned into one of the lateral alleys, down which -the moonlight was streaming in full effulgence. One or two of the -attendants lingered for a moment, as if still unwilling to leave the -king; but Henry waved his hand for them to depart, and then walked on.</p><p class="normal">There are periods in the life of every man, when so many events are -crowding into the short space of a few days, when such manifold calls -upon attention, and such deep and important interests for -consideration load the wings of every minute as it flies, that time is -wanting for the recollection, for the thought, for even the feeling, -of how the mighty changes which are going on around us affect our own -individual nature, and work upon our being and our fate. At those -periods, to every thinking and intellectual mind, comes a thirst and a -longing for even a brief space of calm reflection; and we gladly seize -the very first opportunity of withdrawing our thoughts from the -wearying necessity of directing our actions on the instant, and give -them up for a time to that consideration of remote prospects and -general feelings, which, after the energetic activity lately required -of us, is comparatively a state of tranquillity and repose.</p><p class="normal">Such had been, and such was the situation of Henry IV. Since the -assassination of the late king, scarcely an instant had passed without -some imperious demand for immediate exertion. Mighty and deep were the -interests involved; imminent and terrible were the perils that -surrounded him; and the consequences of every step that his foot trod, -in the rough and precipitous path before him, were not only destined -to affect himself as an individual, but to carry weal or woe to -thousands and tens of thousands; to change the fate of states and -kingdoms, and decide the destiny of generations yet unborn. His crown -and station for life, the security and fortune of his friends, the -power of recompensing those who served him, the right of chastising -the rebel, and of punishing the traitor; the means of restoring peace -to his rent and devastated country, the weal and welfare of his whole -people, hung trembling in the balance of every instant, and required -the exertion of all the energies with which God had blessed his great -and powerful mind for the direction of his feeling and generous heart. -The exertions of those energies had not been spared by Henry IV. He -had lost not a moment; he had neglected not an opportunity; he had -done more than mortal frame could well endure; and had taken from the -cares of empire not even the time for necessary refreshment and -repose. But now that the hurricane had in some measure passed by, that -the evil of the hour was accomplished, and that every means which -human sagacity could devise had been taken to remedy past misfortunes, -and to guard against future perils, he gave way to that longing thirst -for communion with his own heart, which the heat of the great storm of -difficulties and dangers he had undergone, and the fatigue of mighty -exertions, had left behind. Well, well might he think of that vast, -dim, misty prospect, the future! Well, well might he look around to -see, if beyond the rocks, and shoals, and tempests, which surrounded -him, he could perceive no calmer scene, no haven of repose, no gleam -of sunshine to light him on over the dark and troubled waters around -him! Well, well might he ask his own heart, if he could have courage, -and energy, and perseverance sufficient, to dare all the dangers, to -bear all the reverses, and again and again breast the waves which had -so often dashed him back against the rocks.</p><p class="normal">Such were his thoughts, such the matter of his contemplation, as, with -his eyes now bent on the ground, now raised towards the sky, he walked -slowly along one of the alleys of the old park of St. Cloud. But his -mind wandered far, and paused for a moment upon many of those -collateral associations to which his circumstances and situation gave -rise. He thought of the sorrows and cares of kingly lot, of the -ingratitude and baseness of mankind, of the hollowness and -heartlessness of courts, and of the selfishness and insincerity of -many of those who dwelt in them. He remembered the fate of his -immediate predecessor; betrayed by those whom he had favoured, driven -from his capital, and almost hurled from his throne by the friend and -companion of his youth,<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a> opposed in arms by those whom his bounty -had fed and pampered, and murdered by the representative of an order -which he had loaded with benefits and degraded himself to serve. He -thought of what might be his own fate; and, judging from all the signs -that he saw around him, he argued, that the well of bitterness was but -freshly opened for him, and that his hand held a cup of sorrow whereof -he was destined to drink to the very last drop.</p><p class="normal">Then again, as he raised his eyes towards the beautiful planet which -was diffusing the flood of her tranquil light over field, and plain, -and wood, over armed camp and beleaguered city, as calmly and -tranquilly as if nothing but peace, and virtue, and happiness dwelt -beneath her beams, his mind reverted to his early days, when he had -seen the same effulgent rays pour through the mighty masses of his -native mountains, and stream down the lovely valleys in which he had -first learned to shoot his boyish arrows at the mark, to cast the -light line for the silver trout, or to pursue the swift-footed izzard -over the beetling crags: and as he thought of those sweet times and -happy hours, how he did long, with the deep yearnings of the -disappointed heart, to be able to cast away crown and sceptre, sword -and shield, the miseries of high station, the bitter wisdom of -manhood, and to sport again, a boy, with the happy carelessness of -other years, by the bright waters of the Gave, and amidst the lustrous -valleys of Ossau, Argelez, and Pau!</p><p class="normal">By this time he had nearly reached the end of the alley, where it -opened out upon a small lawn, over which, in the neglect of all things -that existed during the civil wars, the grass had grown up long and -rank; and he was preparing to return and bend his steps towards the -chateau, when a light rustling sound amongst the trees caught his -ear, and made him draw round his sword belt, till the hilt of his -well-tried weapon was within easy reach of his hand.</p><p class="normal">The next moment the cause of that sound stood before him, at the -distance of about ten paces; and the moon afforded quite sufficient -light to show the monarch that no fresh peril was near. The form was -that of a page, and the next moment Leonard de Monte advanced, and -cast himself upon his knee at Henry's feet. "Ha! my friend the page!" -cried the king; "I saw you yesterday, as I passed through the village, -and recognised you instantly; but had no time to speak. What would you -now, good youth?" and as he spoke he extended his hand towards him.</p><p class="normal">Leonard de Monte raised it to his lips, but still continued kneeling, -while he replied, "I crave a boon, sire. You may remember that I once, -not many moons since, led you in safety through more than one path of -danger; and you promised me then, that if ever I asked you a boon -consistent with your honour, you would grant it."</p><p class="normal">"And so I will, if it be possible," answered Henry; "though I have -granted you one boon already without your asking it; I mean that I -have kept your secret!" Leonard de Monte started up and drew a step -back; but the king continued, "Did you fancy I did not recollect you? -Ay! within five minutes after our first meeting: but never mind, and -do not fear; speak your boon boldly, and, if it be in my power, I will -not say nay; though, to tell the truth, within these three days I have -granted so much that I doubt if there be anything left in all France -to grant!"</p><p class="normal">"Mine will not be difficult, sire," replied the page; "it is but this, -that you will give me, under your royal hand, an order addressed to -all your lieutenants, officers, and seneschals, and to all persons, in -short, who hold you dear, to aid and help me with the whole of their -power whenever I shall call upon them; to protect me and all who are -with me in case of danger, and to give me every kind of information -and assistance which I may require for my personal safety."</p><p class="normal">"You ask a very high and unlimited power of command for a boy of your -age!" said the king, laughing; "but I think I may trust you; and yet," -he added, in a graver tone, "such authority might be abused."</p><p class="normal">The boy again advanced and once more bent his knee, "Never by me, -sire!" he said; "and to think so for one moment, would be to do me -foul injustice. Born in a foreign land, and my own sovereign at least, -I cannot offer you allegiance; but I swear with truer intentions than -many of those who have vowed faith and service to you within these -three days, that I will never use the power I ask from you but for the -purposes of safety. I promise it upon my word--a word that was broken; -upon my honour--an honour that has never known a stain."</p><p class="normal">"You are an extraordinary being," said the king, "and I will do what -you ask without a doubt; but tell me," he added with a smile, "what -name shall I put in this general order? Shall it be Leonard de Monte, -or a nobler name?"</p><p class="normal">"Show me that you do really know me," answered the other, in a gayer -tone than he had hitherto used, "by writing the name you would fix -upon me in the letter."</p><p class="normal">"Do you think I have forgotten the conferences of Niort?" demanded -Henry; "no, no! I remember them well; and I recollect, too, that when -I pressed Madame de Saulnes somewhat hard to tell me what I was really -to expect from the court of that day, she told me to ask you, not her; -for that your habits were different; you never told a falsehood, and -she never told the truth!"</p><p class="normal">"But I told you nothing!" exclaimed the boy, eagerly.</p><p class="normal">"No, but you said plainly you would not!" answered the king, "and -therefore I trusted you with my life when last I met you; and will -trust you to the very utmost now. Come, let us go back to the castle."</p><p class="normal">As he spoke, he took the hand of the youth, who had again risen; but -Leonard de Monte instantly withdrew it, saying, "Perhaps I had better -send for the paper when your Majesty has had leisure to finish it."</p><p class="normal">"Good faith, you must take it now or never!" answered Henry: "but who -have we here?"</p><p class="normal">"'Tis but a page I sent to seek you at the chateau, sire," replied his -companion, "while I waited amongst the alleys for his return. I heard -your voice, however, as you dismissed your attendants, and followed -you hither."</p><p class="normal">"Ha, St. Real's dwarf, who met us in the wood!" cried the monarch, as -the page Bartholo approached, "Pardie! your schemes seem to have been -well and deeply laid; and yet there is a mystery which I cannot -altogether fathom; though I have been accustomed to deal with those -whose trade is deceit, till my eyes, I believe could well nigh -penetrate the nether millstone. You must some day let me into the -secret of all this."</p><p class="normal">"Perhaps I may, your Majesty," replied the youth; "that is, I may some -time give you the secret of my own conduct. The secret of my present -request, sire, is very soon told. I seek but to aid the oppressed, and -if your Majesty will listen to the tale, it shall be told as we go -along."</p><p class="normal">"Speak, speak!" replied the king; "we treat as crown to crown, you -know; and I must e'en take as much or as little of your confidence as -your diplomacy is pleased to offer. Speak! and if I can aid you, count -upon my help."</p><p class="normal">Leonard de Monte made a sign to Bartholo to draw back; and then -walking by the side of the king, with the ease of one accustomed to -courts and the society of princes, proceeded to tell the tale he had -mentioned, in a low voice, the tones of which scarcely reached the -dwarf's ear. It was evident, however, that the king soon became -interested; sometimes suddenly interrupting the soft melodious tones -in which the voice spoke, to ask some rapid question, sometimes -abruptly pausing to listen with greater attention, and then resuming -his walk towards the chateau. When they had nearly reached the gates, -the monarch again turned, exclaiming, "Marry her to St. Real!--Pardie! -that was not the consummation I expected."</p><p class="normal">"And why not, sire?" demanded the boy. "Wherefore should she not be -married to St. Real?"</p><p class="normal">"Why, certainly, I did not suppose you wished to marry her yourself!" -replied Henry, laughing. "You are very generous, however."</p><p class="normal">"Sire, your majesty mistakes me," replied Leonard de Monte in a grave -tone,--"mistakes me, my views, wishes, and purposes entirely."</p><p class="normal">"I perceive I do," replied the king, "and acknowledge you are more a -mystery to me than ever. However, this is all irrelevant to the matter -of deep interest which you have just told me, and to the shrewd but -daring plans which you have formed. On my honour," he added, "you have -a bold and generous heart, and, could we but get you to grow a little -taller, would make as good a knight as ever couched a lance. But let -us speak to the point. You must have my counsel and advice, for I have -been somewhat famous for <i>coups de main</i> in my day;--be so good, Sir -Dwarf, as to put at least a hundred times your own length between your -steps and ours; we shall give you notice when we want your presence at -our conference." Thus saying, the king again entered the lateral -alley, in which he had first met Leonard de Monte, and dropping his -voice so as to confine the sense of his words to the ears for which -they were intended, he continued the conversation with rapid and eager -interest. Leonard de Monte frequently joined in; and, by the time they -reached the end of the walk, it seemed that their plans were fully -arranged; for, wheeling suddenly round, they returned with much -quicker steps towards the chateau, keeping silence also as they went, -till at length, when within a hundred yards of the terrace, Henry -burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming--"Ventre Saint Gris, 'twill be -worth half a province so to circumvent his slow Highness of Mayenne!"</p><p class="normal">He then led the way into the palace; and, bidding the dwarf wait in -the vestibule, proceeded to a small cabinet in which De Rosny, -together with a secretary, was busily engaged in writing the letters -before mentioned to the Count de Soissons. The grave and somewhat -formal Huguenot raised his eyes with some surprise to the handsome and -glittering youth who entered with the king, and to whose face and -person he was totally a stranger. Henry, however, without noticing his -astonishment, and seemingly entirely occupied by the thoughts to which -his late conversation had given rise, led the way on into a chamber -beyond, bidding the secretary bring him instantly materials for -writing. Then casting himself into a chair, he wrote with a rapid -hand, in the first place, the general letter, which the youth had -originally demanded, and then another longer epistle, which he folded -and sealed with his private signet.</p><p class="normal">"This," he said, handing the letter to Leonard de Monte, "this is to -be your last resource if other means fail; and I do not think, however -he may deny our authority, that our worthy cousin will neglect the -warning there given him. Nevertheless, try all other means first, and -forget not to give me instant information of the result; for even -should the beginning be successful, it may require some pains and some -power to render the end equally fortunate."</p><p class="normal">The boy, who had remained standing, took the papers; and kissing the -king's hand, with many thanks, retired from his presence. Passing -through the vestibule, he beckoned to the page to follow him, and, -with a rapid step, proceeded to the outward gates. Then taking his way -to the <i>auberge</i>, in which St. Real lodged, he entered the room in -which the young marquis was seated.</p><p class="normal">St. Real beckoned him to approach, saying, "I have sent for you twice, -Leonard."</p><p class="normal">"No one told me of it, sir," replied the boy, "and in fact no one -could, for I was absent till within this moment. But what are your -commands?"</p><p class="normal">"Come hither," said St. Real, with a smile, "and I will tell you." The -page approached; and the young lord marking some sort of impatience in -his countenance, for a few minutes played with his expectation as one -might do with the eagerness of a child.</p><p class="normal">At length, however, he asked more gravely----</p><p class="normal">"Do you remember, on the night of the king's death, you sang me a -song, and repeated me a proverb, which, together with your own words, -too well applied to myself to have been spoken accidentally? You -escaped me at the time; and since, I have not had an opportunity of -speaking with you on the subject. But now I must not only demand to -know how you have fathomed secrets which I thought confined to my own -bosom; but I must also require of you to tell me who and what you are, -for your language and your station are at variance, and I must have my -doubts satisfied."</p><p class="normal">"Sir," replied the boy, while first a playful smile, and then a look -almost approaching to sorrow, passed over his countenance, "with -regard to what I know of yourself, some day I may tell you how I know -it, but I cannot tell you now. In regard to what you ask concerning -myself, I can give you but one answer. Did you ever hear of beings -called fairies, who, for some particular motive of friendship or -regard, sometimes come down to do better than mortal service to a -chosen race, or a particular individual? If you have heard of such -beings--and who has not?--you must know, that the very first question -concerning their nature, or their fate, dissolves the spell that binds -them to the person they serve, and ends their term of service. Such, -sir, is the case with me. So long as you asked me no questions, I was -your willing page and humble attendant. Your curiosity has dissolved -the spell, and all I can do is, to bid you farewell, and to tell you, -that you will never see Leonard de Monte more."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, he again darted out of the room, leaving St. Real -uncertain whether he spoke in jest or earnest. Determined, however, to -know more, the young nobleman started up, and opened the door, in -order to call the gay youth back, and question him farther. Bartholo -the dwarf was seated in the ante-room, together with another -attendant; and St. Real bade him instantly follow the page, and bring -him back. The dwarf stared for a moment, as if in astonishment at the -command; and then replied, that he knew not where to find Leonard, for -that he had seen him enter the room from which the young lord had just -come, but had not seen him return. The other attendant was in the same -story, and St. Real caused the boy to be sought for in vain.</p><p class="normal">The next morning, however, a greater defection was found amongst his -followers, which satisfactorily accounted to St. Real for the magical -disappearance of his page on the preceding night. The dwarf Bartholo, -and three of his ordinary attendants, were nowhere to be heard of; -but, by this time, the tampering of the Leaguers with every class of -persons in the royal camp was so great and notorious, that St. Real -was not at all surprised to find that five of his followers had been -induced to quit his service. The loss of Leonard de Monte, however, he -felt more than he could have anticipated from the short time the youth -had been in his service, and from the slightness of the duties -required at his hands; but, from the first moment he had seen him, the -young lord of St. Real had conceived an interest in his page which -every hour had increased. During his first deep sorrow for the loss of -his father, he had found the boy's attentions so soothing and well -judged, his sympathy apparently so deep and true, his few words of -consolation so mingling together sense and feeling, that he felt -gratitude towards him as well as regard; but there was something more -than all this. With all the boy's occasional boldness and daring, -there was blended a softness and a gentleness, which, together with -the apparent weakness of his slight frame, and a few traits of -timidity, approaching to cowardice, rendered him an object of that -tender care which always endears those in whose behalf it is -exercised. Thus, when St. Real found that the youth had really left -him, though he felt some slight degree of anger at a desertion which -he was conscious he had not deserved, he experienced no small desire -to know the former, and guide the future fate of Leonard de Monte.</p><p class="normal">Events, however, calling for frequent and vigorous exertion, were -multiplying so rapidly round his path, that he had but little time to -give to matters of more remote interest. He occasionally thought of -the youth, it is true, but more often grieved over the conduct of his -cousin, and never ceased to ponder, with bitterness of heart, on the -fate of Eugenie de Menancourt, and on his own feelings towards her. -But still every hour brought some claim upon his attention of a -different kind; and in the retreat of the royal army, which began two -days after his page had left him, he had scarcely time for any other -sensations than the anxiety and foresight attendant upon withdrawing a -small and ill-supplied body of men from the presence of a powerful -adversary.</p><p class="normal">It was in the midst of the arrangements incident to such a retreat, -that, at the first halting place on the march, Monsieur de Sancy came -into the small room in which St. Real was seated at Mantes, -exclaiming--"I have news for you, Monsieur de St. Real! Your cousin -has already secured the recompense at which he aimed in quitting us. -He was married last night to Mademoiselle de Menancourt, the rich -heiress of Maine. I have it from one who was in Paris at the time."</p><p class="normal">St. Real made no reply; but he turned so deadly pale, that De Sancy -could not but observe that something had gone amiss, and instantly -strove to turn the conversation into another channel.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">It was toward that hour in the evening, at which the rays of twilight -that linger behind the rest of the lustrous retinue of day are called -away from the sky, and our hemisphere is given over to the absolute -rule of night--it was at that hour, too, which is more important, when -the joyous denizens of the gay capital of France, after having sunned -themselves through the long afternoon of a summer's day in the gardens -and highways, were in those times wont to retire each to his -individual home, to enjoy such dainties as the bounty of nature and -the skill of his cook had prepared for the last meal of the evening. -It was about nine o'clock, then, on a night in August, when, the -streets of Paris being nearly deserted by every one else, a strong -troop of horsemen assembled in the little square, nearly opposite to -the dwelling of Eugenie de Menancourt.</p><p class="normal">The gentleman who was at their head, springing to the ground, advanced -to the door; and after asking a few questions of one of the servants, -entered the court. Shortly afterwards the carriage of Madame de -Montpensier rolled heavily up; and that fair dame herself, with one or -two ladies in her train, descended therefrom and mounted the great -staircase. Then, after a pause of five minutes, the Duke of Mayenne -appeared on horseback, with his habiliments somewhat dusty, as if -unchanged since his return from some long expedition, and accompanied -by a numerous train of officers and attendants. Dismounting from his -horse, the Duke dismissed at once the principal part of his suite; -only retaining two or three of the inferior attendants who remained -below at the gate, while he himself, with a slow and seemingly -unwilling step, entered the house.</p><p class="normal">The servant who marshalled the Duke on his way to the saloon did not -seem to look upon him with the best-satisfied countenance in the -world; and the faces of the three or four attendants who had been -permitted to remain with the young heiress of Menancourt after -their old lord's death, and who now appeared in the lobbies and -ante-chambers, seemed full not only of grief, but of a sort of sullen -determination, which, had their numbers been greater, might have -broken out at once in a more serious manner.</p><p class="normal">Mayenne, however, marked them not, but mounted the stairs and entered -the saloon; and certainly, if his heart revolted at the part he was -about to act, the scene which now presented itself to his eyes was not -calculated to reconcile him to the proceeding.</p><p class="normal">Standing at one of the farther windows, and looking out into the dark -street, where he certainly could see nothing to engage his attention, -was the Count d'Aubin, while seated at a table, on which stood two or -three lighted tapers, was the unhappy Eugenie de Menancourt. Her dress -was still deep mourning; and her eyes gave evident tokens of having -shed late and bitter tears: but she was now calm; and fixing her gaze -upon vacancy, seemed totally inattentive to the words which Madame de -Montpensier and her ladies, who stood round her, were pouring upon her -dull unheeding ear.</p><p class="normal">"We cannot persuade her to change her dress, Charles," said the -Duchess, pointing to the mourning in which Eugenie was clothed.</p><p class="normal">"Never mind, never mind!" replied the Prince, impatiently; "why tease -her more than necessary? Let her wear what dress she will!"</p><p class="normal">"Nay, Charles, but it is ominous," cried the Duchess; "pray speak to -her about it."</p><p class="normal">"Mademoiselle de Menancourt," said Mayenne, in a grave but not unkind -tone, "let me persuade you to change this garb, if it be but for this -night. It is unusual and ungracious to go to the marriage altar in the -robe of mourning, as if you were following some friend to the grave."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie had started at his voice, and now looking up she replied, -"Were I going willingly to the marriage altar, my Lord Duke, I would -change my garb; but what robe, but the robe of mourning, would you -have me wear, when you are about to drag me to a fate, in comparison -with which the grave itself were happiness. But, my Lord, you mistake -me. If, as I am told, marriage must depend upon consent, and that none -other is legal, my consent shall never be given to a union with the -Count d'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">"I am sorry to say, Madame," replied Mayenne, "that imperative motives -of state necessity compel me--"</p><p class="normal">Mayenne was suddenly interrupted; for, unperceived by himself, the few -servants and retainers of the old Count de Menancourt, who had, as we -have said, been suffered to remain with their young mistress, had -glided into the room one after the other, and stood ranged across the -door; and while the Duke was speaking, the principal officer of the -unhappy girl's household, indignant at the oppression exercised -towards the daughter of his beloved lord, strode forward and boldly -confronted Mayenne, as if he had been his equal. "My Lord Duke," he -said, "we will have none of this! Our young lady shall be free to give -her hand to whom she likes; and if you drag her to the altar against -her will, it shall be over our dead bodies! Nay, frown not on me, -Count d'Aubin. I have seen more stricken fields than you are years of -age; and a great man when he is doing a wicked thing is less than a -little one. But all I have to say is, that though we be but few, we -will die sooner than see our lady ill-used. Stop him in the way, -Martin," he continued, speaking to his companions as he perceived the -Count d'Aubin striding towards the door. "We have them here; but two -against us seven; and though, doubtless, we shall be hanged for it -after, we can, by one means, make sure that Mademoiselle shall never -be forced to marry a Count d'Aubin!"</p><p class="normal">Rage and fury had evidently taken possession of D'Aubin; but Mayenne, -on the contrary, listened calmly and tranquilly, with a slight smile -curling his lip, till the man had done speaking; then, pointing to the -window, he said, "Do me the favour, Monsieur d'Aubin, to call up the -guard. By the window, by the window, D'Aubin!"</p><p class="normal">"Lock the door, Martin," exclaimed the old attendant, as a comment -upon Mayenne's words; "we can settle the matter here before the guard -comes. Out with your swords, my men, and upon them!"</p><p class="normal">But Eugenie interposed: "No, no! my friends," she cried, rising; "no, -no! blood shall never be spilt on my account. Quit the room, I -beseech, I command you, and let them have their will, however -iniquitous that will may be. Only remember, that whatever may be said, -or whatever may be done, I do to the last protest, that I do not, and -that I will not, wed the Count d'Aubin; and though they may drag me to -the altar, I am not, and never shall consider myself, his wife:--leave -me, I beseech you," she added, seeing some hesitation on the part of -her attendants; "leave me, if you would not increase my sorrow," and -sinking down into her chair, she burst once more into a flood of -tears; while the attendants, still muttering and eyeing Mayenne and -his companion with somewhat doubtful glances, slowly and sullenly -quitted the apartment.</p><p class="normal">"Really, Monsieur d'Aubin," said Mayenne, in a low voice, "this should -not go forward!"</p><p class="normal">"Your promise, my Lord Duke," replied D'Aubin, drily.</p><p class="normal">"Well, well," said Mayenne, shrugging his shoulders; and then -producing a roll of parchment, he laid it on the table before Eugenie -de Menancourt, whose weeping eyes were still covered with her hands, -and said, "Mademoiselle de Menancourt, I am compelled by -circumstances, much against my inclination, to request your signature -to this contract of marriage between yourself and the Count d'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">"Never!" answered Eugenie, distinctly; "never!"</p><p class="normal">Mayenne looked towards the Count d'Aubin, who said, in a low and -hurried tone, "Never mind the contract, my Lord! let us get over the -ceremony in the chapel. That will be sufficient. Marriage is a -sacrament, you know, and that once past, it cannot be shaken off."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne paused for a moment, as if scarcely able to master the -reluctance which struggled in his bosom against the fulfilment of his -promise to the Count d'Aubin. "Where is Father Herbert?" he asked at -last; "Catherine, did you not bring him with you?"</p><p class="normal">"He is waiting us in the chapel by this time," replied Madame de -Montpensier: "some one gave him a note just as we were in the court, -and he said he would follow instantly, and join us below."</p><p class="normal">"Send down and see, Monsieur le Comte," said Mayenne: "you had better -call up some of the attendants, by means of that window," he added, -"for we may be troubled by these pugnacious peasants again; and, -indeed, I must take care that they be looked to till this business be -blown over and forgotten. You are well aware," he continued, in a low -tone, speaking to D'Aubin, "that what we are doing is contrary to the -law."</p><p class="normal">"I will take my share of the responsibility," replied the Count, -sharply; "and for your part, my Lord, if you cannot manage a -parliament which is wholly devoted to you, I am afraid you will never -be able to manage a kingdom, which is more than one half devoted to -another." Thus speaking, he approached the open window, and, in a few -words, directed some of the persons below to come up; but almost -instantly turned to Mayenne, saying, "I suppose that is your confessor -just arrived--at least I hear some one inquiring for you in great -haste apparently."</p><p class="normal">Almost as he spoke, the door opened, and the Chevalier d'Aumale -entered the saloon, followed by a person, who was evidently to be -distinguished as a priest, both by his tonsure and robe, but upon whom -Mayenne and his sister gazed as a stranger. "I beg your highness's -pardon for intruding," said Aumale; "but two things have occurred -which called upon me to wave ceremony. After leaving you, I rode on -direct to your hotel, where I found the whole world in confusion in -consequence of that insolent villain, Bussy le Clerc, having caused -your own confessor to be arrested by a party of his people within a -hundred yards of your dwelling, upon the pretence of his favouring the -Huguenots--your own confessor favouring the Huguenots!"</p><p class="normal">"I will hang that pitiful demagogue to one of the spouts in the -chatelet before many weeks are over!" said Mayenne, sternly; "but why -did you not follow and release the good father. Monsieur d'Aumale?" he -continued.</p><p class="normal">"Because, just at that moment," answered the Chevalier, "this reverend -gentleman trotted up on his mule, begging instant audience of you on -urgent business from his highness the Prince of Parma."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed! indeed!" exclaimed Mayenne; "what is your business with me, -reverend sir? I can but ill attend to it at this moment, unless it be -important indeed."</p><p class="normal">"My business is to deliver that despatch, my son," replied the priest, -placing in the hands of the Duke a sealed paper, which he instantly -tore open and read.</p><p class="normal">"Most warlike and joyful news, by a most peaceful messenger!" -exclaimed Mayenne. "Spain sends us a thousand men, Aumale, within -three days! Most joyful news, indeed! and not the less acceptable from -being conveyed to us by a minister of our holy religion."</p><p class="normal">"Glad am I to hear you say so, my noble and princely son," answered -the priest; "for his Highness of Parma, when he over persuaded me to -quit my little flock at Houdaincourt, because he fancied a cassoc -would pass more safely with the tidings than a buff belt, did mention -something about a vacant stall in the cathedral church of Cambray, and -the great love and reverence of our father, the Bishop, for your -Highness, and all your illustrious family."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, your good service, father, in the cause of the faith -shall not go without reward," replied Mayenne; "but you are just come -in time to do us another good service. Have you any objection to read -the marriage service here, and win a rich benefice for your pains?"</p><p class="normal">Eugenie had heard everything that passed, as if in a troubled dream; -and when the Chevalier d'Aumale had related the arrest of the -confessor, a momentary hope of reprieve had crossed her mind. The last -words of Mayenne, however, and the ready assent of the priest, -instantly extinguished it. The next moment it revived again, as she -heard the somewhat strangely chosen missive of the Prince of Parma -observe, "But the lady seems to be weeping! what is the cause of -that?" and a vague purpose of beseeching him not to join in the -oppression which was exercised towards her entered her thoughts. Ere -she could execute such a design, however, Mayenne, in a low voice, -directed the Count d'Aubin to take the priest out of the room, and -explain to him, as he thought best, the circumstances of the case, -promising him what reward he judged right to stop all troublesome -inquiries.</p><p class="normal">As the door opened and closed, Eugenie looked fearfully around; and -feeling that the last hope of moving any one to pity lay in the -temporary absence of him whom she regarded as her most determined -persecutor, she rose, intending to cast herself at the knees of -Mayenne, and to beseech him, by all that was noble and chivalrous in -his nature, to become her protector against the violence of others, -rather than to join in oppressing her himself. During the last two -days, however, she had undergone more mental suffering than her -corporeal frame could endure. The efforts of the last few minutes had -poured the drops of overflowing into the cup; and though by great -exertion she staggered to the spot, where Mayenne remained standing, -after speaking to the Count d'Aubin, she could not utter a word, but -fell fainting at his feet. At the same moment D'Aubin returned; and -there was a slight interval of confusion and uncertainty, some calling -for water and essences, some proposing to bear her to her own -apartment. But D'Aubin interfered. "Let us seize the present moment," -he said, "to carry her to the chapel, where we can find means of -restoring animation. One great difficulty will then be got over, and -we can proceed with the ceremony at once."</p><p class="normal">"I have often heard," said Madame de Montpensier, "that yours is a -determined nature, Monsieur d'Aubin, but I did not know how determined -till to-night."</p><p class="normal">Without noticing the sneer by any reply, D'Aubin raised the senseless -form of Eugenie de Menancourt in his arms, and followed by the rest, -bore her down one flight of stairs to the chapel, which, as usual in -many of the principal hotels of Paris at that time, was attached to -the dwelling, and independent of the parochial clergy. During his -short absence, the Count had taken care that his own followers and -those of Mayenne should clear that part of the house of the attendants -of the unhappy object of his persecution, so that, by the way, he met -with neither opposition nor inquiry. The chapel was reached, and all -was found prepared, with the priest standing at the altar.</p><p class="normal">The situation of Eugenie instantly called his attention, however, and -he exclaimed, "I cannot go on till the lady has recovered."</p><p class="normal">"Nobody wishes you, sir priest," exclaimed D'Aubin, sharply. "Some one -bring water; quick!"</p><p class="normal">This command was rendered unnecessary, however; for by this time -Eugenie was beginning to regain that miserable consciousness of the -evils that surrounded her, from which even temporary insensibility had -been a relief. Madame de Montpensier raised her head; Mayenne, in -broken and scarcely intelligible terms, endeavoured to speak a few -words of comfort; and, being lifted up before the altar, the vain -ceremony of her marriage with the Count d'Aubin was begun by the -priest, in hurried and not very distinct tones.</p><p class="normal">Rallying all her powers for one last effort, Eugenie freed herself -from the hands of those who supported her, and once more distinctly -and firmly protested her dissent from the idle rite which they were -performing. Again overpowered, however, she sank upon her knees, the -priest went on, and ere she well knew what past, the fatal ring was -upon her finger.</p><p class="normal">Snatching it off instantly, however, she cast it down upon the floor -of the chapel, and again fell back fainting into the arms of Madame de -Montpensier.</p><p class="normal">"See her carried back to her own apartments, poor girl!" cried -Mayenne; "and do you, Catherine, stay with her awhile, and comfort -her."</p><p class="normal">"Let us leave her with her own people, Charles," answered Madame de -Montpensier, comprehending better than her brother the nature of the -only solace that one in the situation of Eugenie de Menancourt could -receive. "We are all comparatively strangers to her; and the best -comfort in time of sorrow, to a woman's heart at least, is some -familiar and long-remembered face. Will you call some of her own -people, Monsieur le Comte d'Aubin?"</p><p class="normal">It was not, perhaps, from any unnatural hardness of heart that D'Aubin -was mortified by the tone of commiseration in which both Mayenne and -his sister spoke of Eugenie de Menancourt; but he felt, and could not -help feeling, that their pity for the object of his persecution was a -direct condemnation of himself. He believed also, and perhaps not -erroneously, that Madame de Montpensier, on various accounts, -experienced a degree of pleasure in rendering every particular of the -scene, in which he was so principal an actor, as painful to him as -possible; but he was a great deal too deeply skilled in the world's -ways not to struggle to prevent those feelings and suspicions from -appearing, either in an angry word, or in any attempt to make light of -the sorrows he had caused. Sending for some of Eugenie's attendants, -therefore, he gave her over into their hands; directing them, in a -grave and earnest tone, and with the air of one who now had a right to -command, to bear her up to her usual apartments slowly and gently, and -use instant means to recall her to consciousness. "Perhaps, madame," -he added, turning to the Duchess, "you would at least watch the -applications of remedies to promote her recovery, as these good people -may be more affectionate than skilful."</p><p class="normal">"I will do so with pleasure, Monsieur le Comte," replied Madame de -Montpensier; "but I will retire as soon as I perceive that animation -is returning; for I am sure the sight of any one who has mingled in -the horrible scenes through which the unhappy girl has just passed -will, for a long fill her with terror and abhorrence."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin bit his lip, but made no reply; and Madame de Montpensier in -silence followed the attendants, who bore the insensible form of their -young mistress out of the chapel.</p><p class="normal">"And now, Monsieur le Comte," said Mayenne, "it must be time, I think, -for you to put your foot in the stirrup, and ride to make those -preparations which we spoke of yesterday."</p><p class="normal">"A few moments more, my good lord," replied D'Aubin, with a cynical -smile. "Your Highness has so scrupulously fulfilled your part of the -engagement, that you need be under no fear lest I should fail in mine. -But ere I go, I must ask this worthy priest to give me a regular -certification of my marriage with Eugenie de Menancourt, otherwise the -retainers of her house may refuse to acknowledge the authority which -it is so necessary for the interests of your Highness that I should be -fully enabled to exercise."</p><p class="normal">"You are right," replied Mayenne, calmly. "Be so good, reverend -father, to draw up the document required. The names are, Philip Count -d'Aubin, and Eugenie Lady of Menancourt and of Beaumont en Maine."</p><p class="normal">In the little room which answered the purpose of a sacristy, materials -for writing were soon procured, and the priest sat down to prepare the -certification which was to place D'Aubin in possession of the property -he had so unjustly acquired.</p><p class="normal">"You are somewhat slow, sir priest," said the haughty noble, -perceiving that every now and then he paused, and seemed to think of -what he should say next; "you are somewhat slow, as if you had never -drawn a certificate before."</p><p class="normal">"I generally do leave it to the sacristan," replied the priest, -mildly: "but that was not what made me hesitate, my son. I pondered -whether I should insert that the marriage was against the lady's -will;" and a sly, though half-suppressed smile played about his lips, -and put D'Aubin to silence.</p><p class="normal">Mayenne however replied: "No, no, good father," he said; "make it as -brief and as simple as possible. We need no comments."</p><p class="normal">The priest accordingly concluded his task; and D'Aubin taking the -certificate, glanced his eye hastily over its contents, and then -turning to Mayenne, he said, "Now, my lord, I make all speed to Maine, -leaving my bride in your hands, and trusting to find on my return, -that during my absence, you have used more eloquence in my favour, -than you have thought fit to do to-night in my presence."</p><p class="normal">"I will do all that I can, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied Mayenne, with -calm dignity, "to efface from her mind the impression which this night -must have left, to overcome objections founded on former conduct, of -which I know nothing; and to reconcile her to her fate, which she does -not at all appear to consider the less bitter because it is -inevitable."</p><p class="normal">Both the Count d'Aubin and the Duke of Mayenne felt that, under -existing circumstances, the fewer words that passed between them the -less was likely to be the diminution of their friendship. Each had in -a considerable degree a hold over the other; for D'Aubin, possessing -an extended right of command over the lands of Eugenie de Menancourt, -was too powerful to be alienated from the League; and yet, on the -other hand, retaining possession of the person of Eugenie de -Menancourt, Mayenne held D'Aubin to his faction, by a bond that it -would have been dangerous for him to break. D'Aubin, therefore, curbed -the anger which during the whole evening had been gathering in his -bosom, and merely bowing in reply to the last words of the Duke, -quitted the chapel, mounted his horse, and galloped off, followed by -his attendants.</p><p class="normal">"And now, my good father," said Mayenne, "return with me to the Hotel -de Guise, and we will speak over this letter from the Prince of Parma, -and his promise regarding the stall in Cambray."</p><p class="normal">"May it please your Highness," replied the priest, "as you are on -horseback and I am on foot--for I left my mule at the door of your -hotel--I will follow you with all speed, if you will leave some one to -show me the way, for I cannot boast much acquaintance with the -topography of this vast and labyrinth-like city."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, so be it," replied Mayenne. "But now, I think of it, my -sister, the Duchess of Montpensier--that lady, who was here just now," -he added, "will bring you with her in her coach. It will hold ten with -ease, and she has but four ladies with her. Wait here, and I will tell -some of the attendants to let you know when she comes down."</p><p class="normal">The priest bowed his head, and Mayenne departing, left a message for -his sister, and rode back to the Hotel do Guise. Not long after the -carriage of Madame de Montpensier rolled into the court, and the -Duchess instantly sought her brother's cabinet.</p><p class="normal">"One of your grooms told me, Charles," she said, "that I was to bring -the priest with me."</p><p class="normal">"Certainly," replied the Duke. "Have you not done so?"</p><p class="normal">"No," she answered, "I have not, because I could not find him. We -sought everywhere, in the chapel and the sacristy, and over all the -lower part of the house; but he had evidently gone away, and left the -door of the chapel open behind him."</p><p class="normal">"The foolish man has mistaken me, then," said Mayenne; "but it matters -not. He will not be long in finding me out, for he has not got his -reward for either of the two services he has rendered to-night; and if -I may judge by his face, he is not a man to perform either the one or -the other for the love of God. So we shall hear of him ere half an -hour be over, depend upon it." And he turned the conversation to the -distressing scene in which he had so unwillingly played a part.</p><p class="normal">In regard to the priest, however, Mayenne was mistaken. The night -passed over without his appearance; and the following morning, as the -Duke was making inquiries concerning him, he was interrupted by news -of a different nature, in regard to which we must give some previous -explanation.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">When Eugenie de Menancourt, slowly and painfully, returned to -consciousness of life and sorrow, she found herself in the saloon in -which she usually sat, and in the arms of her own women. Gazing -fearfully around, she sought to discover where the forms of those who -so lately surrounded her were now concealed; and as she satisfied -herself that there was no one present but her own attendants, her -bewildered imagination almost led her to hope, that the terrible -scenes she had gone through were nothing but the phantasms of some -horrible dream. Gradually, however, memory recalled every circumstance -with too painful a degree of accuracy to admit of her indulging any -longer in such a happy delusion; and now, unrestrained by the presence -of any but those whom she knew and loved, she gave way to all the -bitter sorrow that swelled her heart, and burst into a long and silent -flood of tears. The tears seemed to relieve her; but the words which -one of her young attendants whispered in her ear tended more than all -to afford consolation, and to revive almost extinguished hope.</p><p class="normal">"Do not weep so bitterly, lady, do not weep so bitterly," said the -girl. "He is gone, and may not return for months!"</p><p class="normal">"Who is gone?" exclaimed Eugenie, starting up, and hurriedly wiping -the tears from her eyes, that she might gaze the more intently upon -the speaker. "Who is gone? Who may not return for months?"</p><p class="normal">"The Count d'Aubin, lady," replied the girl. "Madame de Montpensier -bade me tell you so, and gave me this note to be delivered to you, -when you were well enough to read it."</p><p class="normal">"Give it to me--give it to me now," cried Eugenie; and tearing it -open, she held it to the light, gazing with eager eyes upon the -contents. It was very brief, but almost every word spoke comfort, for -they went to inform her that the Count d'Aubin, on business of -importance, had been obliged to set off for Maine; that the period of -his return was not decided, but that it certainly could not take place -before the end of the month, while it might be delayed longer; and -though the conclusion of the letter went to say, that both the Duke of -Mayenne and Madame de Montpensier trusted that, ere the Count's -return, Mademoiselle de Menancourt would have made up her mind to -receive him as her husband, and to sign the formal contract of -marriage, yet the intelligence of his absence was a reprieve; and -imagination fondly clinging to the uncertainty of the future, at once -renewed hope in her bosom.</p><p class="normal">With hope came back the spirit of exertion which had been crushed -beneath despair. Dropping the note upon the table, as the lightning -progress of thought ran on in an instant from one object to another, -she clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Where, where! can Beatrice of -Ferrara be? She must be ill, or she would have come to me, I am sure."</p><p class="normal">"Shall we send, and see, lady?" demanded one of the women.</p><p class="normal">"Yes, yes! do so," replied Eugenie, "and leave me alone for half an -hour; I would fain think--I would fain consider what is best to be -done! I am better, indeed I am better now," she added, seeing the -women look at her with some hesitation. "Stay in the ante-room, and I -will call, if I want you."</p><p class="normal">The women obeyed; and Eugenie, leaning on the table, covered her eyes -with her hands, and remained endeavouring to reduce, to some definite -and feasible plan, the vague hopes of relief which she had again -conceived. But the effects of the agitation she had suffered still -remained, and she found it impossible to fix her thoughts upon the -future, so perseveringly did they wander back to the past.</p><p class="normal">In this state, she had continued about five or ten minutes, when the -sound of creaking hinges made her raise her eyes. The door which led -into the ante-room was shut, as well as that which gave egress, at -once, upon the staircase; but on the other side of the room there was -another door, which communicated with an unoccupied part of the house, -looking into a back street which led away towards the Faubourg St. -Antoine; and when Eugenie turned her eyes in that direction, she -started up with surprise, and some degree of alarm, on perceiving it -gently and slowly drawn back. Remembering, however, that her -attendants were in the ante-room, she paused, to see what would be the -result, suppressing the exclamation which had nearly burst from her -lips.</p><p class="normal">The sight that the open door presented, when farther drawn back, was -certainly one which in no degree diminished her surprise, but at the -same time added nothing to her alarm; for the person who opened it was -alone; nor was he one whose appearance was calculated to inspire -terror. It was the figure of a youth, apparently not more than fifteen -years of age, that now presented itself, carrying a lamp in one hand, -and unclosing the door with the other. His dress was of the gay and -splendid costume of the court of Henry III. and from under his -high-crowned beaver, and its manifold ostrich feathers, the bright and -glossy curls of his coal-black hair fell round as handsome a face as -ever was beheld. A large cloak was wrapped about his arm, and -riding-boots pushed down to the ankles, as was then customary, seemed -to indicate that he either came from or was bound upon a journey; and -as Eugenie gazed upon him, she concluded at once that he was some page -attached to the Count d'Aubin, who, sent with some message or letter -ere his lord's departure, had either by accident or design passed by -that part of the dwelling which was for the time out of use. As soon -as this conviction struck her, she rose to call in her women, but the -youth held up his hand with a gesture which was easily interpreted -into an entreaty to be silent; and Eugenie again paused, saying in a -low tone, "What do you seek here, sir? Do not advance, or I must call -my servants!"</p><p class="normal">The youth, however, did still advance, but with an air of deprecation -and gentleness, that took away all fear; and when, within a step, he -placed the lamp on the table, and bent one knee to the ground, Eugenie -gazed upon him with doubt and astonishment; but a confused and -uncertain hope began to take possession of her mind, as the boy raised -her hand to his lips, and then, as he glided his arms round her waist, -and, with the jetty curls of his hair mingling with her light-brown -locks, kissed her tenderly on either cheek, the fair girl's face -dropped upon her new companion's shoulder, and with a flood of tears -she exclaimed, "Oh! Beatrice, Beatrice! why did you not come sooner?"</p><p class="normal">"I did come sooner," replied Beatrice of Ferrara--or Leonard de Monte, -as the reader will,--"I did come sooner, my dear Eugenie. I did come -sooner! and have been in these apartments all the evening, directing -everything that has passed in all this sad scene, though those who -were actors therein knew nothing of the prompter. I could not come to -console you, my Eugenie, nor to give you one word of comfort and -assurance, lest I should be discovered by all the spies and messengers -who were going to and fro about this house during the whole of -yesterday; but I arranged the only means of saving you, and, making my -way into the house by the back street, watched till I saw my plan -executed, and then came to bear you away to a place of greater -security."</p><p class="normal">"But, alas, alas! your plan has failed," replied Eugenie. "The fatal -ring has been upon my finger."</p><p class="normal">"Fear not! fear not!" replied Beatrice, with a smile. "That ring binds -you to nothing, Eugenie. Such a marriage is lawful in no land under -the sun; and I took care that there should be plenty of witnesses to -prove, hereafter, that your consent was refused to the last."</p><p class="normal">"I know," replied Eugenie, "I know that such a marriage cannot be -legal; and I would sooner die than ever render it so. But still, -Beatrice, still a ceremony has taken place; and though I will not be -his wife, yet I can never, never feel myself free again!"</p><p class="normal">"Yes, yes, you can," replied Beatrice, with one of her gay smiles; -"yes, you can be free as ever to give this fair hand to any one in the -wide world you choose."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie shook her head; but Beatrice drew her arms closer around her, -saying, "Well, well, you little infidel, if you will not believe me -without farther proof, hear the secret of it all--but I dare not speak -it aloud, lest the very spirits of the air should catch it, ere the -poor man get back to the Huguenot camp; for they would burn him alive -in the Place de Greve, if they caught him; and the two thousand -pistoles which bribed him to the adventure would be but cold comfort -in the midst of the flames;" and putting her lips close to Eugenie's -ear, she whispered one or two words in a tone so low, that -Mademoiselle de Menancourt herself might rather be said to divine -their meaning than to hear them distinctly. That she understood them -fully, however, was evident; for the light of joy instantly broke over -her countenance; and clasping her hands together, while she raised her -eyes towards heaven, she exclaimed, "Then I am saved indeed!"</p><p class="normal">At that moment, the door from the ante-room suddenly opened, and -Beatrice started up from the position in which she had remained ever -since her first entrance into the room, while Eugenie turned a -terrified glance towards the door. It was only one of her women, -however, who entered; and, contrary to her mistress's expectations, -she evinced no surprise at the sight of Beatrice of Ferrara, disguised -in the manner we have described.</p><p class="normal">"She knows it all, Eugenie," said Beatrice, "for it was by her means I -obtained admission."</p><p class="normal">"I suppose, madam," said the waiting-woman, with a smile, "that I need -scarcely tell you that Jean Baptiste has returned, with the news that -Mademoiselle de Ferrara is still absent from home, and is not expected -for many days."</p><p class="normal">"But why did you not tell me, Caroline," demanded Eugenie, "that she -was here? It would have saved me many a miserable moment. If I had -known that she was in this house, I should never have lost hope that -all would go right."</p><p class="normal">"But it was impossible to tell you, lady," replied the waiting-woman; -"for the Duchess de Montpensier sent us all away; and after she was -gone, I could not say what I knew, because your other women were with -you."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well," said Beatrice, "we have matters of more importance to -think of now, Eugenie: we will keep all explanations for an aftertime, -when you and I, in some little cottage, far away from these scenes of -strife, want conversation to pass away the hours till the storm has -worked itself out, and the sky is once more clear. And now, sweet sister -of my heart, call up all your courage, summon all your resolution, for -we must lose no time, but make the best of our way out of this hateful -city. Ere to-morrow morning be two hours' old, Mayenne will have -discovered that he has been cheated; and though Philip d'Aubin be by -that time beyond recall, his Highness the lieutenant-general, and the -Holy League, even if they find not out all the windings of our plot, -will take such measures for your security, that all after efforts will -be vain."</p><p class="normal">"Oh! I will do anything! I will fly anywhere!" replied Eugenie. "I -have courage, I have resolution for any effort. The worst that can -befall me is death; and I would rather die a thousand times than be -the bride of Philip d'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">Beatrice smiled, half sorrowfully, half playfully. "He is not reputed, -my fair Eugenie," she said, "to be so very hateful, as you seem to -think."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie blushed deeply, pained to believe that her undisguised -abhorrence of the Count d'Aubin might have wounded the feelings of one -whom she loved so much as Beatrice of Ferrara--one who, she well knew, -was not indifferent to the man whom she herself so deeply detested. "I -mean not to say that he is so hateful in himself, Beatrice," she -replied; "but has not he given me good reason to hate him? Perhaps I -might have loved him, too, if--"</p><p class="normal">"If you had not loved another," interrupted Beatrice, with a smile. -"But we have not time for all that either," she added; "and will talk -of it, too, another day. At this moment we have other things on hand. -You, my good Caroline, bring your mistress some refreshments quickly; -but take care that no one else enters while you are gone."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed, Beatrice, I need no refreshment," said Eugenie, rising. "Joy -at my deliverance, and hope for the future, will give me strength and -support to go any length of way; and I am ready, quite ready, to set -out directly."</p><p class="normal">Beatrice smiled. "I will command to-day," she said; "Caroline, do as I -bid you! Alas, my poor Eugenie, you have much to do, ere you can set -out, for the danger lies at our threshold; and when once I have led -you twenty yards in safety from the door of this house, I shall think -the battle half won at least."</p><p class="normal">"What, then, is it that you fear?" demanded Eugenie, eagerly.</p><p class="normal">"Delay, above all things!" answered Beatrice; "for though, I trust, -our plot has been too well laid to be discovered immediately, yet -there is always danger where there is anything concealed. First, then, -Eugenie, you must change your dress, and take such a one as will most -completely disguise you, should you be sought for more speedily than -we suppose."</p><p class="normal">"I know not where to find any dress but my own," replied Eugenie. -"What dress would you have me to take, Beatrice?--Though, now I think -of it," she added suddenly; "one of my maids has her own country -costume with her,--a white petticoat, and a red open gown above it, -with----"</p><p class="normal">"Impossible! impossible!" exclaimed Beatrice. "It would betray you at -once. Remember, my dear Eugenie, that I go with you; and though in the -streets of Paris they might but think that the gay page was deceiving -the country girl with a tale of love, that would not do beyond the -gates. I once thought of a nun's dress for you, which would do very -well in the city also; but one must care for other things than those -of the mere present; and recollect that if I, dressed as a bold youth, -and you, dressed as a pretty nun, were seen getting into either coach -or litter together, we should have the ecclesiastical officers at our -heels. No, no, Eugenie! we must have some dress for you which will -neither attract attention in the city, nor beyond the walls; which -will tell its own tale, and, by sparing all inquiries, conceal our sex -and character without an effort."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, not a man's dress!" exclaimed Eugenie, imploringly.</p><p class="normal">"None other, indeed!" answered Beatrice, smiling; "but knowing the -timid shyness of that heart which pretends to be so bold, I have -chosen one for you, Eugenie, which will hide your person as -effectually as the fullest robe that ever woman wore, which will -accord with a smooth cheek and a demure look, and which will yet admit -of your travelling in company with a bold page. Come and see! for I -have brought it here along with me."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, Beatrice of Ferrara took her hand, and led her through -the same passage by which she herself had entered, to a room wherein -she had lain concealed during the time that the other apartments were -occupied by the party assembled for that sad bridal. There, on one of -the old oaken chairs, lay the robes of a young abbé in complete -costume; not such as that costume appeared in after years, when the -gradual blending of the dress of different orders permitted the -aspirants to ecclesiastical stations to assume habiliments only -distinguished from those of the laity by colour; but full, ample, and -flowing, and offering to Eugenie that modest concealment for her fair -form, to which even she, under existing circumstances, could not -object. Deeply sensible of the kind and delicate appreciation of all -her feelings, which Beatrice--whose wilder and more daring nature -scoffed at such scruples in her own instance--had displayed in this -choice of her disguise, Eugenie was eagerly thanking her for all her -consideration; but her friend cut her short, to hasten her new and -unusual toilet, taking care, however, as indeed she had hitherto done, -to avoid, even by any eager hurry, alarming her more timid companion -in the outset of their perilous undertaking.</p><p class="normal">The dress, chosen by an experienced eye, fitted admirably in every -respect, with the exception of the shoes, which were far too large for -Eugenie's small feet. The robe, however, was sufficiently long to -conceal this defect, in a great degree; and, when all was complete, -Beatrice gazed over the changed appearance of her fair friend with a -smile of gay satisfaction.</p><p class="normal">"Well, Eugenie," she exclaimed, "certainly you are the prettiest -little abbé that ever was seen; but, nevertheless, you will do -admirably. Only remember not to uncover your head, for your ringlets -will betray you. See how I manage mine! I can pull off my hat without -fear; cannot you do the same? Only cut off those two lower curls at -the side; they will grow again in a month."</p><p class="normal">"I will cut them off altogether, with all my heart," answered Eugenie. -But her friend assured her that such a sacrifice of her bright locks -was not necessary; and showing her how she herself contrived to -conceal in one mass her own profusion of dark hair, she soon put that -of Mademoiselle de Menancourt into the same form, but still bade her -uncover her head as little as possible, lest the want of all tonsure -should call attention, and betray her disguise.</p><p class="normal">"And now, Eugenie, take some refreshment," said Beatrice; "meat to -give you strength,--for you may have far to walk ere morning--and wine -to give you courage; for, after all, I doubt the resolution of that -little heart; and depend upon it, that the only sure means of carrying -through a great undertaking is to begin boldly, and go on without -stopping. But I hear your girl, Caroline, in the other room; she had -better bring the refreshments in here, lest we should be interrupted."</p><p class="normal">Beatrice, accordingly, called the maid in; and not small was the -girl's astonishment to behold the transformation that had taken place -in the person of her mistress during her short absence. Beatrice, -however, suffered no exclamations; and while Eugenie, whose appetite -had not been increased by all the events of the night, took what -refreshment she could, her friend proceeded to give directions to the -<i>suivante</i> concerning the course that was to be pursued after her -mistress's departure.</p><p class="normal">"In case any one returns to the house to-night," she said, "seeking -the priest, all you have to reply is, that you know nothing about him, -and that your mistress is in her own chamber in deep grief. I do not -think, however, that any one will come; and, in that case, by eight -o'clock to-morrow--for Mayenne does not rise before--go yourself to -Madame de Montpensier, and with a grave and serious face ask to see -your mistress, adding, before she can answer you that you have brought -her such apparel as she may stand in need of for the morning. Mind, -you must not move a muscle of your face! She will instantly be all -astonishment, and ask if you are mad; then tell her that, about this -hour to-night, a gay page and a young abbé came here saying, that they -brought a letter from her Highness, and took your mistress away with -them, as if to the Hotel de Guise, to which place you were directed to -bring various things the next morning. Will not that do Eugenie?" she -continued, turning to her friend, "and am I not fit to be a general of -reitters?"</p><p class="normal">Eugenie smiled, but replied, "Suppose they do not believe her, -Beatrice, and send to examine the other servants?"</p><p class="normal">"Oh! I am prepared for all that," replied Beatrice. "As soon as ever -we are gone, send the women to bed, good Caroline, and dispatch the -greater part of the men upon different errands: you can direct two of -them to my house, bidding them wait till my return. One you can send -to the Count d'Aubin's, to inquire whether he has really set out for -Maine; and while these are gone, explain yourself to those whom you -can best trust amongst the others, telling them simply, that if any -inquiries are made, they have merely to keep to the same story about -the abbé and the page which you are going to tell."</p><p class="normal">"But suppose we are asked to describe the abbé and the page, lady, -what are we to do then?" demanded the woman.</p><p class="normal">"Why, describe them, to be sure," replied Beatrice. "Here we are, take -an exact picture of us. You cannot do better; and if you say, that -your mistress went away in our company, you will but say the truth. -Now I bethink me, you may as well add, that you think you have seen -the page somewhere before, and rather believe that he is in the -service of the Count d'Aubin--which is true too, Eugenie, when all -things are wisely considered, though we are serving him against his -will. But now, my pretty abbé--I shall call you Eugene for the -future--we must lose no more time. Run down, Caroline, and see that -the door at the foot of the back stairs is open, and give a glance -round the court-yard, to make sure that it is clear."</p><p class="normal">The girl, with a ready promptitude in man[oe]uvring, for which French -<i>soubrettes</i> are not unjustly famed, required no farther explanations, -having that internal consciousness of great resources of intrigue, -which rendered her quite confident of being able to make up a new -story, or to mend the old one for the occasion, in case anything in -Beatrice's plan went wrong. Tripping away then through the unused -apartments, to the back staircase that led out into the court, she -descended to the bottom, and gently unclosing the door, to the extent -of about a hand's breadth, closed it again as quietly, and returned to -the two ladies with the unpleasant tidings, that all the male -attendants belonging to the house were standing under the arch of the -<i>porte-cochčre</i>, apparently talking over the events of the evening.</p><p class="normal">"Get ye down then, Caroline, to the <i>maītre de hōtel</i>," cried -Beatrice; "bid him express your mistress's thanks to the honest -fellows for their attachment; and tell him, in her name, to call them -into some room, where their voices will not be heard by the spies of -the League, and to give them each a bottle of the best Burgundy, to -drink to their lady's health and deliverance, and confusion to her -enemies and persecutors."</p><p class="normal">With a smile at the lady's readiness and resources, the <i>soubrette</i> -ran off to obey; and in a few minutes returned with the better news, -that all the men were safely housed, with bottles before them which -would occupy them for some time. Beatrice then drew Eugenie's arm -through her own, and led the way towards the staircase, followed by -the <i>suivante</i>, for the purpose of closing the doors behind them.</p><p class="normal">Eugenie felt that her happiness for life was at stake; that she was -taking the only means to save herself from oppression, persecution, -and, in all probability, ultimate misery. She felt that the object was -worth any exertion; that if ever she displayed energy, resolution, and -courage, this was the moment in which they were all most needed: and -yet it were vain to say, that her heart did not palpitate; that her -knees did not shake; and that her trembling hand did not feel like a -piece of ice, even in the midst of a hot and sultry night of August.</p><p class="normal">Beatrice perceived her agitation; and, though her own firm heart did -not share in her friend's terrors, she felt for her deeply, and -endeavoured to support her by every means in her power. "Fear not, -dear Eugenie!" she said, "fear not! Be assured that ere I came hither, -I took every means to ensure success; and that we shall not pass along -two hundred yards of the way without finding some one stationed by me -to aid and protect us in case of need. I have spared neither gold nor -thought, Eugenie; and, in this world, gold, and thought, and courage, -will do everything; so there wants nothing but the courage, my fair -friend, and that you must try to have."</p><p class="normal">"I will! I will!" whispered Eugenie in return. "But, indeed, Beatrice, -I cannot but find it terrible to go out thus alone into the streets of -a strange, turbulent, vicious city, in the dress of a different sex, -and with no one but another girl to guide and protect me!"</p><p class="normal">"Not terrible at all," replied Beatrice. "It is but what many a gay -light heart would do for a jest, and many a base heart for a worse -purpose. It is only on account of the great stake we are playing for, -that you feel terrified, Eugenie; but that, on the contrary, should -give you courage."</p><p class="normal">By this time they had reached the top of the back staircase, the -narrowness of which obliged them to descend one by one. Beatrice, -holding the lamp, led the way, and Eugenie followed. At the bottom of -the stairs, the fair Italian, telling the maid who accompanied them -that she must find her way back in the dark, blew out the light, and -gently unclosed the door. The moment she did so, the summer air rushed -in; and though it was as soft and warm as the breath of southern -spring, it felt chill to Eugenie's cheek, while the rolling sound of -carriage-wheels, in some distant street, made her shrink back upon the -maid as if she were already detected. Beatrice glanced her eye quickly -around the court, and seeing that it was vacant, took Eugenie's hand -to lead her on. The maid, at the same time, feeling sure that her -mistress would gain more courage as soon as all means of retreat were -cut off, kissed her affectionately on either cheek, by way of -leave-taking, and gently supported her forward till she was actually in -the court, then suddenly closed the door; and Eugenie heard the lock -turn within. For a moment her heart sunk; but making a great effort, -and recalling the image of the Count d'Aubin, she hurried forward with -Beatrice across the court to a small door which opened into the back -street.</p><p class="normal">When one is in haste there is always some impediment. The door was -locked, and though the key was in it, it fell out of Beatrice's hand -as she attempted to turn it, and rattled on the pavement. Some moments -passed ere it could be found again, during which time Eugenie's -courage waned fast. At length, however, the key was recovered, and -placed in the lock, but ere the door was opened, some one rang the -bell at the front gate. Eugenie felt as if her fate was sealed, and -clung to the doorway for support. Luckily, however, no servant loves -to obey the summons of a bell; and Eugenie's attendants, happy in -their Burgundy, resolved that the visitor should ring again. Ere that -occurred, Beatrice, with a steady hand, had turned the lock, the door -opened; and springing through after her friend, Eugenie de Menancourt -stood in the streets of Paris.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIV.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Taking Eugenie by the arm to give some support to her tottering frame, -Beatrice hurried on, and they reached the end of the street in safety. -As they were turning into another, however, a man who was walking -slowly on the other side of the way paused to mark them in their -advance towards him, and seemingly attracted by a certain degree of -agitation as well as haste in their demeanour, crossed over and -accosted them:--</p><p class="normal">"What now, my young rovers!" he exclaimed. "Whither away so fast? Some -intrigue, I warrant!"</p><p class="normal">"What is it to you?" demanded Beatrice, turning towards him fiercely, -while she still hurried on, holding up the trembling form of her timid -friend. "If no one meddles with your intrigues, meddle you with no -one's either."</p><p class="normal">"What is it to me!" cried the stranger. "Do you not perceive that I am -the captain of the quarter? and I doubt you have been about some -notorious evil, by your haste and this young lad's trembling;" and, as -he spoke, he laid a somewhat rude grasp upon Eugenie's arm.</p><p class="normal">"By the blessed Union, and the holy catholic faith!" exclaimed -Beatrice, in a tone that made the man start back, "if you hold his arm -another moment, I will drive my dagger into you, twice as far as Saint -Jacques Clement did the other day into the tyrant at St. Cloud;" and, -without hesitation, she drew the weapon out of its sheath, and brought -the gleaming blade so near the man's breast that he dropped Eugenie's -arm, and laid his hand upon his sword.</p><p class="normal">Bursting into a loud laugh, Beatrice taunted him with his fright; and -putting up her dagger, hurried on, diverting the stranger's attention -by raillery, till at the corner of another street, Eugenie saw her -raise her two fingers in the moonlight, and the next moment a man -sprang out from a gateway on the dark side of the way; and running -forward as fast as possible, as if intending to pass them, he rushed -full against their undesired companion, and laid him prostrate in the -gutter in the middle of the street. Then taking the first word of -quarrel, he stopped and turned to abuse the fallen man for not getting -out of his way, while Beatrice and her companion hurried on, and were -soon at a distance from the scene of strife.</p><p class="normal">"Matthew managed that well!" exclaimed Beatrice, when she thought -herself at a sufficient distance to pause and take breath; "I must -promote that fellow to some better office for his skill."</p><p class="normal">"Then that was one of your own people?" said Eugenie, with her -confidence in the success of their endeavour somewhat strengthened by -every new proof of the foresight and precaution which her fair -companion had used to ensure support. "But what if the captain of the -quarter calls up the guard, and takes him into custody?"</p><p class="normal">"Captain of the quarter!" she exclaimed, with a laugh, "and did you -believe that? Do you not know that, in these times, every one assumes -what name he pleases? Captain of the quarter, indeed! Rather some -<i>filou</i> or some <i>escroc</i>, who seeing two youths fresh from an idle -scrape, as he thought, fancied he could lay a tribute on their purse -as the price of his silence and departure."</p><p class="normal">Still hurrying on, Beatrice of Ferrara led the way through a number of -streets towards the gates of the city; but, warned by their late -adventure, she no longer proceeded at such a rapid pace. Assuming, on -the contrary, somewhat of a swagger in her air, yet still holding -Eugenie firm by the arm, she walked along, displaying no bad imitation -of the vastly important demeanour of some noble page, who, just -liberated from his mother's careful eye, overlays the inexperienced -timidity of youth with affected self-confidence.</p><p class="normal">More than once quitting the quieter and less frequented streets, -Beatrice was obliged to lead the way into others, through which the -human tide that rarely ebbs entirely in the city of Paris, was still -flowing on, though the hour was approaching to midnight. Eugenie's -heart beat quick at every fresh group that they encountered, and many -a pang crossed her bosom, and many an unseen blush passed over her -cheek, at some of the scenes that she thus for the first time -witnessed in the streets of the metropolis. Twice as they walked -along, Beatrice paused for a moment to speak a single word to persons -who seemed to be common passengers, and Eugenie, whose timid glance -was frequently cast behind, remarked that the men to whom her -companion spoke turned and followed at the distance of a few paces. At -length, as they approached the extremity of the Faubourg St. Germain, -Beatrice whispered in her ear, "It will be impossible to pass the -gates at this hour of the night, and, therefore, we must take shelter -till the morning begins to dawn in a place of refuge which I have -prepared."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie expressed her willingness to do anything her companion thought -fit; and in a few moments Beatrice stopped opposite to a small house -in the suburb, and pushing the door which was open, led the way in. -All was darkness within; and Eugenie, though she had the most perfect -confidence in her friend, felt her terror increased at the aspect of -the place. Taking her hand, however, Beatrice led her on, up a narrow -staircase, and through a still narrower passage, to a door at which -she knocked for admittance. It was instantly opened, and the next -moment Eugenie found herself in a neat, plainly furnished room, where -two of Beatrice's women, whom she had frequently seen before, stood -ready to receive them. The moment they had entered, Beatrice cast her -arms round her; and kissing her tenderly, exclaimed, "Now, my sweet -friend, I trust we are safe; to-morrow morning, I think, we shall be -able to pass the gates without obstruction, and the rest of our -expedition will be easy."</p><p class="normal">"Thank God!" cried Eugenie, sinking down into her seat. "Thank God! -and next to him, Beatrice, I have to thank you!"</p><p class="normal">"Spare your thanks to me, Eugenie," cried her companion, "till we have -reached the end of our journey. I will then try to hear them with -patience. But now, I dare say, you will think it strange that I have -not taken you to my own house, instead of bringing you here. But I -have three sufficient reasons for not doing so. First, because on many -accounts they might suspect you of flying to me; secondly, because we -are here much nearer to the gate, and, thirdly, for a reason, Eugenie, -that you would scarcely suspect, which is, that I did not choose any -of the gossiping fraternity should say they had seen two gay-looking -youths enter the house of Beatrice of Ferrara at night, and remain -there till morning shone. So you see, Eugenie, that I, even I, am not -without fears of scandal; I who have not scrupled, when my purpose -served, to go disguised as I am now, and live disguised in the house -of a strange man. Ay, Eugenie I do not look so horrified, for I was -as safe there as in my own chamber. I was surrounded by own -attendants, whom I had contrived by one means or another to force into -his service. He was too simple and unsuspicious to suspect me, and -even had he discovered me, was too noble-minded to have misused his -advantage."</p><p class="normal">"You do not mean," exclaimed Eugenie, "you do not mean surely the----"</p><p class="normal">"Not the Count d'Aubin!" exclaimed Beatrice, with a blush that spread -like lightning over her cheek, and forehead, and temples; "not the -Count d'Aubin! I would not have trusted myself within his gates in -this guise for millions of kingdoms. No, not to have obtained a -century of the brightest happiness that ever yet shone upon the path -of mortal!"</p><p class="normal">"I did not mean him," replied Eugenie, smiling; "I meant the Marquis -of St. Real."</p><p class="normal">"Then you have divined more shrewdly than I thought you would," -replied Beatrice. "But I will tell you all that story another time," -she added, quitting suddenly a subject on which she evidently wished -to speak, but did not know well how to proceed. "What was I saying? -Oh! that I feared to have two gay-looking youths seen to enter my -house at this hour; but the fact is, Eugenie, I have found that by -caution and propriety, and determination in certain things, I have -acquired, as it were, a right prescriptive to be as wild, and as -daring, and as unhesitating as I like in all others,--but now, my fair -friend, let us think of the present moment. You have four good hours -to rest yourself ere we set out. In yonder room you will find a bed; -and one of my girls shall sit by you, while you lie down to repose, if -you are afraid of sleeping in a strange apartment. Yet stay, I must -have those delicate shoes of yours; for ere we set out to-morrow, we -shall need a pair more conformable to your dress, and must send a -model to my own shoemaker, who perhaps may have some that will fit. He -is accustomed to my whims; and will not mind being roused out of his -bed to serve me. In the meantime, I must change my dress and hasten -away; for I am determined to show myself, if but for an hour, at the -fete given to-night by old Madame de Gondi, so as to turn away all -suspicion from the right direction. I will be back long ere it be time -to set out to-morrow."</p><p class="normal">Exhausted with all she had gone through, grief, terror, mental -exertion, and corporeal fatigue, Eugenie de Menancourt gladly availed -herself of the opportunity of repose. Casting off her upper robe, but -without undressing herself farther, she lay down to rest. She did not -refuse, however, the attendance of one of Beatrice's women; for danger -and terror, instead of losing their effect on her mind by custom, had -only rendered her more timid and apprehensive.</p><p class="normal">For more than an hour, agitation prevented Eugenie from sleeping; but -towards two o'clock weariness prevailed, and she sunk into profound -slumber. It seemed scarcely a moment, however, ere she was roused by -some one touching her arm; and she found Beatrice standing beside her, -while the grey light that found its way into the room through the open -window showed that she had slept longer than she imagined.</p><p class="normal">"It is time for us to depart, Eugenie," said her friend, "and -unwillingly I must break your short repose; but I see the market carts -coming in; showing both that the gates are open, and that the siege of -Paris is not only raised in name but in reality. We must make the best -of our time, Eugenie; for in five hours more your absence may be -discovered."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie de Menancourt needed no admonitions to haste. Her dress was -soon resumed, her shoes tried on and found to fit tolerably, her hair -re-arranged so as to conceal its length; and once more taking -Beatrice's arm, she proceeded down the narrow staircase to the door of -the house, where, stretched upon some benches in the passage, lay two -or three men in different costumes, who instantly started upon their -feet as the two maskers approached.</p><p class="normal">"Do not come out," said Beatrice, stopping to speak with them, "but -look forth from the side window where you can see the gate. If I hold -up my handkerchief, run up to help us; and, good faith, you must even -risk a hard blow or two, should need be; but if you see Andrew join -us, or if I do not hold up my handkerchief, be sure that all is safe, -and return home with the women."</p><p class="normal">The men bowed and made way; and Eugenie, accompanying her companion -through the doorway, found herself once more in the street in the -cool, clear light of the early morning. During the former part of her -flight, she had thought the very darkness increased her terror; but -now as she walked on, with faltering steps, in an unwonted garb, and -fancying that every passing eye must penetrate her disguise, she would -have given worlds for night once more to afford her the covering of -its dull obscurity.</p><p class="normal">The gate lay at the distance of not more than a hundred yards before -them; and Beatrice whispering, "Do not be surprised or alarmed at -anything you see or hear, for I expect a confederate here," led the -way with a quick step.</p><p class="normal">Not to be alarmed, however, was out of Eugenie's power; for even the -great interests she had at stake, though they prompted to exertion, -were without effect in giving birth to courage: nor was the sight of -the gate at that moment calculated to remove her fears, for although -the siege was, as Beatrice said, absolutely at an end, and the royal -army already many leagues from Paris, yet sentinels were to be seen in -every direction, and a number of the fierce-looking soldiers of the -League still hung about the gates, some examining the market carts as -they entered the city, some jesting with the countrywomen who -accompanied them.</p><p class="normal">Beatrice advanced boldly, however, her confidence and presence of mind -appearing to increase as the dangers became more imminent, and gliding -between two carts which stood in the archway, she was leading Eugenie -on, when the <i>lanceprisade</i> of the guard darted out of the gate-house, -and caught her by the arm.</p><p class="normal">"Ha, ha! my young truant," he exclaimed, "whither away so fast? none -passes here without question: this is not the door of a church, young -man!"</p><p class="normal">Beatrice shook off the man's hold without showing the slightest -symptom of alarm or agitation; and ever ready with a reply, she -answered, "Not the door of a church! Is it the door of a Huguenot -<i>prźche</i> then? and are you a <i>maheutre</i> minister? Come, come! what do -you stop us for? They told me that the Bearnois and his beasts were -gone, and that we could go out in safety and see where the Huguenots -roasted their apples."</p><p class="normal">"You have more malice in your heads than that, my good youths, I have -a notion," replied the soldier. "We must have your names at least. -Give us your name, my good boy."</p><p class="normal">"Mine is Monseigneur le Duc du Petit Chatelet," replied Beatrice, -laughing; "so put that down in your book."</p><p class="normal">The soldier shook his finger at her good-humouredly enough. "You are a -wild one," he said, "and will break many a country wench's heart, I'll -warrant you, ere you be done with it. But what is your name, my pretty -little abbé, that stand there holding by the cart and blushing like a -girl of fifteen?"</p><p class="normal">Eugenie hesitated, and blushed a thousand times more deeply than -before; but Beatrice instantly came to her aid, exclaiming, "Do not -tell him your real name, silly boy; have you not wit to make one? What -has he to do with your real name? Monsieur le Soldat, or better still, -Monsieur le Lanceprisade, this gentleman here present is called L'Abbé -des Ponts et Chaussees,--so put that down in your book also!"</p><p class="normal">"Very well, I will," replied the man; "but before I let you go -farther, I must know whether these are your real names or not, and I -think we have one within there who can tell us."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie's heart sunk, and even Beatrice's confidence seemed a little -shaken, while the soldier, turning to some of his companions, -exclaimed, "send out the old man there, and we shall soon see if he -recognises these two pretty youths!"</p><p class="normal">The moment after, an elderly man, dressed much in the costume of a -major-domo belonging to some old family of distinction, came forth -from the gate-house and approached them, holding up his hands and -eyes, as if in horror and astonishment. Eugenie looked to Beatrice, to -see what was to come next; but a suppressed smile upon the countenance -of her fair friend re-assured her, although the words that accompanied -that smile tended to a contrary effect. "We are caught now, Eugene," -she exclaimed aloud, "we are caught now, that is clear!"</p><p class="normal">At the same time the old man advanced, crying, in a lamentable tone, -"Ah! young gentlemen, young gentlemen! how could you play such a -trick? There's my Lord the Marquis been storming like mad, and your -lady-mother crying her eyes out, ever since you left the chateau. We -thought you must have fallen into the hands of the Huguenots, and -there has been nothing but fear and anxiety through the whole -household. You, Monsieur Leonard, your father said he could understand -your running away, for you are always in mischief, but how you could -persuade Monsieur l'Abbé here to accompany you, he could not -understand!"</p><p class="normal">"I am sure if my father be in such a rage," replied Beatrice, in the -tone of a spoilt boy, caught in some trick more outrageous than -ordinary, "I am sure if my father be in such a rage, I shall not go -back till he is cool again; and so you may go and tell him, good -Master Joachim!"</p><p class="normal">"Oh, let us go! let us go!" said Eugenie in a low tone; and now -comprehending her companion's scheme, but anxious to bring the scene -to an end as speedily as possible, "Oh, let us go! it is useless to -delay."</p><p class="normal">"That is right! Monsieur l'Abbé, that is right!" cried the old man; -"but you need be under no fear of your father either, Master Leonard, -for good Father Philip has made him promise that nothing shall be said -if you do but come home quietly. There is the carriage, as you see, -standing ready, with Jean the lackey, and nothing shall be said I -promise you; but if you will not go peaceably, of your own will, I -must make you go whether you will or not, and these good gentlemen of -the guard will help me."</p><p class="normal">"Ay, that we will," cried the lanceprisade. "Two young truants! If ye -were not two such pretty boys, I should feel tempted to make your -backs so well acquainted with the staff of my halbert, that you would -jump into the carriage fast enough, I will answer for it!"</p><p class="normal">"We will not give thee the trouble, most redoubtable hero," answered -Beatrice, in a mocking tone. "But, as we must go, there is a crown for -you and your pot companions to drink to the health of the Duc du Petit -Chatelet and the Abbé des Ponts et Chaussees."</p><p class="normal">The man laughed and took the money; and Beatrice, with the same gay -and swaggering air, marched forward through the gate, followed by -Eugenie; while the old man came after; the lanceprisade of the guard -taking care to whisper in his ear, with a knowing look ere he went, -"You had better look sharp to them, or that young chap will give you -the slip yet; he is as full of mischief as a loaded cannon."</p><p class="normal">"Ay! ay! I will look to them," said the old man, with a solemn shake -of the head; "I will look to them, sir Lanceprisade, and many thanks -for your kind help and assistance in taking them."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, he followed Beatrice to the side of the carriage or -rather <i>chaise-roulante</i>, and having assisted her and Eugenie in, took -his seat in one of the boots. The lackey, who had waited with the -carriage, now closed the leathern curtain, which served the purpose of -a door, and then springing up beside the driver, who sat ready in his -seat, gave the signal for putting the whole in motion. The short whip -cracked, the two strong horses darted forward, and, after drawing to -its full extension the complication of ropes, leather straps, and iron -rings, which formed the harness, started the heavy carriage from the -spot where it rested in the full force of its <i>vis inertię</i>; and in a -moment, Eugenie, with a heart palpitating with joy, felt herself -rolling away from the gates of Paris, over roads which were rough, -indeed, with the recent passage of waggons and artillery, but every -step of which seemed to her hopes to conduct to safety and to peace.</p><p class="normal">For her part, Beatrice cast herself back in the carriage; her -lightness, her gaiety, her air of daring passed away; and for some -minutes she remained with her hands clasped over her eyes, as if -exhausted with all the exertion she had made. When she looked up, she -was still grave, and there was a languor about her which spoke plainly -that all the ease, and the courage, and the unconcernedness which she -had displayed through the difficult scenes just passed, had been, in -fact, the triumph of a ready and determined mind over the weakness of -a frame as delicate as that of the most timid of her sex.</p><p class="normal">"We are safe, Eugenie!" she said, "we are safe! and now give me -credit. Have I not played my part well? But it has almost been too -much for me. When by myself I can go through anything, but I was -alarmed and agitated for you; I feared not only lest you would be -overtaken, but lest you should sink under the trial. But now I trust -you are safe, dear Eugenie, for these horses go fast. We have nearly -five hours before us ere Mayenne will be up; ere he will be well -awake, and his eyes rubbed, and his boots pulled on, we shall have an -hour more; then to discover the whole, to think which way we are gone, -and to cross-examine your servants, will bring him to dinner time: the -poor man must eat, you know; and what with other business, and the -time required to give orders, and mount horsemen, and consult with his -sister, the day will be done, so that we may well calculate upon its -being to-morrow morning ere any one sets out to seek us. Therefore, my -Eugenie, with God's help, you are safe!"</p><p class="normal">"Thanks! thanks, Beatrice! A thousand thanks, my sister, my more than -sister!" cried Eugenie. "Well, indeed, as you say, and skillfully have -you played your part. But you would say I have not played mine badly -either, if you knew all that I have suffered, especially when we were -stopped at the gate. If you had told me, however, that you had got -such a comedy ready for our deliverance, I should have been better -prepared."</p><p class="normal">"But I knew no more than yourself," replied Beatrice, "what was to -come next; I had only time after your letter reached me to take -general measures. Luckily I had a number of my own people around me -without the walls of Paris. I bade Joachim have a carriage and horses -prepared this morning, and to hang about as near as possible, telling -whatever story he thought fit, if questioned. Thus, when the soldier -spoke to me, I took great care not to say a word that could contradict -my confederate's story, whatever it was; but kept to general nonsense, -which could signify nothing under any circumstances. As to the comedy -which you talk of, between Joachim and myself, it was like one of -those mysteries which people play in the convents, where the names of -the different characters, and some general idea of the story, is all -that is given, and the actors fill up the speeches as they think best -at the time. But my good major-domo played his part admirably too, and -shall not have reason to repent of it when we come to speak of -rewards."</p><p class="normal">"And, now, whither are we going?" demanded Eugenie; "for this does not -seem to me to be the road towards Maine."</p><p class="normal">"The road towards Maine!" exclaimed Beatrice--"why, my dear, simple -girl, that would be going into the lion's den, indeed. They will seek -you there in the first instance, and we must give time to let their -search be fully over ere we think of going near to Maine. At present -we are following, as fast as ever we can, the march of the king's -army, and I hope to pass the rear-guard to-night."</p><p class="normal">"But may not that be dangerous?" demanded Eugenie. "We have no pass -from them; and if any of the parties of soldiers meet us, we may be -taken and discovered, and perhaps maltreated."</p><p class="normal">"No fear of that," answered Beatrice; and then added, with a smile -that called the warm blood up into Eugenie's cheek, "we can send for -the Marquis of St. Real, you know, Eugenie. But, no, no! Do not be -afraid of that, or anything else. I have orders and safe-conducts in -the king's own hand. In short, Eugenie, I do not think that there is -one thing, which can tend to your safety, that has been forgotten by -Beatrice of Ferrara."</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXV.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">The night was dull and rainy; a thick shroud of clouds was drawn over -the sky, so that the summer moon could not look down with any of her -sweet smiles upon her wandering companion through the blue fields of -space; and the air was loaded with a foggy dampness, through which -fell a few drops, increased every now and then to a momentary shower, -heavy, but brief. The valley of the Seine was dark and gloomy, and the -night was so obscure, that nothing met the eye of the coachman who -drove the carriage containing Beatrice of Ferrara and her fair friend, -except the glistening of the river as it wound along not far from the -road, and the dull and somewhat indistinct line of the highway itself, -which, bad and sandy at all times, was now, as we have already said, -channelled and cut up by the passage of heavy carts and still heavier -artillery.</p><p class="normal">The second day after their flight from Paris was now drawing to its -close. Beatrice, from hearing that some of the troops of the League -had been hovering about in the neighbourhood of the Pont de l'Arche, -had kept quiet during the latter part of the day, in a farm-house, -where they had sought refreshment at noon, for themselves and horses, -and was now proceeding as rapidly as possible on the high road, -believing that the parties of the Union would not expose themselves to -the sudden and brilliant strokes of so active a commander as Henri -Quatre, by following his march too closely during the night. Eugenie, -on her part, though habit and distance from her immediate persecutors -had removed part of the load from her mind, was still agitated by many -a fear; and her terrors were not a little increased by proceeding in -the darkness over a road, the roughness of which, and the jolts -thereby occasioned, precluded all possibility of conversation. -Beatrice could but speak a word of comfort every now and then, which -Eugenie could scarcely hear, as the carriage ground its way through -the sand, or rattled over the large uneven stones. Thus had the two -fair girls proceeded for nearly two hours, in the darkness, when a cry -of, "Who goes there? Stand! Give the word!" brought the carriage to a -sudden stop, and roused all Eugenie's fears again to the highest -pitch. The lackey, who sat beside the coachman, jumped down, and went -on to speak with the soldier who had challenged him; and old Joachim, -who sat in the leathern projection at the side not unaptly called the -boot, got out, and went on also.</p><p class="normal">"Oh! Beatrice, what is this?" cried Eugenie, drawing nearer to her -friend in her increasing terror.</p><p class="normal">"Call me Leonard," replied Beatrice, in a gay tone; "call me Leonard! -till I have got off my boy's clothes at least. What is this, do you -ask, little timid fawn. Why nothing but the outpost of King Henry. -They will let us pass in a minute."</p><p class="normal">At that moment Joachim returned, and approached the side of the -carriage next to Beatrice, saying, "This is his Majesty's outpost, -sir, commanded by the Marquis of St. Real; and they demand to examine -who are in the carriage before they let it pass."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, he will know me directly!" whispered Eugenie to her fair -companion; "I would not have him see me in this garb, Beatrice, for -the world!"</p><p class="normal">"He will not examine the carriage himself, sweet girl," replied her -companion in the same low tone; "he will know nothing about it. Some -of his ancients or lieutenants have their orders for the night, of -course."</p><p class="normal">"But we cannot go much farther to-night," rejoined Eugenie; "and we -shall be to-morrow in the midst of his troops. Oh, Beatrice, do not! -If I should be found there, the people would say I had followed him."</p><p class="normal">"What can we do?" asked her companion with a smile, which the darkness -concealed from the eyes of Eugenie. "Joachim, show the sentry the -king's pass; but ask if there be not a road somewhere hereabout which -leads to the little town of Heudbouville. If there be, direct the -coachman thither; for we love not to sleep within the outposts of an -army, lest the enemy should treat us to an <i>alerte</i>. Gain us the good -sentinel's bitter contempt, Joachim, by telling him that we are two -cowardly boys, who hold the fire-eating soldiers of the League in -great terror."</p><p class="normal">"We have passed the road to Heudbouville some hundred yards or so," -replied the attendant: "but we can easily turn the carriage here, for -there is more room than ordinary;" and having satisfied the outpost -that no evil was intended by the denizens of the carriage, Joachim, -the coachman, and the lackey, performed the difficult feat of making -the ill-constructed vehicle revolve upon its axis, and brought the -horses' heads back again on the way to Paris. The road to the little -village which Beatrice had mentioned was soon found, and for about an -hour the carriage rolled on, without any further obstruction than was -given by stones and ruts, which threatened to scatter the wheels of -the luckless <i>chaise-roulante</i> to the four winds of heaven, in some of -the manifold jolts to which it was subjected; but at length the -coachman came to a halt, and seemed consulting with the lackey beside -him, who in turn put back his head to speak to Joachim in the boot.</p><p class="normal">"What is the matter, Joachim?" demanded Beatrice, perceiving that some -impediment had occurred, and trusting more to her own skill and -presence of mind than to the readiness of her attendants, although -they were selected expressly for their shrewdness and promptitude. -"What is the matter? Why does the coachman stop?"</p><p class="normal">Ere Joachim could reply, however, there was the sound of galloping -horse, and the next moment the carriage was surrounded by a number of -cavaliers, whose polished arms, as they rode up with a loud "<i>Qui -vive?</i>" caught and reflected the little light that still existed in -the air.</p><p class="normal">"<i>Vive le diable!</i>" replied Joachim, who was a great deal too wise to -answer seriously till he had ascertained to what party the -interrogators belonged; "<i>Vive le diable!</i> why do you stop two young -gentlemen, going to the schools, on the highway? We are neither -soldiers nor robbers, nor anything else that you have aught to do -with."</p><p class="normal">"Well answered, Joachim!" muttered Beatrice, as she leaned forward to -examine the persons of the horsemen nearest her; but the darkness was -too complete to suffer the faces of any of them to be distinguishable, -or to allow the colours which they wore t« be seen. Beatrice, however, -caught a glance of the peculiar cross of the house of Lorraine upon -one of the cuirasses, as the fiery horse of the rider pranced by the -side of the carriage; and she instantly interposed, exclaiming, "Speak -to me a moment, Monseigneur! I am the young Baron de Bigny, son of the -Marquis de Bigny at Amiens, and am going with my brother here, the -Abbé de Bigny, to La Fleche. I do not know whether you are of the -party of the king or of the Holy League and Union; but I am sure you -will not stop two youths like us, but let us pass quietly."</p><p class="normal">"But this is not the right way from Amiens to La Fleche, my good -youth," replied the officer. "How came you thus thirty miles out of -your road?"</p><p class="normal">"We came here to get out of the way of the Huguenots," replied -Beatrice; who had now gained a better sight of the cross of Lorraine, -which was to be found alone on the side of the League. "We had nearly -fallen into their hands an hour ago; and--but perhaps you are one of -that party too, Monseigneur; if so, I beg your pardon with all--"</p><p class="normal">"No, no, I am no <i>maheutre</i>," replied the officer; "but, do you know, -my good youth, it would not surprise me if you were. Methinks I should -know the voice of Auguste de Bigny, seeing I am his first cousin; and -so, without more ado, I shall march you up to the village, to see who -you really are, for I am very sure you are not the person for whom you -give yourself out. Come, coachman, drive on, and we will give you an -escort which you did not expect, I rather fancy."</p><p class="normal">"I went a step too far," whispered Beatrice to Eugenie; "but do not -fear, dear Eugenie, I will manage matters yet.--Many thanks, many -thanks, Sir Cavalier," she continued aloud. "Drive on as he bids you, -Jean Baptiste. I shall soon amuse all the companions of Monsieur -Francois de Bigny by the history of his adventures in the well at -Houdlaincourt. How he went to make love to the miller's daughter; and -the miller and his men caught him, and put him in a sack, and let him -three times down into the well, maugre his high rank and gallant -bearing, and brought him up, all white and dripping, like a dumpling -out of the pot. Ha, ha! Monsieur Francois de Bigny, how will you like -that story told to the <i>gens d'armes</i> over their wine?--I never take -the name of any one I do not know," she said in a low voice to -Eugenie, while the officer paused irresolute, and spoke a few words to -Joachim and the coachman. "There is many a good tale to be told -against that noble cavalier, which I had from Adela de Bigny, his -cousin, and which he will not much relish; and I doubt not he will -send us on to escape laughter; for though he may have found out that I -am not his young cousin Auguste, he must see that I know all his -history."</p><p class="normal">What would have been the result of Beatrice's expedient cannot be -told; for at the very moment that Monsieur de Bigny was speaking to -the coachman, and inquiring apparently whether the person who knew so -much of his adventure was or was not really his young cousin, there -appeared, upon what seemed--as far as the darkness suffered it to be -discovered,--a sloping field upon the right of the road, a multitude -of small lights in a line of about two hundred yards long.</p><p class="normal">"Down, down, in the bottom of the carriage!" cried Beatrice, who -appeared to comprehend at once what those small sparks of fire meant; -and she instantly crouched down below the seats, dragging Eugenie -after her: "the king's troops are upon them."</p><p class="normal">As she spoke, a bright flash ran along in the same direction as the -lights, and then the loud rattle of musketry, while three or four -balls passed through the upper part of the carriage. Eugenie felt as -if she were about to faint; but the moment after there was the sound -of charging horse, and the whole space round the carriage became full -of strife and confusion. Little could be seen, except when every now -and then the flash of a pistol showed, for an instant apart of that -strange and exciting scene, a night skirmish; and it was only by the -sounds of blows and shots growing fainter and more faint around, that -Beatrice perceived the Leaguers had been beaten and driven up the road -by the royal forces. "Is any one of our people hurt?" she cried at -length, raising herself, and looking out. "Eugenie, you have not -suffered? Take courage, dear friend. Joachim, Joachim, where are -you--where are the men?"</p><p class="normal">"Here, madam!" replied Joachim, creeping out from below the carriage. -"We ensconced ourselves here as soon as we saw the matches blown on -the hill--but what we shall do now, I do not know, for one of the -horses is killed."</p><p class="normal">"That is unfortunate, indeed!" replied Beatrice; "but see, they are -fighting in the village;" and she pointed on to a spot where repeated -flashes of musketry might be seen gleaming between the dark masses of -the houses and other buildings in what seemed a small town. "Henry -Quatre is there himself," she said. "This is one of his daring -enterprises--to dislodge the League from his flank as he advances upon -Rouen, I dare say; but at all events we must wait till the matter is -settled one way or another. If he be forced to retreat, we must -retreat with him, Eugenie. If he drive out the Leaguers, the road will -be clear before us. Take heart! take heart, Eugenie!--why I thought I -was a terrible coward till I saw you."</p><p class="normal">For about ten minutes possession of the village seemed to be severely -contested; but at the end of that time the firing ceased; the trumpets -might then be heard blowing a recall; and at the end of half an hour -the sound of a body of horse coming at an easy pace down the road was -distinguished at the spot where Beatrice and her trembling friend had -remained.</p><p class="normal">"Ask the commander of the party to stop and speak with me, Joachim," -cried Beatrice; "run on and meet them. Tell them how we were stopped -by the League, and save me explanations."</p><p class="normal">The man did as he was directed, and the moment after, a cavalier rode -up to the side of the carriage, saying, "your servant says you wish to -speak with me, young gentleman. I command this party. What want you -with me? One of your horses is shot, I see; but, good faith, I can -give you no other; for Ventre Saint Gris! I want more than I have got -of my own."</p><p class="normal">"On my word, your Majesty must find me one, nevertheless!" answered -Beatrice, boldly. "If you have not forgot Beaumont en Maine, you will -understand that though an ass served my turn then, I must have a horse -now!"</p><p class="normal">"Pardie, my friend the page!" cried Henry. "Then you have accomplished -your bold undertaking."</p><p class="normal">"True, sire, I have," replied Beatrice, "as far as getting away from -Paris; but I had nearly lost all, by my own fault, this very moment, -and fallen into the hands of the League. I attempted what I thought a -<i>coup de maītre</i>, and was well nigh taken in my own trap."</p><p class="normal">"The same misfortune has just befallen the League," replied Henry; -"they thought to get upon my flank, and take possession of Louviers, -but we have taught them that we do not slumber on such occasions. -However, my brave page, you run great risks in going forward on the -road where you now are. We have driven them out of the village, but -they will rally not far behind, for it was too dark to pursue them -far."</p><p class="normal">"Then we will turn round," replied Beatrice; "and, escorted by kings -and princes, make the best of our way through your Majesty's host, -till we can sleep in peace a couple of leagues beyond your outposts."</p><p class="normal">"The best plan you can follow," replied the king; "we will not ask you -even to pause and refresh yourselves, lest the morals of two such -simple boys should get corrupted by the license of our camp. Though -here is the Marquis of St. Real, within a hundred yards of us, would -doubtless be willing to receive one or both of you into his quarters."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie instinctively shrunk back farther into the corner of the -carriage, and the king proceeded; "But we must get you a horse, at all -events. Colonel James, send up some of your arquebusiers to that -farm-house upon the hill, and see whether in the stables thereof you -can find a horse. As your fire has killed one of the beasts which were -dragging these two young gentlemen, it is but fit you should take the -trouble of providing them with another."</p><p class="normal">The king waited to know if his embassy were successful; and after -having seen the soldiers return with a strong cart horse, which was -instantly harnessed to the carriage, in the place of the dead one, he -gave orders for a party of troopers to escort the young wanderers as -far as the Pont de l'Arche; and then, taking his leave, rode on -towards his camp.</p><p class="normal">When the carriage was once more in motion, Eugenie breathed again; but -still, at every place where it stopped her terrors were renewed, and -she gazed out, with alarm and anxiety, upon the dark figures of the -soldiery, who watched with unsleeping vigilance in the camp of the -warrior monarch, till, at the Pont de l'Arche, which was the advanced -post of the king's army, the horse they had obtained was exchanged for -another, and they rolled on more smoothly towards the little hamlet of -St. Ouen. The fears of Eugenie de Menancourt were during those moments -of a very varied kind; for with her terrors so strongly roused as they -had been, she found it impossible to submit them entirely to the -influence of reason; and yet, strange to say, the thing she dreaded -most, after immediate personal danger was over, was to meet and be -known by the man whom she now felt, she loved more than any other -being upon earth. She shrunk from the thought of seeing St. Real in -the garb that she had assumed to escape from the persecution of his -cousin,--she shrunk even from the thought of seeing him, now that a -ceremony, however vain, illegal, and compulsory, had taken place -between her and any other; and though she felt, even to pain, how much -she detested the Count d'Aubin, and how much she loved St. Real, yet -it seemed to her as if she had wronged her love for him in not dying -sooner than suffering even the shadow of an engagement to pass between -herself and another. Thus, it was not till they had passed the extreme -outpost of the royal camp, and were rolling along in the quiet -darkness of the night, that she breathed at ease, free from the -constant expectation of seeing the Marquis of St. Real gallop up to -the side of the carriage, and recognise her under her disguise.</p><p class="normal">At the little village of St. Ouen all the world was sound asleep; and -manifold were the strokes of sword hilts upon the door of the -<i>auberge</i>, many the shouts up to the unlistening windows, before the -inmates could be roused to comprehend that there were strangers on the -road demanding admission. At length, the hostess, half dressed, and -scarcely half awake, came scolding down the stairs, extremely angry -that anyone should travel at such unseemly hours; and on her steps -soon followed her husband, a big burly Norman, but shrewd withal, and -sufficiently sensible of his own interests to smother all expression -of annoyance, and give his guests the best welcome that he could.</p><p class="normal">Early the next morning, the carriage was again in motion, but not -before some of the light troops of the matutinal monarch of France -were upon the road, and Eugenie was more than once alarmed by their -gazing boldly into the vehicle when the curtains were undrawn, and by -talking to the driver and the servants when the carriage was closed. -These parties, however, as they marched but slowly, and the carriage -went fast, were soon passed, and the rest of the journey proceeded as -peaceably as any journey could do in those disturbed and unhappy days. -Beatrice of Ferrara, after the experiment at Heudbouville, did not -suffer herself again to be drawn from the route which she had laid out -at first for her fair friend, but advanced as rapidly as possible -towards the sea-side, seeing security only in the hope of Henry's army -still interposing between them and the League, and thus preventing all -search for Eugenie de Menancourt in the direction which she had really -followed.</p><p class="normal">"At all events, dear Eugenie," she said, as they approached Dieppe, -"here, upon the sea-coast, you will always have an opportunity of -escape to England, should need be; and I will take care that our -friend King Henry shall furnish you with such letters to the queen of -those bold islanders, as to ensure you protection and assistance. For -my part, you know, Eugenie, after a week or fortnight's rest, I must -leave you, if you can do without me. My destiny, dear girl, has to be -fulfilled, and I must back to Paris by a different road, both to hide -my having aught to do with your successful flight, and to watch the -progress of all on which my ultimate fate depends."</p><p class="normal">"Would to Heaven," said Eugenie de Menancourt, "that I could have such -a happy and saving influence on your fate, Beatrice, as you have had -on mine! But I am destined only to be a burden to you, and to rely -upon you for everything, without knowing or comprehending the past or -the present, as far as it regards you, without understanding your -means, your wishes, or your purposes."</p><p class="normal">"I will tell you all, dear Eugenie, I will tell you all," replied -Beatrice of Ferrara; "and then, as my daring rashness was necessary to -give vigour to your timid nature, your gentle counsel may now perhaps -tend to moderate and restrain my bold, wild schemes. But wait till we -come to a resting-place, and then in some sweet quiet cottage in green -Normandy, with the soft autumn sun shining upon our door, I will rest -beside you for a short time, and drawing you a picture of my wayward -fate, will see whether we cannot find means to give it a brighter -colouring and a happier hue."</p><p class="normal">So spake Beatrice of Ferrara; but ere we go on to look into the -picture to which she alluded, we must beg the reader to pause for a -few minutes, upon some of those dull details, which in books calling -themselves historical romances serve the mind as bad post-houses on a -much-travelled road--places where, after scampering on for many a -league in pursuit of pleasure, the little traveller is obliged to -stop, kicking his heels in impatient irritation till the horses are -brought out, the harness prepared, the postilion has got into his -boots, the lash is put on his whip, and, in short, all is made ready -for carrying on that same little eager traveller, the human mind, once -more upon his way.</p><p class="normal">Giving up, then, heroes and heroines, knights and ladies, we must -even follow the progress of that lumbering and uninteresting machine -called an army, and pause for a while to consider its clumsy and -crocodile-like movements. We have already seen that on the day -preceding Eugenie de Menancourt's escape from Paris, the camp of the -besieging Royalists had broken up; and that the gay and chivalrous -Henry Quatre led his meagre and somewhat ill-furnished host down the -bright and laughing banks of the Seine, in such a direction that, -should need be, he could either march across Normandy, and fall back -upon Touraine, or advance at once to the sea-coast, and cover the -disembarkation of his English allies.</p><p class="normal">We have followed him some way on his march; but it would appear, that -inasmuch as the Royalists had been rather improvident of their -supplies, and had been found, during the life of Henry III. somewhat -unwilling to pay for the good things of this life, with which, at -first, the peasantry had been very willing to furnish them, a want of -provisions, both eatable and potable, had made its appearance in the -camps of St. Cloud and Meudon. The jaws of the Royalists had got -unaccustomed to maceration, and their lips to the taste of sweet -things; so that as they took their way through the pleasant little -towns and villages of Poissy, Triel, Meulan, Mantes, and sweet -Fontenay, they lived very nearly at free quarters amongst the -inhabitants, taking care to make the fat of the land through which -they now passed, compensate for the meagreness of the diet they had so -long endured. Nevertheless, as the king and his followers paid where -they could, promised where they could not pay, and never took toll of -rosy lips, except where there was a smile upon them, the people of the -country in general gave them a better character when they were gone -than might have been expected; and declared, that, after all, the -Huguenots were not so bad as they were called.</p><p class="normal">In the meantime, as we have already shown, to diversify these -employments, a little interlude of fighting did now and then take -place; a town was now and then besieged and taken; and Henry IV. made -arrangements for giving the inhabitants of the loyal city of Rouen an -entertainment, which brings down the walls of a city more by the -double-bass of the cannon than by the shrill sound of the trumpet. -Pausing a sufficient time before the walls of that town to give and -receive various proofs of amity, which left his own host diminished by -several hundred men, and the garrison of the town less by perhaps -double that number, the king received news, which made him judge that -the situation of his army might be improved by a very rapid change of -air; and consequently without longer hesitation or delay, he struck -his tents, left success to follow, and at once led his troops to the -sea-side.</p><p class="normal">Divining, however, that his enemies would anticipate with great -satisfaction the moment for driving his scanty forces into the sea, he -seemed resolved to disappoint them, if admirable dispositions could -effect that purpose; and choosing for his troops the strongest -position which he could discover, with their backs to the element and -their faces inland, he ranged them along the side of a fair and -beautiful hill, on the ridge of which still stands all which Time has -left of the old and interesting castle of Arques.</p><p class="normal">Leaving the king and his men, however, thus posted for that battle -which covered with immortal renown the monarch and his little host, we -must turn for a moment to Paris, in order to investigate what -proceedings had taken place in the capital, and what were the tidings -which caused the monarch so suddenly to strike the tents he had -pitched before Rouen.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVI.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">The morning after Eugenie's departure, no small surprise was expressed -in the Hotel de Guise at the non-appearance of the priest, who had not -only performed the marriage ceremony for the Count d'Aubin, but also -rendered the much more important service of communicating to Mayenne -the approach of aid from the Duke of Parma. While Mayenne, in his -usual slow and deliberate manner, discussed the fact with his sister, -and, shrugging his shoulders, declared that if the good father did not -choose to come for his reward, he could not help it, the thought -crossed his mind that he had not yet seen his own confessor, who had -been carried off by the myrmidons of Bussy le Clerc; and although he -doubted not that the Chevalier d'Aumale had before this time set the -good priest at liberty, he determined to inquire farther: a vague -suspicion for the first time crossing his mind that all was not right -in regard to the transactions of the preceding evening.</p><p class="normal">By this time the hand of the dial pointed to the hour of nine; and -Eugenie's maid Caroline, who, in order to give as much time to her -mistress as possible, had ventured to prolong the period at the end of -which she had been directed to present herself at the Hotel de Guise, -was even now at the door inquiring for the Duchess of Montpensier. Her -message was brought to that lady as she sat by her brother; and -although she comprehended not one word thereof, she saw that it in -some manner bore upon the point they were discussing, and ordered the -girl to be brought into the room.</p><p class="normal">"He says that Mademoiselle de Menancourt's tire-woman has brought some -apparel for her mistress," she repeated, turning to her brother after -the attendant who made the announcement had left the room; "what can -this mean, Charles?"</p><p class="normal">"I know not, Kate," he replied with a doubtful smile; "but when the -girl comes, make her repeat her message," appearing perfectly -unconcerned.</p><p class="normal">Before he could add more, the tire-woman was in the saloon; and -playing her part with a natural talent which none but a French -<i>soubrette</i> ever possessed, she approached towards Madame de -Montpensier, and with a low and reverent courtesy, and a look of the -most perfect simplicity, said, "I have brought all the things, your -Highness, that my mistress thought she would require; but in regard to -the filigree girdle, as I told her last night, I have not seen it for -these two months. It was given into charge to Laure, who was sent away -when my old lord died." And she went on into a long story, solely the -invention of her own brain for the occasion; but which was so -circumstantial and minute, and delivered with so much apparent -earnestness and sincerity, that Mayenne looked at Madame de -Montpensier, and Madame de Montpensier looked at Mayenne, with eyes in -which bewilderment and surprise were then plainly visible.</p><p class="normal">"And pray what made you think that your mistress was here at all?" -demanded the Duchess, at length cutting across the thread of the -girl's story, which bade fair otherwise to be interminable.</p><p class="normal">It was now the maid's turn to be surprised, and most skilfully did she -represent the passion of astonishment; standing before Madame de -Montpensier in silence, and looking at her without one trace of -comprehension in her eyes. "Pray what did your Highness say?" she -asked at length; "I did not understand you."</p><p class="normal">"She demanded what made you think your mistress was here at all?" -repeated Mayenne, in a harsh voice.</p><p class="normal">"Lord bless me, sir! Your Highness! Dear me! What made me think my -mistress was here?" cried the girl, with an affectation of wonder and -doubt and affright that was perfectly admirable. "Did not her Highness -send her own carriage for her last night, with a young abbé and a -page, and a billet sealed with green wax?"</p><p class="normal">The story, as it had been prepared by Beatrice of Ferrara, now came -out at full, and the whole Hotel de Guise was soon in agitation and -confusion:--Madame de Montpensier alternately laughing and frowning, -Mayenne striding up and down the room, and vowing that if it were the -Count d'Aubin who had served him such a trick, he would find means to -make him rue it; and the maid Caroline weeping as bitterly as if she -had lost a lover or a gold necklace, and wringing her hands for her -poor mistress with all the phrase and circumstance of sorrow.</p><p class="normal">In the midst of this scene the Chevalier d'Aumale appeared, informing -Mayenne that Bussy le Clerc denied all knowledge of his chaplain, and -that the guards at the Bastile were in the same story. Ere Mayenne, -however, could include Bussy le Clerc in his denunciations of -vengeance against the Count d'Aubin, the confusion of the whole was -rendered more confused by the apparition of the confessor himself, who -exculpated the demagogue by declaring that he had never been in the -Bastille, but, on the contrary, had been carried away by persons he -knew not, who, at a certain point, had put him into a carriage, and -blindfolded him. They had then lodged him for the night in a small -room with nothing but a bed, a crucifix, and a missal. Here, in mortal -terror, he had watched and prayed, till the grey of the dawn, when, -being again blindfolded, he was led out through a great many streets -and turnings, of whose name and nature of which he had not the -slightest conception, and at length finding himself free from the -hands of those who had held him, he uncovered his eyes, and perceived -that he was standing in the midst of the Pont Neuf, by the side of a -blind man who was singing detestable melodies to the discordant -accompaniment of that most ancient instrument the hurdy-gurdy. Tired, -frightened, and bewildered, he had made the best of his way home, -without attempting to seek for his ravishers; and after sleeping till -he had incurred a penance for forgetting his matins, he had come to -add his mite of confusion to that which already existed in the hall of -his patron.</p><p class="normal">His tribute, however, small as it was, aided to perplex the ideas of -Mayenne far more than ever. Ere he made his appearance, it had been -the natural conclusion of the lieutenant-general and of his sister, -that the carrying off of Eugenie de Menancourt had been the work of -the Count d'Aubin; and the absence of the confessor had been -considered entirely as a thing apart. No sooner, however, were his -adventures related, than they instantly connected themselves in the -minds of all with the non-appearance of the priest, who had performed -the ceremony, and with the absence of Eugenie; and the shrewd -intellects of Mayenne and Madame de Montpensier, thus put upon the -right track, seemed likely soon to discover no small portion of the -truth. Eugenie's tire-woman was again strictly examined, and though -she acquitted herself to a wonder, suspicion was roused. "Think you, -Kate," demanded Mayenne, "that shrewd plotter, Beatrice of Ferrara, -has a hand in this? There was some talk of love--ay! and even of -marriage--between her and D'Aubin in the old Queen's time."</p><p class="normal">"No, no!" replied the Duchess, "that has all gone by, and she now -despises him, as every woman of common sense must do. Besides, I saw -her at old Madame de Gondi's fete last night at one o'clock! You had -better question the other attendants of De Menancourt. You may gain -more tidings there."</p><p class="normal">Mayenne accordingly determined to proceed instantly to Eugenie's -dwelling, in order to interrogate the rest of her servants; and he -commanded, in a stern and threatening tone, that the girl Caroline -should be detained till he returned. As the door was thrown open, -however, to give him exit to the court, a gentleman was introduced as -the captain of the lansquenets, sent to his aid by the Duke of Parma; -and all Mayenne's conclusions were once more deranged, by finding that -the intelligence brought him by the priest was genuine.</p><p class="normal">How Beatrice of Ferrara had obtained that intelligence Mayenne never -discovered; but true the news certainly was, and most important were -the results to the cause of the League; for what between the auxiliary -force which thus joined him, and reinforcements brought in by -Bassompierre, Nemours, and Balagny, the army in Paris was soon so -strong as not only to justify but to bespeak bold and energetic -measures. Mayenne instantly prepared to take the field against the -royal army; and ere Henry IV. had been three days before Rouen, the -forces of the League were in full march to give him battle. Before he -left Paris, however, the Duke used every means not only to discover -the retreat of Eugenie, but to ascertain the cause and the manner of -her flight. In regard to the first, he was baffled at every point; and -so skilful had been the arrangements of Beatrice, that in respect to -the second he returned to the conclusion, after long and repeated -investigations, that to the Count d'Aubin was to be attributed an act -which, under such circumstances, he looked upon as a base breach of -faith, approaching to a personal insult. The tidings, therefore, that -Eugenie had disappeared from the capital, and was nowhere to be heard -of, were conveyed to D'Aubin by a reproachful letter from the Duke of -Mayenne; and mad with anger and disappointment, the Count, on his -part, gave his mind up to the belief that Mayenne was deceiving him, -threw himself on his horse, and travelled with frantic rapidity, till -he reached Paris. There finding that the army of the League was -already on its march, he followed with all speed, overtook Mayenne at -Gournay, and a somewhat vehement altercation was the consequence.</p><p class="normal">Mayenne, however, could not afford to quarrel with a person of so much -importance to his cause; and acting with wisdom and moderation, an -explanation soon ensued, which cleared either party in the opinion of -the other. As D'Aubin, however, giving way to the natural impetuosity -of his disposition, had not waited to put the troops in motion which -he had collected in Maine, he returned thither after one day's rest, -while Mayenne marched forwards towards Dieppe.</p><p class="normal">Accompanied by some of the first officers in France, and supported by -an overwhelming force, it seemed that the great leader of the League -was about to drive the handful of men which opposed him, and their -heroic monarch, into that sea which was already bearing to their aid -the expected succour from England. Strongly posted, however, and -powerful both in courage and in right, Henry IV. calmly awaited the -attack of his adversary; and, after several preliminary movements, the -day of Arques dawned heavy and dull, without a breath of air to stir -the trees or to dispel the autumn fog that obscured the scene of that -memorable fight.</p><p class="normal">It were tedious here to tell all the minute particulars of the -glorious day, when, attacked at all points, and assailed in all -manners, not only by the arms of the enemy, but by the treason or -folly of part of his own troops, Henry IV. defended the hill of Arques -against forces more than six times the number of his own.</p><p class="normal">Every one has heard how, when monarch and soldiers were alike wearied -out with sustaining through a long day the unceasing attacks of -infinitely superior numbers, when scarcely a horse could bear his -rider to the charge, and scarcely a hand could wield a sword, the -little band of Royalists beheld the powerful and yet untouched cavalry -of the League wheeling round upon their flank, while a light wind -springing up tended to clear the air, and showed to both armies the -insignificance of the one and the tremendous advantages of the other. -But in stricken fields, as in the daily strife of life, the event -which seems destined to seal our misfortunes is often but the -harbinger of unexpected success. The wind, it is true, rose higher, -and rolling the sea-fog, in heavy clouds, away down the valley of -Arques, left the few gallant defenders of that long-contested hill -exposed, in all their need, to the eyes of the mighty host that swept -round them in dreadful array; but, at the same time, the full sunshine -poured upon the advancing squadrons of the League as they came on to -the charge, and those upon the hill, for the first time during the -day, could distinguish clearly the separate masses of friends and -foes. The cannon of the castle of Arques opened at once, with -tremendous effect, upon the cavalry of Mayenne; the first ranks were -swept down as they advanced; the second rolled over their dying -comrades; the horses, mad with pain and terror, broke through the -ranks behind; and the charge of a few hundred men, at that critical -moment, put all the gallant array into irremediable flight. Mayenne -saw that the day was not for him; and withdrawing his masses in slow -and soldierly order, he retreated for several miles, and left the -field of Arques to the glory of Henry IV.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">It was in a cottage by the sea-side--a mere hut, belonging in former -times to a fisherman--that Eugenie de Menancourt sat one autumn day -beside Beatrice of Ferrara watching the clouds of mist roll over the -waters, as the exhalations which night had left behind struggled with -a light wind and a still powerful sun for place upon the bosom of the -ocean. It was a mere hut, as we have said, but there was something -picturesque in its position, seated halfway up, halfway down a -sand-cliff to the east of Dieppe, with a projecting shoulder of the -rock sheltering it from the winds of the Atlantic, and a few trees and -shrubs--stunted in size and not very luxuriant in foliage, it is true, -but still green and fresh--keeping it company in the warm nook where -it was placed. It is not impossible that the very picturesque beauty -of its situation might be the reason why it had been selected by one -who had more poetry in her heart and soul than half the poets of the -land in which she lived. But, at the same time, there was another -motive which she would have assigned if she had been asked, and which -was, that the shore beneath formed a little bay in which the waves -seldom broke boisterously, but even in very stormy weather seemed to -play there in innocent sport, while their parent sea was all in -trouble and contention without, as we may have seen the children of a -warrior playing in peace by their cottage-door while their father was -urging the bloody strife upon the battle plain. In this sheltered bay -lay a small vessel, and on the beach were two or three boats, while up -above upon the cliff were several more cottages, from which to that we -have described a winding and somewhat difficult path led down the face -of the crag. Although the cottage had not contained more than ten days -its two fair tenants, who had now resumed their appropriate dress, yet -they had contrived to ornament it with a very different sort of taste -from that which was displayed by any of the neighbouring dwellers on -the shore: for Beatrice had her full share of that knowledge and love -of what is beautiful in art or nature which was then general in her -native land; and although she had daily talked of returning soon to -Paris to play her appointed part upon that busy scene, yet she had -lingered with a fond clinging to the peaceful moments she spent there, -musing away her time upon the ever-varying sea-shore, or decorating -the cottage she had hired for Eugenie with somewhat whimsical care. As -if her journey to Paris had been a duty, for the neglect of which she -owed an apology to her own heart, she often spoke of the difficulties -and dangers of reaching the capital when two hostile armies were -interposed: but difficulties or dangers had rarely stopped Beatrice of -Ferrara when she willed to go in any direction upon earth; and, -perhaps, the real reason of her delay might be, that Philip d'Aubin -was not in the metropolis, and that she knew it.</p><p class="normal">As we have said, however, beside her Eugenie de Menancourt; upon an -autumn day, little more than a fortnight after we last left them. -Their eyes were bent upon the sea-fogs rolling along over the bosom of -the waters below, and contending in vain against a rising wind, which -every now and then swept them away, and showed to old Ocean the blue -eyes of Heaven looking upon his slumbering waves, when the curtain of -the mist was withdrawn by the soft hand of the morning air.</p><p class="normal">"See, Eugenie! see!" cried Beatrice of Ferrara, as, with their arms -twined in each other, they gazed forth upon the changing scene; "see -how the soft and downy masses of fog roll dark above the sea, and how, -every now and then, a scanty gleam of light breaks in, and gilds the -moving vapour and the waves below! Do you know, dear Eugenie, that the -bosom of that sea seems to me like my own fate, wrapped up, as it has -been for many years, in clouds and gloom, with every now and then a -gleam of brightness breaking through, for a brief moment, and obscured -again almost as soon as given. Do you know, dear girl, I could stand -and gaze upon that sea, and, with all the superstition of the ancient -days, I could play the augur to my own heart, and read my after-lot in -the changes that come over the bosom of the water."</p><p class="normal">"Well, let me read it!" cried Eugenie: "see, see, Beatrice, what a -long bright gleam is coming now!"</p><p class="normal">"Ay! but the clouds roll up behind," replied her friend.</p><p class="normal">"Yes, but beyond them again all is clear and bright," rejoined -Eugenie, as the sun and the wind gained the mastery, and the last -wreaths of mist were swept away, leaving nothing but a thin filmy veil -upon the expanse of sea. "See, Beatrice, how bright it looks!"</p><p class="normal">"And, on the other hand, gaze on the dark cloud of the past," replied -Beatrice, with a smile which was not without its share of hopefulness; -"and as you, dear Eugenie, have read me my coming lot, and would fain -make me believe that it is to be so bright, I will tell you shortly, -very shortly, the history of the past; that you may judge how much -cause I have to augur well of the approaching hours from my experience -of those gone. I cannot dwell long upon such painful things, but I -will speak them briefly."</p><p class="normal">Sitting down together, and still gazing out upon the golden sea, -Beatrice began her tale; and as she told it in as few words as it -could well be told, so shall it be repeated here.</p><p class="normal">"I was born amongst the lovely Euganean hills," she said, "where -nature has compressed into one small space all that is beautiful and -all that is grand; mountain and valley, stream and lake, profuse -abundance, vegetation and cultivation, an atmosphere of magic light, -and an air of balm. My father was the sovereign prince of----, but -that matters not; though we were of the house of Ferrara, which has -given sovereigns to many another land, and has allied its princes to -the highest upon earth. My father's dominions were small, but they -were rich and beautiful; and he himself, born of a warlike race, kept -well with the sword those territories which, doubtless, the sword had -first acquired. He, when the sovereigns of Ferrara were closely allied -to the house of France, visited this court; and wedded, more for her -beauty than her wealth, and more for her virtues than her beauty, the -heiress of a noble house, whose lands lie not far from your own in -Maine. He carried her to Italy, where they ever after lived; his -rights to his lady's lands in France being still respected by the -sovereigns of this country, though the management of them was somewhat -neglected by those in whom he trusted. Still, however, those lands -were rich, and made no small addition to the revenues of an Italian -prince. His favourite residence was amongst the Euganean hills; and -there, where he had collected everything that was beautiful to the -eye, or pleasant to the ear, where the wise and the good, the poet and -the sculptor, the painter and the musician, ever found a home, I, his -first-born child, saw the light, now some four-and-twenty years ago. -About four years after, a brother was born, and, in his birth, my -mother died; but though my father never wedded again, but buried his -heart in the tomb of her he had loved, yet we were well, carefully, -fondly nurtured, both by our surviving parent himself, and by an -uncle, who, high in the church of Rome, looked on both my brother and -myself as if we had been children of his own. Abandoning the paths of -ambition for our sake, he left the ancient capital of empires for our -peaceful castle in the Euganean hills; and there, while my father was -often absent fulfilling the duties of a prince or a soldier, he -devoted himself to the cultivation of our young minds, and to the -strengthening of our young hearts against the sorrows and the -temptations of the world. He was, he is, one man out of a multitude. -But, Eugenie, we had another uncle, who, through life, had followed a -different path, and who was destined to act a different part. He was -bred a soldier, and lent his sword, and the troops he had contrived to -raise, to any one who held out to him the prospect of wealth or -aggrandisement. His expeditions, fortunate to others,--for he was -brave and skilful,--were not fortunate to himself; for the artful and -deceitful men he served generally contrived to withhold from him his -promised reward. From my father he always met kindness and protection; -and often did my parent support his cause, and avenge his quarrels, to -the detriment of his own best interests. How that uncle acted in -return, you shall hear. His heart was corrupted by dealing with the -base, and he became base himself, from believing that all others were -so.</p><p class="normal">"My uncle Albert, the Cardinal, saw more deeply into his heart than my -father; and I remember well that it was when speaking of his brother, -my other uncle, that he took pains to impress upon my mind a truth -that struck me as a child, and which I have never forgotten. 'True -virtue,' he said, 'comes out the brighter for shining amidst vice. It -is only those who feel themselves weak that fear the contagion of -corruption. We may hate evil, and not willingly mingle with those who -practise it; but, if forced to do so, my child, we shall only hate it -the more if we be really virtuous at heart. Meaner stones derive a -lustre from that which lies beneath them: we set the diamond upon -black, and it shines by its own light.' My father died, Eugenie; and -the manner of his death was not altogether without suspicion; but as, -in his territories, it was a doubtful question, whether the coronet, -where there were male and female children, descended to the eldest of -either sex, or was the portion of the first-born son, my uncle -Ferdinand came hastily to settle the succession; and, to prevent all -dispute, he took the inheritance unto himself. For fear of greater -evils to us, and greater crimes to his brother, my other uncle, -Albert, sent my young brother and myself, with speed and secrecy, to -the court of France. I was then but thirteen years of age, and my -brother nine, and with us were some attached dependants, who had -either followed my mother to Italy, or had dwelt long in my father's -house. My brother instantly received my mother's inheritance in -France, burdened only with a small portion for myself; but, to better -my fallen fortunes, the late Queen-mother, Catherine of Medicis, -received me as one of her women, and, to do her but right, showed me, -through life, unvarying tenderness. I will not offend your ears, -Eugenie, by telling all that I saw in that corrupt court; but I had -three great safeguards, dear friend--a heart naturally not easily -moved; firm principles of truth and virtue, implanted in my earliest -years; and one faithful woman, who had nursed my mother and myself, -and who to vestal purity of heart added a daring courage, which -strengthened her to do what she judged right in defiance of all -dangers, and would speak truth to the highest of God's creatures upon -earth. Yet I must not take credit to myself for any great powers of -resistance. I do not say that there were not many who sought me, some -in marriage, and some with lighter vows; but so deep and thorough was -the contempt I felt for the vain and idle butterflies of that vicious -court, that my scorn extended to the whole sex, and I fancied I should -never give one thought to any man in the whole world. You know, -Eugenie, and I know too well, how much I was mistaken. At length came -one who sought my love as others had not sought it. Four years, or -more, have since passed, my friend, and those years have changed him -not for the better. There was a freshness of young feeling about him -then, that is now gone, and it was that which first won a way to my -heart. I now found that, if my heart had been difficult to move, when -once it was moved, like a rock broken by some earthquake from the -Alps, it was likely to bear all away before it. Oh, how I loved him, -Eugenie! and when, after having, I own, made him sigh for many a -month, to prove his love for me, I at length let him know that I did -not feel towards him as towards the rest of men, and that he might, at -some distant time, hope for the hand of Beatrice of Ferrara, the -relief, alas! was greater to my heart than his. Then came the change -over him, Eugenie. I believe he had injured his fortune with those -hateful dice; the hope of obtaining your hand was held out to him; -ambition and interest called him loudly to pursue that prospect; for I -was poor, comparatively, and had no hope of better fortunes; and I -heard that he was offering his vows to Eugenie de Menancourt. I -resolved to see with my own eyes if this was true; and as the queen -was then about to undertake one of her gay and politic progresses -through Maine, I joined her, with my young brother; for my faithful -nurse was by that time dead, and I did not choose to dwell in that -court alone. You remember well, Eugenie, those days, and how my truant -lover seemed chained, like a slave, to my bridle-rein. My pride was -satisfied, if my heart was not, and I returned to Paris. He remained -some months behind, and when he came, I found that he was changed -indeed. He fled my society, and yet he seemed struggling with himself; -full of passion and tenderness when we met, his words were wild and -strange: he plunged deep into the vices of the court; and, though I -saw and knew he loved me still, yet I resolved, by appearing to -despise his conduct, and to forget himself, to recall him, if possible -to better deeds. I went down to the dwelling of my brother in Maine, -and there, roaming wildly over the country, I soon heard enough to -show me that, notwithstanding all his large possessions, the Count -d'Aubin was struggling vainly with the consequences of his own -follies. There was then a contagious disease raging here in France, -and my brother caught it, and died. His possessions fell to me. I had -it now in my power to raise up again him I loved, and to sweep his -embarrassments away; and it became my favourite dream to reclaim him -from all evil, to lead him back to virtue and to right, to restore him -to honour and to station, and to make him owe to me at once peace of -mind and ease of fortune. For the last two years I have laboured for -this object, Eugenie, by many a different means. I have been thwarted -by accident, and by his own perversity; but I cling the more -tenaciously to those hopes, the weaker becomes the foundation on which -they rest. Sad and sorry I am to say he has weakened it more and more -every hour; but yet, Eugenie, I hope. I have had him watched, Eugenie, -not that I might know his weaknesses, for to those I have ever shut my -ears, but in order to seize the moment, if ever the moment should -come, for snatching him from his follies or from his evil fate. To -himself I have pretended to hate and despise him, the better to -conceal my views, and also to make him feel my kindness the more when -my time comes. Sometimes I think, however, that he suspects me; and a -dwarf page, who has been attached to me from my childhood, and whom, -in other days, I gave to him to be his cupbearer, he sent away, a year -or more ago, to his cousin St. Real. I had directed that page to give -me notice of all that passed in Philip d'Aubin's household; but the -tidings he gave were scanty, even while he was there, and as soon as -he was gone, I formed a bold resolution, which I executed boldly. -Shortly after you had come to Paris with your father, and I had -contrived to gain your love and confidence, you may remember that -Philip d'Aubin went down to Maine; and I did hope, that, in -companionship with so noble a heart as his cousin St. Real, and under -the eye of the good old Marquis, who was then living, his better -feelings might expand, like flowers in the sunshine; and I resolved, -at any risk, to go down thither and watch him myself; for I knew that -men, to whom he owed large sums, were pressing him hard, and that, had -it not been for these sad wars, his estates would long ago have -suffered from their claims. I thought that the moment might come when -the full and tender generosity, which is so often to be found in -woman's heart, might have room to act, that I might save him from the -consequences of his own faults, and thus, perhaps, save him from those -faults themselves. I contrived, by means of the dwarf, to force -several of my own servants into the household of St. Real; and I was -following down rapidly myself, to try whether I could not, for a time, -obtain admission there also, when messengers from my uncle Albert, -telling me of the death of Ferdinand, the usurper of my little state, -conveying to me considerable treasure, and beseeching me to return, -and take possession of territories which were now universally -acknowledged as my own, reached me at Orleans, and brought me back to -Paris.</p><p class="normal">"As soon as I had dispatched them back with other letters, begging my -uncle to rule in my stead till my return, I pursued my plan; but -D'Aubin had, in the meantime, returned to Paris, and had thence again -been summoned to the sick bed of his uncle of St. Real. Of this I knew -nothing, however; and, after manifold risks and difficulties, owing, -perhaps, to the negligence, perhaps to the malice, of the dwarf -Bartholo, I accomplished my object, and found myself established as a -page in the house of the lords of St. Real. I had determined, in any -great difficulty, to apply at once to the old Marquis, and tell him -all my history and all my views; but I found him dying, and soon saw -that I must withdraw from the household into which I had thus -intruded, or risk detection, and, perhaps, ill repute. To guard my -name at home, however, I caused my women to give out that I was ill of -the fever; and they played their part with skill. Day by day, however, -my disguise produced more and more pain to myself; for I had but -hourly proofs of how completely D'Aubin had given himself up to the -vices and follies of his comrades of the court; and I determined, soon -after St. Real and his cousin reached Paris, to cast that disguise off -at once. The wealth which I had now at command in that venal city, and -in these venal times, procured me every sort of facility in coming and -going between Paris and St. Cloud; and I believe that, for one half -the sum which I possessed unknown within the town, I could have -procured regular passes for the two kings and all their troops to -march quietly in and take possession of the capital. Thus, as soon as -I had notice of the last sad and daring means which Philip d'Aubin was -about to employ against you, my Eugenie,--the most base and profligate -step of any he had yet taken,--I cast myself at the king's feet, who -owed me some gratitude for a former service; told him your situation, -my own plan for saving you, and besought him to give me his -assistance. He did so in a generous manner, and even furnished me with -intelligence to give Mayenne from the Prince of Parma, which is -certain to mislead and puzzle the Duke regarding all our plans. -Learning from an attendant, whom I still have in D'Aubin's service, -that the Count had bound himself to set out on the very evening of his -marriage for Maine, I conceived the Duke of Mayenne's plans at once; -all his views; all his policy. I set every engine to work to gain -information. I had his chaplain seized and carried away; I induced a -wild drunken Huguenot soldier, not without talents, but without -religion or principle, to enact the priest, and brought him to the -Hotel de Guise at the moment that a priest was wanted. I took care -that your refusal should be witnessed by so many, that, even had the -person who performed the ceremony been what he seemed, the whole would -have been illegal; but I also ensured that proof of the man's -condition, and of all the other facts, should be lodged in the hands -of the king, so as to render you free as air. And now, dear Eugenie, -here we are, safe and at liberty, with a bark to bear you to England, -if the king should lose the approaching battle; and, doubtless, you -wonder that, with all I have seen, and with all I know, I can for one -moment think again of Philip d'Aubin. Such is the voice of reason, -Eugenie, and the voice of sense; but there is another voice in my -heart, which drowns them all, and fills my mind with excuses for his -conduct--vain and light, indeed, as the changing clouds upon the sky, -I know; but still those clouds cast shadows, which alter the aspect of -everything whereon they fall; and so, to my weak eyes, the excuses -found by love cast an obscuring shade upon his actions, which will not -suffer me to see them as I should if the full sun of unbiassed -judgment shone upon them. I will make one more effort, dear Eugenie--I -will essay one more trial; I will find the means of serving him deeply -and truly; and if he be then ungrateful, I can cast him off--and die."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, not so, Beatrice!" replied Eugenie; "make every effort; try every -means; but, even if all should fail, talk not of dying, but seek -happiness in some other shape."</p><p class="normal">"In vain, Eugenie! in vain!" replied Beatrice, "all the feelings of my -heart are engaged in this one effort. If it fail, there will be -nothing else left for me on earth. The body may live, Eugenie--it -perhaps may linger on some few years; but the heart and the soul are -dead. Still, let us hope better things, dear friend; you have read me -a happy fate in those passing clouds and the sunshine that followed, -and I will trust----"</p><p class="normal">As she spoke, an attendant hurried in. "They are flying, madam!" he -said; "they are flying!"</p><p class="normal">"Who?" demanded Beatrice, eagerly, "who are flying?"</p><p class="normal">"Mayenne's horse, madam," replied the man: "do you not hear the -cannon? They have been fighting at Arques for these four hours."</p><p class="normal">"Send out! send out to see!" cried Beatrice. "On this battle may -depend our future fate, dear Eugenie."</p><p class="normal">In less than an hour the news of Mayenne's defeat was borne to -Beatrice and Eugenie; and the servant who brought it added, that he -had seen the king and Monsieur de St. Real both quite safe, and -directing the operations which followed up the victory.</p><p class="normal">"Thank God for this, also!" replied Beatrice. "This battle will secure -the western provinces to the king; and now, dear Eugenie, ere I wend -my way back to Paris, we will journey together to Maine, where, -between my lands and yours, there lies a spot secluded and calm, and -surrounded by people attached both to you and to me. Mayenne must fall -back on Picardy; the king will march on Paris; and Maine will offer a -safer asylum than even this which we possess at present."</p><p class="normal">The political anticipations of Beatrice of Ferrara were not far wrong: -scarcely had the day of Arques been won, when the English succour -disembarked at Dieppe. Henry effected his junction with the Duke of -Longueville and the Count of Soisson, the former of whom had been -detached to levy troops; and then resuming the offensive, he marched -in search of Mayenne, and attempted to provoke him to another battle. -Retreating upon Picardy, however, Mayenne avoided the large force -which was now opposed to him; and, by a number of skilful operations, -both military and political, repaired the disadvantages incurred by -the lost field of Arques. Anxious to withdraw him from a province into -which, from the disaffection of many of the larger towns, the royal -forces could not with safety follow him, Henry marched direct upon -Paris, and, taking several unimportant places by the way, attacked and -carried the suburbs of the capital itself, to the horror and dismay of -the Leaguers. The scheme was perfectly successful. Mayenne, in terror -lest the metropolis should be lost, spurred with all speed to Paris, -leaving his army to follow as they might. The forces of the Royalists -was not sufficiently numerous to invest the city entirely; and the -troops of Mayenne following from Picardy soon placed such a number of -men within the walls as to set farther attack at defiance.</p><p class="normal">Withdrawing from a useless enterprise, Henry retreated upon Mont -l'Hery, and then turned upon Etampes; taking a number of towns under -the very eyes of the League, the leaders of which seemed little -disposed to risk the chances of another battle. Thus passed the -winter, and a considerable part of the spring. The town of Le Mans, it -is true, made some resistance to the royal arms, but at length -yielded; and thence directing expeditions towards different parts of -the country, the gallant monarch recovered a great part of the rich -provinces towards the centre of France. Almost all Maine and a -considerable part of Normandy were now subject to the king; and, -amongst the rest, the lands of Eugenie de Menancourt were, for a time, -occupied by the royal troops. The tenantry, however, and the vassals, -had been generally called into the field, by the Count d'Aubin, who -had by this time joined Mayenne in Paris; and the changing events of -the war soon obliged the monarch to withdraw his troops from that part -of Maine, and advance to new victories and more important conquests.</p><p class="normal">Shortly before Easter, Henry IV. had laid siege to Dreux, in Normandy; -and Mayenne having taken the castle of Vincennes, Poissi, and several -other places, endeavoured to reduce Meulan. The demonstrations of the -royal army, however, showed a purpose of compelling him to raise the -siege; and having been joined by fresh levies from various parts of -France, and considerable reinforcements from the low countries, he -determined to risk another battle; and for the purpose of choosing his -own ground put his army in motion. Nonancourt had fallen before the -arms of Henry IV. and the siege of Dreux was rapidly advancing; when -news reached the royal camp of various unexpected movements on the -part of the army of the League. First came tidings that five thousand -infantry had passed the bridge of Mantes; then came reports of large -forces of cavalry having been seen in march on both sides of the -Seine; and, lastly, intelligence was brought to the king that the -foragers of the Duke of Mayenne had appeared in the neighbourhood of -Dammartin.</p><p class="normal">Calling his principal officers to council, Henry informed them of the -tidings he had received, and then at once made his own comment; and -announced his determination thus:--"From these facts, my friends, it -is evident that our good cousin of Mayenne is seeking us; and -therefore I propose instantly to raise the siege of Dreux."</p><p class="normal">The members of the council looked in each other's faces, with glances -of surprise at such an unexpected proposal from one who was not, in -general, easily turned from his enterprises. Henry for a moment -suffered their astonishment to continue, and then added, with a smile; -"You seem surprised, my friends; but I have no scruple in regard to -abandoning a siege when it is for the purpose of fighting a battle. -What say you, my gallant St. Real; will you strike for Henry IV. as -bravely here as you did at Arques?"</p><p class="normal">"With all my heart, sire!" replied St. Real; and this is one of the -few instances on record of a council in which there existed no -difference of opinion.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Willingly we turn once more from the dull, dry page of history--that -uninteresting record which no one reads in these days, and probably -never will again, unless by some unforeseen accident the world should -grow wiser and better--to the more entertaining and instructive -accidents and adventures of the individual characters, which, with -somewhat less skill than that of a Philidore, we have been moving -about upon the little chess-board before us. It is always the most -skilful game, we are told, to begin with the pawns, of which we are -well aware, though we somewhat deviated from that rule in the -commencement; but now that we have got our pieces scattered about in -different directions, and have just been obliged to make the king -abandon his attack upon the castle, we must even have recourse to -pieces which we have found very useful in many a previous game, and -play this chapter out with the knights.</p><p class="normal">The evening was cold and still; for the ordinary winds of March had -not yet begun to blow, although that month was well advanced; and the -dull heavy clouds that hung over the world might descend in rain, or -might still assert the rule of winter, and come down in a fall of -snow. The sky, therefore, looked chill and comfortless to the eyes of -a considerable body of the army of the League, as it moved along the -heavy and channelled roads in the neighbourhood of Evreux; and to say -sooth, the aspect of the earth itself was but little more cheering -than that of the heaven which canopied it. Days of trouble had -impoverished the land, and the cold season which had just passed had -left the earth brown and rugged; while the woods, that swept over -every favourable slope, presented nothing but a tangled mass of dull -grey branches, diversified alone by a few patches of crisp yellow -leaves, that adhered, with all the tenacity of old attachment, to the -stems which were soon to cast them off for the greener and gayer -children of the spring. Thinly peopled, too, was then the land; and -though here and there a village church raised its tower against the -evening sky, or a cottage appeared upon the upland, in many instances -the bell had long ceased to sound from amidst the scenes that war had -visited; very often the light of the cottage was found extinguished, -and the fire of the once warm hearth gone out for ever. The hamlets -were few, and generally gathered round some castle, which afforded the -inhabitants refuge or protection in time of need; and solitary but -inhabited cottages, if met with at all, were but mere huts, in which -dwelt the lowest and most miserable of the population, upon whom war -itself could inflict nothing worse than existence.</p><p class="normal">In short, the whole scene was cold and desolate; and its effect upon -the mind of one of the leaders, who conducted the detachment we have -mentioned, was such as it was naturally calculated to produce. He had -ridden on, at about the distance of half a mile from the head of the -mingled masses of cavalry and infantry which were under his command; -and, accompanied by one companion, and several attendants, advanced -silently upon the rude road, which, winding along the side of an easy -hill, displayed a wide extent of dull grey slopes, slightly tinted -here and there with a faint and melancholy hue of green, till a dark -and gloomy wood, at several leagues' distance, cut sharp upon the -leaden sky, and closed the cheerless prospect. Although the eye of -Philip d'Aubin, for such was the horseman we have spoken of, roved far -and wide over the uninviting face of the country, it was clear that he -looked not upon it as a general reconnoitring the land through which -he passed, with the keen glance of strategic inquiry; but rather that -he seemed to regard it with the look of one whose heart--not wholly -dead to nobler feelings than those which armed him in civil strife -upon a bad and unjustifiable cause--grieved for the state of ruin in -which his native land was plunged, although his own evil passions -aided to produce the desolation that he lamented.</p><p class="normal">The other who rode beside him, Albert of Wolfstrom, drew his cloak -round him, and, as he gazed upon the bleak and desolate landscape, -thought of nothing but himself. Mercenary by nature and by habit, he -scarcely knew what it is to have a country; and--like many others who -believe themselves to be citizens of the world--in truth and in -reality, his own individual selfishness was his world, his country, -and his home. D'Aubin knew the nature of the man too well to suffer -the slightest hint of what was passing in his own bosom to escape his -lips; well aware that his companion could not understand his feelings, -and that, setting aside even the mercenary leader's own particular -philosophy, there was cant of many kinds to be brought forward against -the sensations which forced themselves upon him; for where was yet the -unholy cause which did not inscribe upon its banners the names of -virtue, religion, patriotism, and honour?</p><p class="normal">"It is a chilly night," he said, as he remarked the action of his -companion; "it is a chilly night, Wolfstrom!"</p><p class="normal">"Ay, and a dreary prospect," answered his companion. "Which, think -you, my noble Count, shall we have to warm our blood tonight with; -raising the wine cup, shaking the dice, or hard blows upon bright -steel?"</p><p class="normal">"With wine, if anything," replied D'Aubin; "Mayenne is not one fond of -night encounters and sudden surprises; and if he have not fought the -king's force to-day, which is not likely, he will let another sun rise -ere he strike a blow. As for dice, you know, I have abjured them."</p><p class="normal">"Ay do I, to my sorrow," answered Wolfstrom; "for we have not had one -merry night since we began our march; but, by my life, it is a dreary -prospect. I trust that all the centre of this good land is not so bare -and wasted. I have been so long in Picardy, where things wear a better -aspect, that I expected not this sad scene in Normandy."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin turned upon him an inquiring eye, not understanding, for a -moment, what curious combination could have excited in the bosom of -the adventurer anything like feelings of regret for the devastation of -any land on earth. "You are compassionate, Wolfstrom!" he said: -"France indeed has suffered terrible evils; and Normandy, lately, more -than all; for here has been the hottest fire of war during the last -four months."</p><p class="normal">"And pray has not Maine suffered as much?" demanded Wolfstrom in a -quiet tone.</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin laughed aloud: "By the Lord!" he exclaimed, "I thought thy -heart had grown mighty tender over the woes of France, most worthy and -considerate Wolfstrom; forgetting, that in the <i>hypothčque,</i><a name="div4Ref_04" href="#div4_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a> which I -gave thee over my lands in Maine, on account of that accursed throw of -the dice, thou hast acquired a certain tender and generous interest in -my unhappy country, through the only channel by which thy heart can be -reached,--but rest satisfied! The war would be sweeping and desolating -indeed, which would leave the lands of Aubin unable to pay the pitiful -interest of thy pitiful debt; and besides, I shall soon be able to -discharge the whole, and load thee with that sort of moveable ore, -which is better suited to thy purposes and thy nature than any claim -upon the soil."</p><p class="normal">"You mean when your marriage can be completed with Mademoiselle de -Menancourt," replied Wolfstrom, not unwilling to retort some of the -bitterness of Aubin's speech upon himself. "By my faith, Sir Count, if -it wait till then, it will wait long enough apparently; for your fond -and affectionate bride seems to conceal herself from your longing arms -with wonderful skill and perseverance."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin bit his lip, and paused for several minutes ere he replied; -but wrath he felt was vain in regard to circumstances far too well -known to admit the possibility of concealment, however much it might -sting him to find them a subject of common conversation to every -mercenary follower of the camp. It cost him an effort, indeed, to -smother all the angry feelings at his heart; but that effort over, he -replied in a tone of calmness that disappointed Wolfstrom's malice: -"She does, indeed, conceal herself skilfully," he said; "and in truth, -I little thought that so slight an offence as I gave her would so -deeply wound woman's jealous love, or I should have taken greater care -to please; but as soon as this battle is over, and these provinces -cleared, I will bend my whole thoughts and efforts to the search; and -when once I have found her, a few words of apology, and a few vows of -eternal love and fidelity, will set the whole to rights again."</p><p class="normal">"I heard that you tried all that before," replied Wolfstrom, dryly; -"and the good, free-spoken Parisians seems to think, that it was love -for one cousin made her run away from the other so eagerly; at least, -so Madame de Montpensier, and the Duchess of Guise, and young La -Tremblaye, and several others, fancied."</p><p class="normal">"It is false as hell!" cried D'Aubin; "and those who say it, and those -who repeat it, lie."</p><p class="normal">"I trust it is false," answered Wolfstrom, calmly; "and will not take -up the hard word you have used just now, Monsieur d'Aubin, till the -battle is over, and our personal affairs are in a little better order. -After that, however, I shall have to inquire how far the word lie was -applied to my share in the story. At present, let me say, that my -repeating unpalatable rumours to you was but an act of kindness, -intended to direct your mind towards a particular point. Even -supposing that nothing like love exists between your cousin and this -fair fugitive, every one knows that he used to regard her as a brother -might a sister; and it is a common supposition that she has fled to -his protection, and is concealed by his assistance."</p><p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense, Wolfstrom!" replied D'Aubin, musing a little -while he spoke. "It is all nonsense, depend upon it; and as to the -word lie, I applied it alone, of course, to those who spread such -reports maliciously--not to you. Eugenie, wherever she has fled, has -too deep a sense of female modesty to put herself under the protection -of any idle boy, like my cousin of St. Real."</p><p class="normal">"Pardie! call him not an idle boy!" cried Wolfstrom. "Call him rather -a stout soldier, and skilful commander; for such has he proved himself -in all these last affairs; and the very best in either camp may now -and then take a lesson from him."</p><p class="normal">"Pshaw!" said D'Aubin. "You are credulous, Wolfstrom! The followers of -the Bearnois take care to vaunt their great officers and skilful -soldiers, in order to make up, by the fears of their adversaries, for -their own want of strength. Do not let us be such gulls as to believe -them; and only let us so far reckon on their power, as to take every -means of employing our own to the best advantage. Do not you spare -your men, Wolfstrom; for one of these great battles lost might place -the whole of France in the power of the Bearnois."</p><p class="normal">"I shall neither spare my men nor my person, as I am bound in honour," -answered Wolfstrom; "but it matters little to me whether France falls -under the power of the Bearnois or not. The term for which I took arms -will soon be expired; and I can always find employment for my sword, -thanks to the Protestants and Catholics here and in other lands."</p><p class="normal">"True," replied D'Aubin; "but you may find my lands confiscated to the -crown for treason and rebellion some fine day, if the Bearnois wins -the day of us ultimately; and then what becomes of your <i>hypothčque?</i>"</p><p class="normal">"That consideration shall make me give a good stroke or two more, my -dear friend," replied the German coolly; "but I seldom find means -wanting to repay myself; and, methinks, if the Bearnois does beat us -completely, and declares himself your heir, I shall still contrive to -skin his inheritance before I go."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin made no reply, and for some time the two commanders rode on in -silence; the German leader probably calculating upon the best means of -skinning, as he termed it, other men's inheritance, and the Count -d'Aubin, on his part, revolving bitterly all that had just passed in a -conversation which presented so very few agreeable points for the mind -to rest on. What his companion had said in regard to Eugenie and St. -Real, he had repelled only the more angrily because it was confirmed -by suspicions existing previously in his own mind; for such is the -nature of the human heart, to combat on the lips of others the -self-same feelings that we experience with terror within us. To that -point of their conversation, therefore, did he most earnestly turn his -thoughts; and bitter and angry were the sensations which he now felt -towards a being whom he had once loved, but who had since committed -the unforgiveable offence of holding firm to virtue and to honour -where D'Aubin's own grasp had given way. Gradually as he nourished and -pampered the doubts and suspicions within him, the emotions of his -mind communicated themselves to his features and to his frame; and -suddenly remembering himself, as he was spurring on his horse under -the impulse of his irritated feelings, he affected to see some object -in the distant plain, and asked his companion whether he did not -perceive a light in the eastern part of the landscape.</p><p class="normal">Wolfstrom answered in the negative; and the conversation between them -was renewed, but took a different turn, touching chiefly upon the -chances of a battle on the following day, the respective forces of the -Royalists and Leaguers, and the probability of success on either part.</p><p class="normal">"We should soon know how the strife will end, if we were in my -country," said Wolfstrom; "at least, we might easily find persons to -tell us."</p><p class="normal">"How so?" demanded D'Aubin. "I hear that our holy Father the Pope, -although friendly to our cause, predicts that the day will go against -us."</p><p class="normal">"Ay, but in Germany," replied Wolfstrom, "we should find those who -pretend to know as much as his holiness, and do know a great deal -more. Have you never heard, that in the Odenwald, when a war is about -to begin, the Wild Huntsman goes out with all his dogs, and that, on -the tops of our mountains, on many a stormy night, the spirits of the -rivers and the floods hold their meetings, and reveal dark secrets of -coming events to those who have the courage to go and consult them?"</p><p class="normal">"No, indeed, Wolfstrom," answered D'Aubin, "I never did hear all that; -and I can but say, that I think those spirits must be very foolish -spirits to haunt Germany at all, when there is many a warmer and a -fairer land would be very willing to receive them; and still more -foolish to go up to the tops of mountains on a stormy night! No, no, -Wolfstrom; I am no believer in spirits, or ghosts, or phantasms, or -necromancers, or any sort of portents, except the wonders to be -effected by strong wits and strong arms."</p><p class="normal">"Say many a warmer land, if you will," replied Wolfstrom, angry at -D'Aubin's sneer at his native country. "Say many a warmer land, if you -will, but not many a fairer; for the whole earth does not contain a -fairer than Germany. Why, everything that stream, and mountain, and -forest, rich plain, and sweeping upland, can do to make a land lovely -is to be found in Germany: but as you have not seen it, you cannot -judge; and as to your disbelief in portents, you, as every other -incredulous doubter, will some day be convinced."</p><p class="normal">"Never!" answered D'Aubin, with a laugh: "but now, good Sir Albert, as -night is falling, and we shall not reach St. Andre before midnight, I -think we had better fall back to our men, and throw out some scouts. -Not that I fear surprise; for as Mayenne is between us and the enemy, -it would be strange to meet with a foe before we rejoin our friends. -'Tis as well, however, always to hold one's self prepared."</p><p class="normal">The views of the leader of the reitters perfectly coincided in this -cautious doctrine; and D'Aubin and his companion, slackening their -pace, suffered the head of their corps to come up with them. -Arrangements were then made for a night march; and the sun went down -ere they had proceeded far, bursting forth for a moment as he touched -the edge of the horizon, and dyeing the heavy clouds that rolled -around him with a dull and misty red. The clock struck nine as the -Count and his forces entered the little village of Gross[oe]uvre; and -the leaders, riding forward to the old chateau, were welcomed with -kindness and hospitality by the ancestors of my poor friend, the -gallant and chivalrous De Vitermont, one of the noble and generous -hearts of France, who, after having shed his blood, and lost health -and comfort in defence of his country, could still hold out the hand -of friendship and affection to those who had smitten him so severely, -but who were enemies no more.</p><p class="normal">So good was the wine, so hospitable the hearth at which he sat, that -Albert of Wolfstrom, with the true love of a soldier of fortune for -comfortable quarters, would fain have delayed the farther march till -morning, alleging that the horses and men were both fatigued, and -could just as well proceed an hour or two before daylight as at that -late hour of the night. D'Aubin, however, would not hear of delay; -well knowing of how much importance it is to bring troops fresh into -the field, rather than wearied with a long march. Determined, -therefore, that whatever rest the soldiers obtained should be as near -the expected field of battle as possible, at eleven o'clock he caused -the trumpets to sound; and shortly after the troops were once more on -their march towards the small town of Ivry, at which place the Duke of -Mayenne was now ascertained to be. A circuitous route, however, was -necessarily followed through the great plain which lies between Pacy -and St. Andre, as the latter place was understood to be occupied by -the forces of the king. Sure guides had been obtained, indeed, at -Gross[oe]uvre, and much were they needed, for the night was as dark as -the mouth of Acheron; and not a ray found its way through the black -covering of clouds to mark the road from the fields amongst which it -wound. The air was calm and still; and no sound was to be heard except -the occasional howling of the wolves, which were then frequent, and -are not now uncommon, in the many woods which diversify that part of -the country. Instead of bringing additional chilliness to the -atmosphere, however, the night had become warm, and was growing more -and more sultry as it advanced; and every now and then the wind, as if -struggling to rise against some oppressive burden in the sky, came -with a momentary gust of hot breath, which instantly fell again, and -all was still.</p><p class="normal">"It will turn to rain!" said D'Aubin, speaking to Wolfstrom, who rode -beside him; "it has grown too hot for snow."</p><p class="normal">"No, no, noble Sir!" replied the old man who walked beside D'Aubin's -bridle-rein, to show him the way; "that which you feel is the hot -breath of the battle coming up! They will fight to-morrow, that is -certain! When I served with the Great Duke, we never felt a night like -this, without being sure that there would be bloody work the next -morning, whether we expected it before or not."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed!" said D'Aubin; but as he spoke, a slight momentary flash -played along the verge of the far sky, showing, for the brief instant -that it lasted, the plain and the woods around, and then leaving all -blank and dark once more.</p><p class="normal">"Ay, that's always the way," said the old man; "the spirits of the two -armies are trying to-night which will have the victory to-morrow. We -shall hear more of it soon."</p><p class="normal">Several minutes, however, elapsed without his prophecy being verified; -and D'Aubin began to fancy, that what he had at first supposed to be a -flash of lightning had proceeded from the discharge of some distant -gun, the report of which had escaped his ear; when again a broad blaze -illumined the sky, and a clap of thunder, resembling the discharge of -a whole park of artillery, echoed and re-echoed through the air. Then -came another pause; but the moment after appeared a spectacle -which--if it had not been seen by the unimaginative Sully, and the -keen and inquiring eyes of D'Avila the historian, as well as those of -every other person then awake in either host,--might well have passed -for a superstitious fable. The sky became suddenly in a blaze with -flickering lightning, which scarcely left it for a moment in darkness; -while in the midst appeared forms of fire, like those of mounted -horsemen and charging squadrons. Shifting, advancing, wheeling, now -meeting in impetuous shock, now mingled in the confusion of the -<i>mźlée</i>, now broken and scattered, now fleeing, now rallied, the -aerial combatants acted in the clouds the fierce drama of a -hard-contested field of battle before the eyes of the astonished -soldiers. For some minutes an uncommanded halt took place; the -soldiers gazed upon the blazing sky with eyes of wonder and terror; -several of the horses started from the ranks, and were only brought -back by skill and strength; and then stood with foaming hides and -distended nostrils, straining their eyes, with their riders, on the -bright but fearful phenomenon above them. Still that strange warfare -in the sky seemed to go on, while the thunder rolled around in one -incessant peal; and gradually shaking off the first effects of terror, -the soldiery began to take an interest in the scene, worked up their -imaginations to the belief that the combat was real. So complete at -length was the illusion, that when the phantom army appeared defeated -by their adversaries, and the forms that composed it were driven over -the sky in confusion, the trumpeter of the horsemen of Aubin -instinctively put his clarion to his lips, and blew a rally. The Count -took advantage of the incident to give the word to march; and turning -to Albert of Wolfstrom, as he spurred on his horse, exclaimed, "In -truth, in truth, this is very strange!"</p><p class="normal">The troops followed their commander in some disarray; but ere they -reached the edge of the upland the pageant had passed away, and all -was darkness, except when an occasional flash of lightning broke for -an instant across the sky.<a name="div4Ref_05" href="#div4_05"><sup>[5]</sup></a></p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXIX.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">The morning of the fourteenth of March broke through a sky filled with -scattered clouds, the light fragments of the past-by storm, which, -borne away by a quick soft wind, hurried shadowy over the laughing -sunshine of the early day, like the momentary woes and cares of -infancy. After a night of watchfulness and inquietude, the soldiers of -Henry IV. rose not the less full of hope and courage, for all they had -endured. Marching out from the villages in which they had been -quartered, they advanced to a position which the king had chosen some -time before, and which his army had occupied the greater part of the -preceding day, in expectation of being attacked by the forces of -Mayenne, whose army had been in sight during the whole afternoon.</p><p class="normal">Some apprehension had been entertained in the Royalist camp during the -night, lest the enemy should have retired across the Eure, to avoid a -combat which bade fair to decide the fate of France; but the first -dawn of the morning effaced this fear, by showing the outposts of -Mayenne, still occupying the edge of the gentle slope which terminated -the plain towards Monēeaux and La Neuvillette. The main body of the -Leaguers had, indeed, withdrawn to a little from the position they had -occupied on the preceding day; but this movement had only taken place -in order that they might pass the inclement night which followed in -the shelter afforded by the villages towards Ivry; and ere the monarch -had been long on his ground, the heavy masses of cavalry and infantry -which supported Mayenne were seen congregating on the upland, -considerably increased in number by reinforcements which had arrived -during the night, and early in the morning.</p><p class="normal">Some small bodies also had joined the forces of the king; and although -the rolls of the League presented at least double the number of names -which the list of Henry's followers could display, yet upon the part -of the Royalists there was that undoubting, confident resolution, -which so often commands success, joined to that cautious energy which -insures it against almost every chance.</p><p class="normal">Towards ten o'clock, the position of the royal army was taken up, the -squadrons of cavalry formed along the whole line, and the infantry -disposed in masses between the small bodies of the horse. On the right -appeared the squadron of the Marechal d'Aumont, with several infantry -regiments; towards the centre were the cannon, few in number, but well -placed, and directed by officers of skill and activity; and on the -left was the squadron of the king himself, with the reserve of the -Marechal de Biron. The appearance of the royal host offered nothing -very brilliant; for every leader amongst the Royalists had been so -long expelled from the gay capital, and so many of them had suffered -in fortune by their attachment to the monarch, that steel--cold grey -steel--was the only ornament that the ranks of Henry IV. presented. -The king himself appeared amongst his troops without that surcoat of -arms which was borne even by the poorest gentleman on the other side; -but in order that he might be known and distinguished in the <i>mźlée</i>, -a large white plume of feathers rose above his casque, and a similar -mark was placed in the head of his battle charger. It was thus he -appeared in the front of the squadron he particularly commanded, when -the young Marquis of St. Real and several other gentlemen rode up, and -sought permission to fight near the person of his Majesty.</p><p class="normal">"No, no, St. Real," replied the king; "you will be required at the -head of your own troops."</p><p class="normal">"I can perfectly trust my lieutenant, sire," replied St. Real. "If you -will grant me my request, I will answer for his conducting the troops -as well as I could myself."</p><p class="normal">"No, St. Real, no!" answered the monarch, again smiling gaily upon -him; "I must not have all my best officers in one place. I am vain -enough to think that my own hand is here a host, and I must have my -gallant friends posted where they may do as much. Besides, I have -other work for you. Here is my noble Rosny, who has brought me up -James's arquebusiers from Passy: I wish you to join them to your -force, and hold yourself as the commander of my own especial reserve. -If you see my squadron broken, come to my aid,--but not otherwise, -mind. You won glory enough at Arques, St. Real, and you must let us -have our share here. But stay; were you not in the room last night -when Schomberg came to ask for his men's pay, and I spoke somewhat -harshly to him in reply?"</p><p class="normal">"I was, sire," replied St. Real, bowing his head gravely; for he had -thought at the time, that the king had treated the veteran unkindly.</p><p class="normal">"Well, then, come with me!" said Henry: "you witnessed the fault, you -must witness the reparation." Thus saying, he rode along the line, -followed by St. Real and about twenty other horsemen, sometimes -pausing to gaze upon the swarming host of Mayenne, which, crowning the -opposite slope, was making every disposition for immediate battle; -sometimes turning towards his own army to address the heads of the -squadrons he passed, or the gentlemen who accompanied him. "Ha! there -is the white standard and black <i>fleurs de lis</i> of the Guises!" he -exclaimed, speaking to St. Real. "Our good cousin of Mayenne must be -in person on the field already. 'Tis a wonder he is so soon up! How -mild the day is, De Givry! Well! you and your brave fellows, I see, -run no risk of overheating yourselves before the battle; for, by my -faith, we have none of us much over-clothing besides cold steel. Ah! -Monsieur de Brigneux, you have a good view of the enemy, and will not -lose sight of them till they have tasted the quality of your steel, -I'll warrant. They must be two to one, Vignoles! I am sure I hope they -are; for I would not have to defeat a less force for one half of -Burgundy. They tell me our friends from Picardy are within two miles; -but faith, I shall not wait till they come up, lest we should have too -many to share our glory. Ha! here we are, St. Real; do me the favour -of putting your foot to the ground with me."</p><p class="normal">St. Real instantly flung his rein to an attendant, and followed the -king on foot to the head of a regiment, where sat a strong elderly -man, whose countenance--the features of which were bland and -mild--wore a stern and sullen air, and whose cheek, showing here and -there the red lines of florid health, was now, nevertheless, pale in -its general hue. He dismounted from his horse as the monarch -approached, and rendered him a military salute with the same grave -sternness which had marked his aspect ere the king came up. Henry, -however, instantly laid his hand upon his arm in silence and led -him back--for he had advanced a few steps--to the head of his -regiment; and then, when every soldier in the ranks could hear, he -said,--"Colonel Schomberg, we are now on what will soon be a field of -battle, and it is very possible that I may remain upon it. I gave you -hard words last night; and it is not fair that I should carry out of -the world with me the honour of a brave gentleman like you. I come, -therefore, to recall what I said, and publicly to declare, that I hold -you for as good a man, and as gallant a soldier, as at this time -lives." Thus saying, he took the veteran in his mailed arms, and -pressed him to his bosom, while the warm tears streamed down the rough -cheek of the old soldier.</p><p class="normal">"Ah, sire!" cried Schomberg; "in restoring me the honour which your -words took from me, you now take from me life, for I should be -unworthy if I did not cast it away in your service; and if I had a -thousand, I should wish to pour them forth at the feet of such a -king."</p><p class="normal">"No, no!" said Henry, again embracing him; "spend your blood, -Schomberg, as I will mine, when there is need of it; but still keep it -as long as you can, for the service of your master. And now, my -friends, we will all do our duty. St. Real, my friend, to your post! -Schomberg, farewell! Monsieur de Vicq, have the kindness to tell the -Baron de Biron to advance the squadrons on the right for about two -hundred paces; for I see the front of the enemy begin to shake, and -the battle must be no longer delayed than sufficient to enable us to -get the sun and wind behind us, otherwise we shall be blinded with the -smoke and glare."</p><p class="normal">Henry now rode back to his squadron; and St. Real returned to the head -of his own forces, which had by this time been reinforced, according -to the king's command, by James's horse arquebusiers. Here the young -leader, now well accustomed to scenes of battle and victory, fixed his -eyes upon the squadron of the king; and though anxious, with all the -fire of a chivalrous heart, to take an active share in the coming -contest, he yet determined to observe to the letter the orders he had -received; well knowing that they had been dictated by experience and -skill, such as he had not the vanity to believe he himself possessed. -Although the thought of danger or the thrill of fear never crossed his -bosom for a moment, yet the countenance of St. Real was grave and sad. -No man felt more for the suffering people of his native country, no -one regretted more deeply every fresh act of the great tragedy which -day after day deluged France with blood; but at the present moment, it -must be owned, St. Real's feelings were personal. He thought of -Eugenie de Menancourt; and his heart sunk, when, contemplating the -loss of the present battle, he suffered imagination to dwell on all to -which she might be exposed if the League were triumphant. Her real -situation he knew not, nor had he more than a vague idea of the -circumstances that attended her flight from Paris, for nought but -rumours of the event had reached him during his long service with the -royal army. But on that very morning he had learned from a trumpet, -who had brought him an insulting defiance from his cousin D'Aubin, -that the vassals of Menancourt were now led by the Count; that Eugenie -was still a fugitive from her home; and that it was generally supposed -amongst the Leaguers she had sought refuge with him. These tidings, at -least, taught him to believe that she was unprotected in the wide -world with which she was so little fitted to cope; and the letter of -his cousin showed him that misery and violence waited her, if fortune -favoured the arms of those who had already oppressed her.</p><p class="normal">Such thoughts called a pang into his bosom, and a cloud upon his brow; -but feeling that even his individual exertion might aid in winning a -field on which so much was staked, he sternly bent his thoughts to the -events immediately before him, and watched, as we have said, the -squadron of the king with steadfast and eager attention. Scarcely had -the monarch rejoined that squadron, when the army was put in motion; -and taking its left as a centre, wheeled a little, so as to gain the -advantage of the sun and wind. When this was completed, the troops -again halted in a position decidedly better than the former ground; -and the next moment, a horseman, riding from the side of the king, -galloped at full speed to the artillery. Only four cannon and two -culverines were on the ground upon the side of Henry IV; but they -instantly opened against the enemy, and were recharged and fired with -such rapidity, that ere Mayenne could bring his guns to bear, those of -the Royalists had nine times poured death and confusion into the midst -of his ranks. The squadrons of the League could be seen to shake and -waver under that terrible fire; and horseman after horseman, parting -from the spot where Mayenne and his officers were placed, galloped up -to the tardy cannoneers, as if to hasten them in the execution of -their duty. An ill-directed volley at length followed; and at the same -moment the light cavalry of the League advanced to charge the left of -the Royalists. They were met, however, half way, by the impetuous -D'Aumont; whose squadron, passing through them like a thunderbolt, -turned and charged them again. The battle then became general; troop -after squadron was hurried into the fight; the smoke rolled in heavy -masses over the plain; and one of the dense clouds thereof, sweeping -between the troops of St. Real and the squadron of the king, for -several minutes prevented the young noble from seeing aught but -indistinct forms of dark whirling masses, now lost, now appearing -again in the white wreaths of vapour. Anxious to fulfil his charge -exactly, he led his squadron a few yards in advance; and at the same -moment the smoke clearing away, allowed him to perceive the principal -mass of the enemy, in which appeared the standard, or cornet, as it -was called, of the Duke of Mayenne, in the very act of charging the -small square of cavalry headed by the king.</p><p class="normal">Wheeling the horse arquebusiers which had been joined to the troops of -St. Real, upon the flank of the advancing column, the English officer -who commanded them poured a volley into the ranks of the Leaguers, -which shook them severely; but still they came on at a thundering -pace, numbering nearly two thousand men; and the handful of gallant -gentlemen who surrounded the monarch were soon lost to the sight. The -heart of St. Real beat quick for his king; but the moment after, the -dark and struggling mass of Leaguers seemed rent by some mighty power -within. It reeled, it wavered; the clash of arms grew louder and -louder, and the flashing of pistols and the shouts of the combatants -were more distinctly heard where St. Real sat. The next moment forth -burst the unbroken squadron of the king, and wheeling rapidly, the -white plume pressed onward against the very front of the repulsed -enemy.</p><p class="normal">At that instant, however, Count Egmont, the brave but unworthy son of -a noble and patriotic father, cast himself in the way of the horsemen -of the League, who were in the very act of turning their bridles to -fly; rallied them with words of fire and indignation, and brought them -back in fury to the charge. Already somewhat disarrayed by the -fierceness of the combat, the king's squadron was broken in every -part; and though the white plume was still seen towering over the -thickest of the strife, St. Real felt that he had abstained enough, -and led on his squadron to the support of the monarch. In the very act -of charging, however, he observed a strong body of horse draw out from -behind a little wood, called <i>La Haye des Prés</i>, on the left of the -army of the League, and bear directly down upon him. A moment's glance -showed him the arms of Aubin and Menancourt; and the next instant he -beheld his cousin giving the order to charge. St. Real instantly -halted, so as not to expose his flank; and the troops of his cousin -galloped furiously towards him, till they were within the distance of -a hundred yards, when some hesitation was seen in their ranks.</p><p class="normal">"Thank God!" thought St. Real; "his heart is touched, and he will seek -some other foe."</p><p class="normal">But the next moment this hope was done away, and the hesitation was -otherwise explained. The forces of Aubin approached still nearer, but -at a slower pace; and at length the whole of the horsemen levied on -the lands of Menancourt halted short.</p><p class="normal">"Charge!" cried D'Aubin, with a gesture of furious indignation. -"Traitors, do you refuse to charge?" And galloping across the front, -he struck the headmost horseman of that troop a blow with his clenched -gauntlet that made him reel in the saddle. The man instantly recovered -himself, and shouting "For St. Real! for St Real! Vive Henri Quatre!" -galloped forward, followed by all the rest of the vassals of -Menancourt, who ranged themselves in good order by the troops of the -young Marquis.</p><p class="normal">The forces composed of D'Aubin's own followers, small in proportion, -had halted in some disarray while their leader had crossed them to -chastise the refractory trooper; and they now found themselves -suddenly opposed to a body of more than double their own number. -D'Aubin himself, it would seem, was taken by surprise, although it was -evident that the defection of the retainers of De Menancourt was a -premeditated act, and although he had long remarked a coolness in -their service, and a disposition to quarrel with his own followers. He -paused then in doubt, glaring with eyes of rage and hatred over the -powerful squadron before him. Then whispering a word to his -lieutenant, he rode two or three yards forward, and shaking his -clenched fist, exclaimed, "St. Real, you are a traitor, and have -practised on my troops; but I will meet you yet, and force you to give -me reason." Thus saying, he turned his horse and rejoined his troops, -who were already slowly, and in better order than before, withdrawing -from the perilous position in which they stood.</p><p class="normal">St. Real hesitated for a moment as to whether he should overwhelm -them, as he felt he could, by a single charge of his powerful -squadron; and duty struggled for a moment with the kindlier feelings -of his heart: but turning his head, a glance towards the king's -division saved him from farther hesitation, by showing him the -reitters of the League pouring down upon the monarch, in support of -the force under Mayenne; and he immediately wheeled his troops, and -met, in full charge, the superior body thus offered. Although the -heavier horses and armour of his own men-at-arms enabled them to break -the first rush of the German horse, the superior numbers of the latter -for a time prevailed, and the squadron of St. Real was borne back upon -that of the king. The ranks, however, on all parts, were by this time -broken; and, perhaps, never was a more complete exemplification of the -word <i>mźlée</i> than the centre of the field of Ivry at that moment. Man -to man, and hand to hand, the fight was now continued. The lance had -fallen quite into disuse amongst the royal forces before this period; -the sword, the pistol, and the mace decided all; and so mingled and -perplexed were friends and foes, that more than one man-at-arms was -struck down by others fighting on the same part. The sounds of the -cannon still pealed from other parts of the plain; and, together with -the shouts, the pistol shots, the discharges of musketry, and the -clash of steel, rendered the words of the loudest voices -unintelligible, even when vociferating words of command to any -handfuls of men that still held together; while from time to time a -cloud of smoke rolled in amongst the combatants, hiding everything -else from their eyes, except the little group of horsemen fighting -around them. In the midst of the enemy's troopers, and only -accompanied by two or three of his most devoted followers, St. Real's -personal strength, skill, and valour, wrought over again the deeds of -chivalrous times. The reitters fell back before the sweep of his -tremendous sword; and plunging his strong battle-horse in amongst -them, he dealt death and terror around; while his own soldiers began -once more to gather and to form by twos and threes behind him. At the -moment when about a third of his squadron had rallied, through the -rolling smoke, he caught a glimpse of the white plume dancing still in -the midst of a dark group of horsemen, while a hundred weapons, waving -around it, seemed aimed at that life on which hung the destinies of -France.</p><p class="normal">Without pausing even to think, St. Real spurred towards the -king: the reitters closed in behind him; and the next moment his -path was crossed by the man of all others whom he least desired to -encounter--his cousin.</p><p class="normal">"Out of the way, Philip d'Aubin!" he cried, heated with the strife of -the moment; "out of the way! By the soul of my father, you will urge -me too far!"</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin probably heard not what he said; at least his reply was too -indistinct to convey any definite meaning to the ear of St. Real, -though the furious gesture by which it was accompanied spoke for -itself. The Count spurred on upon his cousin; and St. Real, with his -beaver up, paused to see whether one in whose veins flowed the same -blood as in his own, would really raise the hand against his life. He -himself, however, was, as we have said, heated with the combat; and -when he saw D'Aubin gallop on, with the point of his heavy sword aimed -directly at his face, he lost patience, and spurred forward to meet -him. Dropping his sword, however, by the thong that attached it to his -wrist, he seized the mace, which, according to the old customs -cherished by his family, he carried at his saddle bow; and, parrying -the weapon of his kindred adversary wherever it attempted to strike -him, he made the mass of iron play round his head like a willow -wand--without, however, returning one blow of all the many that were -aimed against him.</p><p class="normal">"Leave me, D'Aubin!" he exclaimed at length, as they wheeled their -horses close together, and he perceived that his cousin was bleeding -from several wounds he had previously received: "leave me, I say; you -are wounded, and no match for me.--Leave me, or you will provoke me -too far!"</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin felt, however, that his cousin used not either his strength or -his skill against him; and his pride was more hurt to be spared than -it would have been to be vanquished. He replied nothing but "Traitor!" -and snatching a pistol from his saddle, levelled it at St. Real's -head. But the Marquis had marked the movement of his hand towards the -holster; and exclaiming, "Take that then, to cure your folly!" he -struck him full on the casque a blow that he intended to be slight, -but which drove in the steel, and laid him prostrate on the plain.</p><p class="normal">St. Real paused for an instant, to see whether the ill-fated D'Aubin -would rise; but a cry of "<i>Au Roi! au Roi!</i>" struck his ear; and -turning, he perceived the Baron de Rosny, covered with wounds, -pointing to a spot where the white plume of Henry Quatre was still -floating in the midst of the foe. It still floated; but nevertheless -there was about it that uncertain wavering, that staggering rise and -fall, which showed St. Real at once that his sovereign was hard -pressed by the multitude that surrounded him. Every other thought was -instantly cast aside before the feeling of superior duty; and calling -to some of his troopers who were near to follow, he galloped on, and -cleft his way like a thunderbolt into the press around the king. Ere -he could reach him, however, a loud shout echoed from the midst of the -crowd, and the white plume disappeared. Two sweeps of St. Real's sword -dealt death to the reitters that lay in his path; and the next moment -he reached the spot where Henry was struggling up from the carcass of -his gallant charger, who had fallen dead beneath him, after receiving -a multitude of wounds.</p><p class="normal">The young cavalier instantly sprang to the ground, exclaiming, "Mount -my horse, sire!" and held the stirrup while the monarch sprang into -the saddle. At the same moment a pistol shot struck him on the casque, -and made him reel, but it did not penetrate the well-tried steel; and, -looking round, he saw that in the brief space of time which had -elapsed since he came up, the spot on which they stood had become -comparatively clear, with none but one or two of his own and the -king's attendants very near, while on the slope of the hill appeared a -confused mass of the enemy, with their backs to the field of battle, -and their faces towards the Eure.</p><p class="normal">The next instant his own ecuyer led him forward a horse, while the -king, exclaiming, "They fly, St. Real, they fly! Mount and follow with -what men you can collect!" struck his spurs into the charger's side, -and galloped on to gain the horsemen who were in the act of pursuing -the fugitives. St. Real hastened to obey, and springing on the -charger's back, in a moment gathered together about fifty of his own -troopers, and spurred after the king. As he reached the top of the -slope, the whole field of battle lay open before his eyes; and a -strange and confused, but not unpicturesque, sight it was. Three dark -masses of the Leaguers and their pursuers were seen hurrying over the -distant country towards the river; while, as the broken clouds were -borne rapidly over the sky by a quick wind, the different groups of -Royalists and fugitives, dashing on in fury after each other, were at -one moment covered with deep shadow which hid all the several parts; -at another, exposed, with the sunshine picking out in bright relief -each individual horseman as he scoured across the upland. On the other -side lay the plain where that fierce and bloody fight had taken place, -covered with knots of fugitives, prisoners, wounded and dead, with the -artillery playing upon a village in which the Leaguers were making a -last effort; and the clouds of smoke still rolling solemnly over the -field, after the fierce flash was gone, like heavy remorse following -the eager act of angry passion. Small bodies of the Royalists too were -seen, dispersing any group of the Leaguers who attempted to -reassemble, and taking those prisoners whose horses were incapable of -bearing them away; while the reserve under Marshal Biron, dark and -heavy, hung upon the opposite slope, advancing slowly like a lurid -thundercloud, borne along by the slow breath of the summer wind.</p><p class="normal">Near the same spot whence St. Real took a hurried glance over the -field, the king himself had stopped for the same purpose; and the -moment after he turned back. "St. Real," he said, as he came near the -young noble, "the battle might be lost yet! Do you see the Walloons -have still possession of the village?--and that strong body of Swiss -there on the left still holds a good position. Come with me; we must -make sure of the victory ere we urge too far the pursuit." Thus -saying, he rode back at full speed towards the spot where his own -squadron had been originally placed.</p><p class="normal">Lost sight of in the <i>mźlée</i>, his long absence had caused it to be -very generally believed that the king was dead; and his approach was -greeted by long and reiterated cries of "<i>Vive le Roy!</i>" from a number -of his chief officers, who were engaged in rallying and reforming the -squadrons which had been broken in the beginning of the battle. -"Thanks, gentlemen, thanks!" cried Henry, taking off his casque. "Look -to those Swiss, Monsieur de Biron: they may give us some trouble yet."</p><p class="normal">"Shall I send the infantry of the right wing to break them?" demanded -the Baron de Biron.</p><p class="normal">"No," said Henry, thoughtfully; "no! the Swiss have always been good -friends to the crown of France: nor would I shed the blood of any -fellow-creature, could it be helped. Some one take a white flag, and -offer them their lives if they lay down their arms and submit quietly. -Beseech them to spare more bloodshed--for they must fall if they -resist."</p><p class="normal">The Swiss, however, were too wise to protract resistance when -resistance was vain. The offer of the victorious monarch was gladly -accepted; the last of Mayenne's army that kept the field, laid down -their arms. Henry then gave instant orders for a speedy and vigorous -pursuit of the fugitives: and thus ended the battle of Ivry.</p><p class="normal">On the field where it had been fought, and on the spot where he -himself had contended hand to hand with his cousin, St. Real caused -diligent search to be made for Philip d'Aubin, superintending the -examination himself, and gazing anxiously upon every corpse that was -raised, until it became clear that the Count had not remained upon the -field of battle. It was late in the evening ere this task was over; -but when at length, after much useless labour, taken in order to leave -not a painful doubt behind, St. Real was at length convinced, he -returned to his quarters with a lightened heart and a thankful spirit.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXX.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">We must now turn to the Count d'Aubin; but ere we inquire what became -of him after he fell under his cousin's hand on the field of Ivry, it -may be as well to relate some of the events which intervened between -his night march from Gross[oe]uvres and his encounter with St. Real. -On reaching the quarters of the Duke of Mayenne, he found that prince, -whom he had not seen for some weeks, still up, notwithstanding the -lateness of the hour; and he was immediately admitted to his presence. -Mayenne was in high spirits, and full of confidence in regard to what -would be the result of the approaching battle; and, after some -conversation respecting the military arrangements about to be made, -the Duke handed D'Aubin a small strip of parchment, asking him if he -knew the hand-writing which it displayed.</p><p class="normal">"If the Duke of Mayenne," the writing went to express, "desires to -recover a prize which not long ago escaped both his hands and those of -the Count d'Aubin, he will detach a small force of cavalry to sweep -the valley of the higher Eure between Courville and La Coupe."</p><p class="normal">"Know it!" cried D'Aubin, "know that hand! I know it well! It is that -of my cousin St. Real's dwarf Bartholo. By the Lord! then Albert of -Wolfstrom was not so wrong in his suspicions; and, with your -highness's leave, after to-morrow's business be over, we will take -counsel how this fair fugitive may best be recovered. I know that part -of the country well; the St. Reals have a chace in the valley, and it -is wild, wooded, and difficult for the movements of troops. But after -the battle we shall have the whole country clear before us; and, if I -be not sadly disappointed, ere to-morrow is at an end, I will make my -fair and simple-seeming cousin pay for his perfidy towards me."</p><p class="normal">"In that, act as you think best," replied Mayenne; "and after the -battle we will find means to recover the runaway, let the ground she -has taken for her refuge be as wild as it will: and now, D'Aubin, -farewell for the present. I will not bid so good a knight as you do -his <i>devoir</i> to-morrow."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin slept little during the night, and he was up betimes on the -following morning; for a heart full of bitterness and anger chased -slumber away. One of the first in the field, after sending a defiance -to his cousin by a trumpet, he rode over the ground and narrowly -observed the position of the king, as the small army of Royalists -advanced from Fourcainville and the other villages where they had -passed the night; but as he rode along, he perceived that four or five -strange horsemen followed him about, as if watching his movements; -and, on inquiry, found that they had joined his troop as volunteers -since his arrival in the camp of the League. He took no farther notice -of them at the time, and full of other thoughts, fierce, bitter, and -engrossing, forgot what he had observed, till in the midst of the -battle he was abandoned by the troops of Menancourt; and doubting not -that they had been seduced by the pretended volunteers, he turned a -vengeful and searching glance towards the rear, where they had been -stationed; but to his surprise, the strangers closed up in line as -soon as the others had gone over to the Royalists, without showing the -slightest disposition to join them. D'Aubin then, as we have -previously related, retreated, intending to unite his diminished force -to some of the larger squadrons; when, perceiving that the reitters -under Albert of Wolfstrom had followed Mayenne in his charge against -the division of the king, and that the gallant chivalry of Henry -Quatre were still maintaining an equal field against the more numerous -forces of the League, he also poured his troops into the <i>mźlée</i>, in -the hope of deciding the contest. Scarcely had he done so, however, -when he heard the war-cry of the St. Reals, and caught a momentary -glance of his cousin's person, as the dark and rolling cloud of battle -broke away for a moment from before his eyes.</p><p class="normal">Maddened by fancied injuries, but still more by a feeling of -inferiority and a consciousness of wrong, he strove to cleave his way -through the press, in order to try, against one whose powers his pride -undervalued, that skill and courage which had been so often successful -against others. He succeeded, as we have seen, in at length meeting -St. Real; but not till he had received several slight wounds--without -which, indeed, he would have been no match for his more powerful and -equally skilful cousin, but which tended to render him still more -unequal to the encounter that he sought. Baffled in the combat by St. -Real's skill, that vanity, which through life had led him forward from -evil to evil, urged him on with redoubled force; and when he saw, -without the power of parrying it, the descending blow which struck him -from his horse, he groaned, in bitterness of spirit, not from the fear -of death, but from disappointed hate. That blow, though light when -compared with what St. Real's arm might have dealt, drove down his -casque upon his head, split the rivets of the gorget, and laid him -without sense or feeling upon the plain.</p><p class="normal">Scarcely had he fallen, when one of those fell monsters who frequent -fields of battle to plunder the dying and the dead, attracted by his -splendid surcoat, stooped over him, and, unbuckling the plastron, felt -his heart beat. To make sure of no interruption from a reviving man, -the human vulture struck him a stroke with his dagger. The wound he -inflicted was but slight, and his arm was raised for a more effectual -blow, when the sweep of a long sword, taking him in the back of the -neck, severed his head from his body, and stretched him across the -prostrate form he had been intent to plunder. The person who thus -interposed to save D'Aubin was no other than one of the five -volunteers who had joined his corps, and who, keeping close together -through the <i>mźlée</i>, without striking a stroke except in self-defence, -had followed, as fast as circumstances permitted, wherever the count -had turned his steps. The press round the spot where St. Real and his -cousin had encountered, had delayed them for some moments; but still -they came up in time to rescue D'Aubin from the dagger of the -assassin. The tide of battle had now somewhat rolled on; the ground -around was clear; and springing from their horses, the strangers -raised the senseless body of the wounded man in their arms, lifted him -on a horse, and taking every precaution in order to bear him safely -and easily, turned their steps with all speed from the field. Although -confused bodies of the Leaguers and the Royalists were by this time -mixed all over the plain, the men who bore D'Aubin wound their way -amongst the contending squadrons with skill and presence of mind, and -soon were behind the woods which skirted the plain to the right. The -musketry was no longer heard, the sound of the cannon was faint; and -pausing for a moment, they undid and cast away the Count's armour, and -bound up his still bleeding wounds. Then, once more bearing him amidst -them, they hurried from the field, taking the road towards Chartres.</p><p class="normal">When Philip d'Aubin, after a long period of sickness, during which -insensibility and delirium had filled up the place of thought and -understanding, at length recovered a clear perception of his own -condition and of external things, he found himself lying, reduced to a -state of infant weakness, on a soft and easy bed, in a chamber which -was strange to his eye. Rich arras covered the walls; the hangings of -the couch were of velvet and gold; and through the open casement at -the end of the room breathed in the air of spring, sweet with the -perfume of jasmine and of violets. Mingled with that scent, however, -was a faint odour of incense; and on the left of the bed stood a -priest in his robes, with two or three of the inferior clergy; at the -foot were men in the dress then reserved for the followers of the -healing art; while on the right stood two or three women, and a page.</p><p class="normal">For a moment these things swam indistinctly before the eye of the sick -man; but the next instant, one particular object attracted all his -attention. It was as lovely a form as ever man beheld, advanced before -the rest, and kneeling by his bedside, with her face hidden in the -rich coverings of the bed, and her dark black hair broken from the -large gold pin that ought to have confined it, and falling in masses -of bright dishevelled curls over her neck. The convulsive grasp with -which she held the bedclothes, the deep sobs that shook her frame, the -scared and anxious glances of the attendants, the solemn aspect of the -priests, the sacred vessels for the communion and extreme unction, the -extended cross held up before his eyes--all showed Philip d'Aubin that -those who surrounded him supposed him to be dying; and that what he -beheld was the last solemn ceremonies, and the last bitter tears, -which attend the passing of the living to the dead. All eyes, but -those which were hidden to conceal the burning drops that filled them, -were fixed upon his countenance; and as his eyelids were raised, the -priest, believing it the last effort of life, lifted his hands, saying -in a solemn tone, "<i>Accipe, Domine</i>"--but as the eye wandered round -the group, and the light of life and meaning beamed faintly up in the -lamp that had seemed extinguished, the old man paused and stooped -eagerly forward.</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin would have given a world to speak, but his tongue refused its -office; and all that he could do was to turn a feeble glance of -inquiry to the countenance that gazed upon him. The priest, without -speaking, beckoned forward the physician, who laid his hand upon the -patient's pulse, and then whispered eagerly a word in the ear of an -attendant. A cup was instantly brought forward and held to the sick -man's lips; a few drops of wine moistened his tongue. With difficulty -and pain he swallowed the draught, and the unwonted effort made his -heart flutter like that of a dying bird; but soon the beating became -more regular; thick drops of perspiration stood upon his brow; he -tried again to speak; his lips moved for a moment without a sound; but -the next instant he succeeded better, and the name of "Beatrice!" -murmured on his lips.</p><p class="normal">Hitherto there had not been a sound in the chamber, but the struggling -sobs of the beautiful girl who knelt by the bedside, and the stealthy -step of the attendant who brought the cup; but that one word, -"Beatrice," spoken by a voice that had been so long unheard, struck -the ear for which it was intended. Loosing her hold of the bedclothes, -she lifted her streaming eyes, saw the change that had taken place, -gazed for an instant with all the lingering incredulity of -apprehension, and then, seeing that it was true--quite true--Beatrice -of Ferrara started on her feet, and ere any one could save her, fell -back senseless on the floor. With as little noise and confusion as -possible, she was carried from the chamber; and every means that the -science of the day suggested, were employed to complete the recovery -of the Count d'Aubin. The physician, however, who attended him, was a -disciple of the great Esculapius, Nature; and therefore, slowly but -progressively, the patient regained a degree of strength. All -conversation was forbidden, and everything that might agitate him was -carefully removed from his sight. No one visited his chamber for -several days but the attendants necessary to watch over him, and the -physician who directed their movements; and when, at the end of three -days, the first returning struggles of D'Aubin's impatient spirit -would not be controlled, and he would speak in spite of all -injunctions to the contrary, the physician continued to sit beside him -all day, in order to ensure that the subjects permitted contained -nothing which would retard his recovery by agitating his mind. -Beatrice of Ferrara had never entered his chamber since the day when, -believing him to be in the agonies of death, she had cast off all -reserve, and given way to that passionate burst of grief, which -revealed to all around the secret of her heart's inmost shrine. Feeble -as he had been at that moment, D'Aubin had not failed to mark and -understand the whole; but in sickness, and with death at our right -hand, we feel such things in a manner different from that in which -they affect us in the high glow of insolent health, and all the vanity -of life and expectation. D'Aubin felt touched and grateful for the -love he saw; and when he asked for "The lady!" it was in a tone of -reverence and softness, unmingled with a touch of the vain lightness -which characterised the society in which they lived.</p><p class="normal">"If he meant the Princess," the physician said, "she was well--quite -well."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin replied, that he meant Mademoiselle de Ferrara whom he had -seen in the room when he first recovered from the long stupor in which -he had lain.</p><p class="normal">"Not many months ago," replied the physician, "Mademoiselle de -Ferrara, as you call her, became, by her uncle's and her brother's -death, Princess of Legnagno; but, as I said, she is well--quite well."</p><p class="normal">The Count mused for a moment; but after a while he besought the -physician, in earnest terms, to obtain for him once more an interview, -however short, with the lady in whose dwelling he lay. The good man, -however, who had marked all that passed before, would not hear of it; -and it was only on the following day, when he found that Aubin's -impatience of contradiction was likely to injure him more than any -other agitation he could undergo--he consented to bear his request to -the ear of Beatrice. With her he found more difficulty than he had -expected. She hesitated to bestow that care and attention upon the -wounded man, now that he was recovering, which she had lavished on him -without reserve when he had appeared dying. Her answer to his entreaty -was cold and backward; and it was not till the physician brought her -word that her reply had so much grieved the Count that his health -suffered, that she consented once more to visit his chamber.</p><p class="normal">With a pale cheek, and with a timid step, Beatrice again approached -the couch where D'Aubin, still as feeble as a child, anxiously awaited -her coming. Her dark bright eyes stole a momentary glance at his worn -countenance, and then fell again to the ground: for the feelings that -were within her bosom--the knowledge that her love could no more be -concealed, yet the wish to hide it--the compassion for D'Aubin's -present state, which prevented her from covering her real sensations -with the garb of coldness and disdain--and the doubt and the fear that -even yet the chastening rod of suffering might not have had its due -effect on him she loved,--all rendered it impossible for her to play -the bold and careless part she had hitherto acted, yet left it -difficult to choose another.</p><p class="normal">Seating herself by his bedside, while the physician stood gazing from -the window, she strove to speak; but, for the first time in her life, -her ready wit failed her; and ere she could call it back, D'Aubin -himself broke the silence, and relieved her. "Beatrice!" he said in a -low tone, "how much have I to thank you for! how much deep gratitude -do I owe you!"</p><p class="normal">"Not so, Monsieur d'Aubin," she replied, without looking at him: "I -have done but a common act of charity, in tending one so badly hurt as -you were."</p><p class="normal">"Beatrice, dear Beatrice!" he replied, "use not cold words towards me; -for believe me, that of all the medicaments which the leeches have -applied to bring me back to life and strength, the sight of Beatrice, -when I woke from that cold and deathlike trance, was the best cordial -to my heart."</p><p class="normal">She looked up, and there was something like tears in her bright eyes; -but all she could answer was, "Indeed, D'Aubin? Indeed?"</p><p class="normal">"Indeed, Beatrice! and in truth!" replied D'Aubin; "and ever since -that hour the sight has been present to my eyes. I have remembered -it--I have fed upon it; and believe me, that it has not only tended to -heal the wounds of this weak frame, but has done much to cure the -diseases of my still weaker heart and mind. Beatrice, my beloved, I -have done you wrong. Wild, vain, and heedless, I have acted ill, and -have cast away my own happiness through idleness and folly. That time -is past: forgive me, Beatrice; and believe me, D'Aubin is changed."</p><p class="normal">"I hope it may be so, Monsieur d'Aubin," replied the fair Italian, -more composedly--"I hope it maybe so; for though the past has given -pain to many of your noblest friends, still Beatrice of Ferrara never -yet gave up the hope that all might be amended. But now I leave you -for to-day, because such conversation is not fitted to your present -feeble state."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, nay, stay yet awhile, Beatrice," he cried, holding her hand, -which he had taken, and gazing on her lovely features as if he would -have impressed every line on his memory so deeply that remembrance -might become a picture rather than that vague shadowy phantasmagoria -which at best it is. Beatrice, however, disengaged her hand, and -saying, "I will come again to-morrow; I must not be profuse of my -presence, D'Aubin, lest you cease to value it;" she glided away and -left him.</p><p class="normal">Eagerly did Philip d'Aubin watch for her coming; and day after day, so -long as he continued unable to rise, did Beatrice accompany the -physician back to his chamber, after the man of healing had made his -morning's report touching his patient's health. Still fearful of -yielding to all she felt, and with an intuitive knowledge of that -subtle thing--the heart of man--Beatrice would fain have put a strong -restraint upon her words and actions, and struggled against each of -those little signs of deep and passionate love into which every day's -conversation was prone to betray her. But who is there with a heart so -obedient, and with a demeanour so completely under the rule and -government of the mind, as to avoid every tender word, or smile of -affection, or look of love, under a daily intercourse with one so dear -as he was unto her? Besides, too, he was recovering from wounds, and -had but by a miracle escaped death; and there is something sadly -traitorous to all strong resolutions in watching the coming back of -health--the reviving colour, the brightening eye, the expanding look; -and in hearing the round tone of life's full breath take place of the -low trembling voice of sickness. At first, as Beatrice entered his -chamber, she would smile with a look of arch gaiety, to see the -anxiety with which he turned to ascertain if it were her step he -heard; but as day passed by on day, that smile lost all but the signs -of gladness, and Beatrice might be seen watching for the hour of the -visit, as well as her wounded lover. One day only was that visit not -made; and that was the first on which D'Aubin rose from a couch -whereon he had passed nearly six weeks in danger and anguish. It was -not coquetry that made her refrain; it was not the least abatement of -her love; but a feeling which she strove not to explain, even to -herself, and which it would be impossible to explain to others. Be it -what it may that moved her, she passed that day in prayer.</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin had been warned of her purpose not to come, and important -business was the cause that Beatrice assigned for her absence; but the -day having lost its usual occupations, neither the anxiety for her -coming, nor the remembrance of her visit, affording matter for -reflection, the thoughts of Philip d'Aubin turned to other things. Had -he been one of those stern moralists who examine with microscopic -exactness all their feelings, try every idea in the fine balance of -equity, and search out all the lurking motives of the heart, D'Aubin -might have started to discover how much he was recovered, by finding -out how much his thoughts were flowing back into old channels. There -were fancies crossed his mind, there were ideas presented themselves -to his imagination, at which he recoiled; and he was still so feeble, -his convalescence was still so far unconfirmed, that he blamed himself -for the recurrence of thoughts that, still smarting as he was under -the lash of suffering and the correction of adversity, he looked upon -as base and ungenerous. He hastened, then, to banish all such ideas, -and tried to look with horror and disgust those past vices and follies -which had been once his pride. But the surest sign that our faults -still cling to us, is the necessity of an effort to banish them from -our thoughts. So long as he had been really ill, D'Aubin had hated his -errors without an effort; but he was now convalescent, and they began -to play around his imagination as familiar things.</p><p class="normal">The next morning broke in floods of splendour, bearing in a golden day -of May; and as soon as his attendants would permit him, D'Aubin rose, -and, supported by the physician, walked feebly forth into the garden -of the chateau, where many a flower was opening its young bosom to the -sweet breath of the spring air, and the warm beams of the genial sun. -Under the spreading branches of an old tree, which, standing by the -castle wall, cast its scarce unfolded leaves over the garden, some -seats were placed; and there sat Beatrice with several of her women, -busily employed at their everlasting embroidery: but ever and anon the -eye of the lady turned to the low postern door; and when she at length -beheld the expected sight, a smile, bright and beautiful as the -morning, beamed upon her lip, accompanied by as warm a blush as ever -touched with crimson the timid cheek of love.</p><p class="normal">Hours went on, and days, working with their usual power to the change -of all things: but, oh! how differently does the mighty artist, Time, -labour on the world of subjects ever beneath his hands. Who would -dream that the same handiwork gave expansion to the bursting bud, and -shrivelled up the withering leaf of winter; or at the same moment cast -the pale violet dying on the green lap of spring, and called forth the -rose to bind the temples of the lusty year? Yet as different, as -strangely different, were the changes which he worked in Beatrice of -Ferrara and in Philip d'Aubin; and those changes must be told and -dwelt on separately.</p><p class="normal">Beatrice gave herself up to hope, that bright deluder, whose skilful, -unseen diplomacy outwits, with scarcely an effort, the whole cabinet -of reason. Fondly, idly, she gave herself up to hope; and the triumph -of the magician was the more powerful, inasmuch as she had nobler -allies than the mere selfishness with which she usually works her -ends. Beatrice's hope was--not solely that the period of anxiety and -pain for herself was past--that the long-sought, dear-bought, -well-earned happiness was before her--that the intense and burning -love, which none but a nature passionate and ardent as her own could -feel, was returned with full and answering passion; but she hoped, -that he whom she loved, taught by severe affliction, had learned to -know and value virtue--had become nobler, wiser, better, under the -chastisement of sickness. The biting disdain which she had assumed -towards him, when, in the insolence of unchecked prosperity and -vigorous health, he had dared to speak the same language of love to -her that he held towards others--the scorn, the defiance, with which -she then treated him--had not survived the sight of a man, whose vices -even had not estranged her heart, lying wounded, senseless, and -apparently dying, before her eyes: and now, as day after day went by, -and she was permitted to trace the bright progress of returning health -on the face of him she loved; as a thousand new interests and tender -feelings sprang up under the little cares and anxieties of his -convalescence; as with the mild and gentle words of yet unconfirmed -health, he spoke vaguely, but not the less ardently, of hopes and -wishes, and feelings in common, the reserve which she afterwards -assumed, as a light armour against slight perils, was cast away piece -by piece; and she loved even to sit alone, and dream of him and -happiness.</p><p class="normal">Such was the work of Time with Beatrice of Ferrara; with Philip -d'Aubin it was different. He saw Beatrice in all her beauty, and in -all her excellence, it is true, and he loved her better than any other -upon earth; and yet, as health returned, came back the thoughts that -he had known in health--the vanity, the pride, the levity. The heart -of man can love as deeply and as fondly as that of woman; and who -denies it such capability, libels it most foully; but the heart of man -or woman either, worn by the touch of follies and of vices, soon loses -its power to love: the temple is profaned, and the god will no longer -dwell therein. Women, less called upon to pass amidst the foul and -polluting things of earth, keep the heart's bright garment longer in -its lustre--that lustre which, like the bloom upon the unplucked -fruit, is lost at every touch; and this is why so few men are found to -love with woman's intensity; because they have staked the fortune of -the heart upon petty throws, and lost it piece by piece. So was it -with Philip d'Aubin: he could not love as Beatrice of Ferrara loved; -he could not feel as she could feel; and yet he loved her as much as -he loved anything, but other thoughts shared that love; and when he -remembered Eugenie de Menancourt, his unstable mind wavered under -contending doubts and purposes. The tie between himself and her could -easily be broken, he well knew, if both parties sought its -dissolution; but he knew too, that she would seek its dissolution with -an eagerness that roused every evil spirit in his heart in the cause -of mortified vanity. He fancied to himself her triumph; he fancied the -scoffs, and the sneers, and the jests of all that knew him; he -pictured the smiles that would hang upon the lip of many whom he had -scorned in his day of pride and success; and he crowned the whole by -representing to the eye of imagination, her who had disdained his vows -and rejected his hand, united to him who had supplanted him in love, -and overthrown him in battle. And yet he loved Beatrice of Ferrara -deeply, passionately; and while, at times, he revolved the means of -triumphing over Eugenie, and casting back the pre-imagined scoff in -the teeth of the world whose slave he had made himself, at others he -longed to fly with the fair Italian girl, whose love and devotion were -of so firm a quality; and, dying to his follies, his vices, and his -native land, to live in some far country in peace, and love, and -forgetfulness.</p><p class="normal">Such were often his meditations as health and strength slowly -returned; and the increasing success attending the arms of Henry IV. -which reached his ear in vague rumours, rendered the better course -even the more immediately politic. It was thus one evening he had sat -listening to the lute and voice of Beatrice, and thinking that ever to -have that voice and lute to soothe the moments of gloom, and that -lovely being to be the star of a domestic home, were, in truth, a lot -that princes might envy, when the careful physician warned him away -from the garden where they had been sitting, and through which the -evening air was beginning to blow somewhat cool and sharp. D'Aubin -lingered a moment; but Beatrice, with gentle urgency, enforced the old -man's authority; and retiring to his chamber, the Count continued to -gaze out, in solitude, on the spot where his fair companion and her -women still sat. He heard the door of his apartments open, but he -heeded not; so fixed was his attention upon the beautiful line of -Beatrice's reclining figure, as--leaning back till the flowers of the -jasmine behind her mingled with her jetty hair, and with her hand -resting still upon the lute--she gazed up at a bright passing cloud, -that, tinted with the hope-like hues of the setting sun, was floating -fast overhead.</p><p class="normal">"My lord Count!" said a low voice near him, "I have risked all to come -to you for a moment, and to glad my eyes with the sight of your -restored health."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin turned in some surprise, and beheld the small form of -Bartholo, his cousin's dwarf page. That form, indeed, seemed even more -shrunk and small than ever; and on the usually sallow cheek of the -dwarf there was a red and fiery glow that was not that of health; but -nevertheless his voice was calm and strong, and his bright large eyes -full of meaning and intelligence.</p><p class="normal">"Ha, Bartholo!" cried D'Aubin; "art thou here? Right glad am I to see -thee: but how doest thou risk aught in thus coming to see me? Thou art -safe here!"</p><p class="normal">"You know not, sir, that I have left your cousin long," replied the -dwarf, "and am now with my first mistress; the only one who has ever -had a real right to call me servant. But she wills not that I should -come hither. It was only because the other page was sick that I was -brought here to-day; and I tremble lest the time of departing comes, -and she should miss me; for she has the eye of a lynx, and would -instantly divine that I was here, against her express command."</p><p class="normal">"Why, how now, man of mysteries?" cried D'Aubin. "The hour of her -departure! Does she not sleep in the castle to-night?"</p><p class="normal">"Never, sir! never!" replied the page. "Since three days after you -began to mend, she has never passed one night within these walls. But -I have not time to explain more mysteries, and only came to see you -well, and perhaps, if I had a moment, to give you some counsel that -were not ungrateful to your ear."</p><p class="normal">"Oh, you have time, plenty of time!" cried D'Aubin. "Lo, there she -sits, and she is running over the strings of her lute in another air, -though we cannot hear it here; but we can see when she rises; -beautiful creature! One could gaze on her for ever! What is it you -would say?"</p><p class="normal">"I would ask," replied the page, "if his Highness of Mayenne ever -showed you some information he received concerning one whom you -thought no less fair than the fair thing before you?"</p><p class="normal">"Yes, yes, he showed it to me!" answered D'Aubin. "But know you, -Bartholo, that since we met, my mind has undergone a revolution. Like -you, my little friend, I have changed my service also; and, as you -said, am now with my first mistress, the only one who ever had a real -right to call me servant."</p><p class="normal">The cheek of the dwarf turned pale; and he replied, "I thought, -indeed, that you might be her servant, as we use that word in Italy: -her servant <i>par amours</i>; and yet might like to wed the other too, if -it were but to set your foot for ever upon all the gay jests and -ribald laughter that are going on in the capital and the camp at your -expense. But if you are set on marrying the fair Princess, Heaven -forbid that I should stay you from such a righteous purpose!"</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin paused in thought for several moments, while the dwarf -alternately glanced his eye to the changing countenance of the Count, -and to the garden in which Beatrice still sat. "You speak strange -words, Bartholo!" said D'Aubin at length: "I, with all the world, have -deemed her as pure as the falling snow, ere it touches earth."</p><p class="normal">"And so she is," cried the dwarf, eagerly; "and so she is, I do -believe. But yet, Monsieur d'Aubin, she loves--loves with that passion -which makes such steps as we speak of easy. Besides, we in Italy are -accustomed to look upon the marriage tie as a form much less binding -than that which love twines for itself--a mere form indeed; and she, -who worships the spirit of constancy, abhors all idle forms. But I -speak too boldly, noble sir; and yet I seek to serve you. I have heard -that Sir Albert of Wolfstrom, too, has betaken himself to your estates -of Aubin, and--but I must fly!--see, she is rising!"</p><p class="normal">"Stay, stay a moment!" cried the Count; "she is not yet prepared to go -forth, and I have much to ask you. Tell me, where is the Lady of -Menancourt, and how may I best find her?"</p><p class="normal">"I dare not stay, sir!" replied the dwarf. "As soon as she enters, she -will ask for me; but I will find another opportunity soon, of telling -you more. In the mean time, fear not, sir, to press your advantage; -for you know not passion's force with those upon whose birth a -brighter sun has shone. Remember, I never gave you false information -or wrong advice."</p><p class="normal">"Good faith, no!" said D'Aubin; "but she is coming in! Farewell, and -return if you can to-morrow, my good Bartholo."</p><p class="normal">Without further reply, the page glided out of the room; and while -D'Aubin, gazing upon Beatrice as she advanced towards the house, -pondered over all the poisonous words that had just been dropped into -his ear, Bartholo glided down the small and narrow staircases that led -to a far part of the building, laughing with a bitter laugh as he -went, and murmuring something of a goodly scheme well spoiled.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXI.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">D'Aubin passed a restless and unquiet night; and the next morning his -pale countenance and languid look re-awakened in the bosom of Beatrice -of Ferrara all those apprehensions and anxieties which are treacherous -internal allies of the ambitious tyrant love. From that day, however, -the conduct of Philip d'Aubin underwent a change, slight, indeed, to -appearance, but yet of no small import. His demeanour grew softer, -tenderer, more solicitous towards his fair companion; his conversation -was all of love. From every bright thing in external nature, from the -stores of history, or the pages of imagination, he drew matter for -comparing, and illustrating, and typifying the ardent passion of the -heart. Beatrice listened, pleased, and joined in, and felt that she -was beloved; and spoke her own warm feelings boldly, so long as the -words were general. Her eyes, and the varying colour of her cheek, -told all the rest: and much would they discuss the evil and the good -of strong and fiery passion; and to their hearts' content they proved -that it was aught but a fault, a capability in a bright spirit, a -proof of superior energy of heart and mind. But then Beatrice said it -must be ruled and governed by ties and principles as strong and -energetic as itself; and D'Aubin, though he did not venture to -dissent, went on in the praise of intense and vehement love without -restriction, and brought forth a thousand examples in which that -passion, in what he called nobler and more generous times, had been -carried to a height unknown in their own age. Still, on every point -where he and Beatrice might differ, he touched the subject lightly, -and then left it; pointing still, by many an endearing name and soft -caress, the object and application of all his bland eloquence. -Beatrice hoped and believed, and was happy; and now that her bosom was -at rest--that the conflict of hope, and fear, and passion, which had -ceaselessly agitated her during the last four years, was at an end, -and her heart reposed in peace on the conviction of being loved, and -the prospect of future happiness, her demeanour grew milder, softer, -tenderer; it lost the wild and eager fire which it had acquired, and -fell back into all that was sweet, and womanly, and gentle. The days -passed on, too, in peace; for D'Aubin asked no questions upon the many -matters which might have called up subjects painful to either; and -Beatrice, ere she spoke of the past, wished all those things completed -which would put an irrevocable seal upon the happiness of the present. -Then she thought that addressing her husband and her lover both in -one, she could tell him that all he had done amiss was forgiven; that -he had been ever loved, even in his errors; and that her eye had been -ever watchful, her hand ever stretched out, to snatch him from the -consequences of his faults, and to lead him away from those faults -themselves.</p><p class="normal">At length, on one bright and sunshiny morning in June, when the clear -lustre of health had fully returned into D'Aubin's eye, and his step -was as firm as it had been four months before, the lovers sat together -in a wood near the chateau, passing away, under the shadow of the old -trees, the hot hours of summer noon. She scarcely knew why, but with a -lingering touch of timidity, to which she yielded willingly, without -trying to scrutinise it, Beatrice had ever, in her interviews with -D'Aubin, kept some of her women round her; and although, feeling that -there was much to be said between them which were better said without -witnesses, she had day after day determined to dispense with their -presence, still there they sat at a little distance, plying the busy -needle on the object which served to occupy their discreet eyes. Their -presence was no great restraint, it is true, but still D'Aubin found -it burthensome; and, resolved to hesitate no longer in his purposes, -he besought Beatrice to send the women away. With a blushing cheek, -and somewhat of an agitated tone, Beatrice complied; and then, turning -away her head, played idly with the flowers that gemmed the grass on -which they sat.</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin paused and hesitated, even at that moment, if he should go on; -but his determination soon returned, and gliding his arm round her -waist, while with his right hand he took hers unresistingly, he said, -"Beatrice, dear Beatrice, do we not love one another?"</p><p class="normal">Beatrice replied nothing; but the trembling of her whole frame was a -sufficient answer; and D'Aubin went on. "Hear me, Beatrice, and -believe me, when I say that I love you with my whole heart and soul, -with the deepest, the truest, the most lasting affection; that I love -you better than anything on earth; and that for you I am ready to -abandon friends, and country, and station altogether."</p><p class="normal">He paused, and Beatrice replied in a low voice, "But, thank God! no -such sacrifice is necessary, D'Aubin."</p><p class="normal">"If it be, I am ready to make it," pursued the Count, in a voice to -which deep and sincere passion lent all its earnestness; "if it be, I -am ready to make it. Oh, Beatrice, you know not how I love you! but I -must be loved with the like affection, not with the cold and formal -love of fashion and society--idols to which I have only bowed because -I found no better godhead. Now I have found a power above,--now I know -that, however I have erred, I have loved you ever, and you alone; that -without you the earth would be one vast piece of desolation to my -eyes. Wherever you are, is henceforth my country; wherever you dwell, -is henceforth my home; for you I will sacrifice everything, for you I -will regret nothing. Tell me, Beatrice, is your love for me the same?"</p><p class="normal">"Can you doubt it, Philip?" she replied, "can you doubt it?"</p><p class="normal">"Then I am happy," he cried, pressing her to his bosom; "the vain -ties, the idle ceremonies of the world may bind together cold and -careless hands, and indifferent and unimpassioned bosoms, but between -your heart and mine, Beatrice, there will be a dearer, a nobler, a -more lasting tie, and we will have no other!"</p><p class="normal">Beatrice disengaged herself from his arms. "What do you mean, -D'Aubin?" she cried: but then pausing, she added, "but I forgot; you -fancy yourself bound to another by one of those bonds of society which -cannot be broken: but you are mistaken; your supposed marriage with -Eugenie de Menancourt is null. The ceremony was vain, the seeming -priest was none, and I have papers here to prove that he was but a -soldier in the army of the Huguenots."</p><p class="normal">"Glad am I to hear it," cried D'Aubin, again throwing his arms around -her; "yet listen to me, Beatrice; is the same idle ceremony necessary -between you and me? Do you doubt my love, Beatrice? will your -constancy faint unless upheld by an idle form? Is your love so weak, -that, when I am ready to resign all, even to my country, for you, you -will not make the sacrifice even of a mere name for me?"</p><p class="normal">Beatrice turned, as he held her in his arms; and for an instant gazed -in his face, with a look of wondering inquiry, as if--even acquainted -with the world and all its ways as she was--the base, ungrateful -wickedness of his purpose were too much for her belief. At length, -convinced that her ears had not deceived her, and satisfied, from the -soft, entreating expression he assumed, that his proposal was the -result of calm, deliberate forethought--no idle jest, no capricious -trial of her heart--she burst from him like a young eagle from a net -which had been spread for larks; and, standing in all the majesty of -indignant beauty on the spot where she had lately sat, she gazed upon -him with flashing eyes, and a quivering lip, while the fingers of her -right hand felt along her girdle for the dagger, which, according to a -common custom of the day, usually hung there. But it had been -forgotten; and it might be lucky for the Count d'Aubin that it was so.</p><p class="normal">For a moment anger and surprise, and bitter indignation seemed to take -away all words; but ere D'Aubin could speak again, she had recovered -herself. "Out of my sight, viper!" she cried; "base, ungrateful, -perfidious snake! Oh God! Oh God! never let woman, henceforth and for -ever, love man again. Let her trample upon that black thing, his -heart, and sport with his torture, and deceive his love, and betray -his confidence, till he know not where to find faith or truth in all -the world; for, the moment that he believes her true, or kind, or -gentle, or affectionate, he turns a serpent which would sting her, and -poison for her the life, the feelings, the happiness, she is ever -ready to devote to him. Out of my sight, traitor, I say! Why linger -you here?"</p><p class="normal">"Hear me! hear me, Beatrice!" cried D'Aubin, rising and attempting to -take her hand. "Hear me! I meant not to offend you! I am no traitor. I -meant but----"</p><p class="normal">"No traitor!" cried Beatrice. "Is he no traitor, that, received with -friendship and hospitality into the heart of a fortress in time of -war, treated with confidence and love, saved from death, cherished, -protected, befriended, strives to corrupt the garrison and betray the -leader, to ruin the defences, and destroy the walls? Out on thee, man! -Out on thee! I would not be the base, ungenerous, contemptible thing -thou art, for all the power of a Cęsar!"</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin saw he had deceived himself; and at the same moment that he -perceived that he had risked the love of Beatrice for ever, he felt -most strongly what an inestimable jewel that love was. "Hear me--but -hear me, Beatrice!" he said. "Have I not said that I am ready to -sacrifice everything for you? I make no exception to that sacrifice; -not a pride, not a vanity, not a prejudice do I wish excepted. I will -sacrifice all! Be mine on any terms. I did but think that Beatrice was -more liberal, more unprejudiced, than our idle crowd of courtly dames, -who insist upon a ceremonious vow that they break, one and all, most -unceremoniously, rather than that private compact which binds the -heart."</p><p class="normal">"Say no more, Sir--say no more," cried Beatrice. "Those last words are -quite enough, if all the rest of your conduct were insufficient. There -is hope in every man who can yet believe in purity; but he whose vice -is so confirmed, that he does not credit the existence of virtue, is -irreclaimable. So you did but think," she continued, while her cheek -again glowed, and her eye flashed--"you did but think, that Beatrice -of Ferrara was too liberal, too unprejudiced, to hold her honour as a -jewel, without which life is darkness and bitterness. You did but -think, that, because to save, to reclaim, to elevate a man she fancied -not wholly lost, she braved opinion, and, strong in her own -righteousness, set the world's maxims at defiance. You did but think -that she had forgotten the line between virtue and prejudice, in her -mad love for Philip d'Aubin, and would soon, for his sake, trample -upon the one, as she had spurned the other? But, sir, you were -mistaken; and you will now quit for ever her you have insulted."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin had nothing in the shape of reason to reply, but he had much -in the shape of love; and with a heart full of passion, and shame, and -regret, he failed not to plead for forgiveness with vehemence and -eloquence. Forgetting pride and all its train, he cast himself at her -feet; he held her hand when she sought to go; and he poured forth, -from the deep feelings in his heart, all those ardent and fiery words -which well might move and win. At first Beatrice strove to stay him, -and to disengage her hand; but when she found that his vehemence would -be heard, she stood and listened, but with that calm and cold -demeanour, which ere long brought his eloquence to an end. Then -withdrawing her hand and her robe from his grasp, she said, in a low -and agitated, but determined tone, which, full of deep feeling but -strong resolution, was much more striking than the words of passion -which had at first broken from her lips, "Rise, Monsieur d'Aubin! and -as I have heard you, now hear me! When first you talked of love to me, -I knew you to be young, and light, and foolish; but I thought that I -discovered, underneath the follies of youth and gaiety, deeper -feelings, better aspirations, and a nobler soul. I then saw you -flutter round many another woman, and I heard of vices into which I -did not inquire; for, in your language and your manner towards me, -there was much that gave me better hopes, and I strove to reclaim you -by gentleness and kindness. Deeper offences succeeded; and it became -me, though love loses hope but slowly, to assume a demeanour towards -you, which might at once tend to awaken you, and do justice to myself. -The weakness of a woman's heart taught me to believe, that, on one -occasion I had carried severity too far, and I reproached myself for -having hurried you on in evil. I soon had an opportunity of mending -that. In a battle, where I had good assurance that your party would -fail, I caused you to be followed by some faithful and skilful men, -who had orders to rescue you at any moment of extreme need. They -brought you wounded, and apparently dying, to my dwelling, and like a -sister I tended you night and day, till all hope was lost; and then I -wept for you as no sister could have wept. Against all calculation you -recovered; saw how deep, how strong, was my love towards you; taught -me to give full scope to that love, by pretending reformation and -virtue: and now you have ended all, by proving to me that kindness, -like the spring sun upon a torpid snake, but re-awakens your venom -with your strength; that you look upon the love of woman but as the -means of injuring her; that kind deeds and services but hire you to -ingratitude; and that, though you may be capable of passion, you are -incapable of love! Thus convinced, sir, I bid you quit me, and for -ever. No time, no circumstances, will change my resolution of -banishing you from my thoughts for ever; for Beatrice of Ferrara would -sooner die than wed one whom she has at length learned so thoroughly -to despise, could he offer a kingly crown."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin rose in silent bitterness, and half turned away; but ere he -went he again paused, as if to speak, and a few indistinct words -trembled on his tongue. Beatrice, however, stopped him, and with an -air of calm, stern dignity, exclaimed, "No more, Monsieur d'Aubin, I -will hear no more; it is time, sir, that you should quit one whom you -have so basely insulted. Your horse is in the stable, your health is -restored; my servants will guide and guard you on your way, should you -need protection; but never let your step cross the threshold of -Beatrice of Ferrara again, as never again shall your image enter her -mind."</p><p class="normal">"Your commands shall be obeyed, Lady," replied D'Aubin, proudly; "and -as to protection, I need none. Fare you well, madam, with thanks for -the kindness you showed me at first; and with silence--if so it must -be--for the harshness you now show; and yet I could wish to be heard."</p><p class="normal">"Not a word more!" replied Beatrice. "Sir, I bid you farewell! Laura! -Annette! Where are those girls? Annette, I say!" and turning from him, -she hastened on in the direction which her maids had taken when she -sent them from her. They were at no great distance; and bidding them -follow her, Beatrice with a rapid step retrod her way towards the -chateau. Firmly, and apparently unshaken by what had passed, but with -her dark bright eyes bent upon the ground, the beautiful girl entered -the gates of the house; hurried along its many passages to the chamber -in which, during the first period of D'Aubin's illness, she had been -accustomed to repose; and opening the door, advanced towards a chair. -But the energy of her great effort did not last till she reached it; -her brain reeled, her steps wavered, and she sunk upon the floor, -insensible and silent, ere her attendants could catch her in their -arms. That innate faculty which teaches women to divine, as by -intuition, the secrets of their fellow woman's hearts, held the girls -who had followed Beatrice quite silent and noiseless, as they did all -in their power to recall her to herself. There was no bustle, no -outcry, no running hither and thither for assistance; but with quiet -and persevering assiduity they tended her, till at length she opened -her eyes and gazed languidly round the chamber. Then came some broken -sobs, and then a flood of tears; and then, wiping away the drops that -gemmed her long dark eyelashes, Beatrice of Ferrara once more shook -off the bonds of woman's weakness, and was herself again.</p><p class="normal">"Be silent on what has past, Annette," she said; "Laura, I know I can -trust you. I would fain learn whether the chateau is free of all -guests; I long to be alone in my own house again. Fly, Annette, and -see."</p><p class="normal">The girl sped away, and soon returned, saying, "The count mounted his -horse, lady, and rode away some twenty minutes since."</p><p class="normal">"Did he?" said Beatrice--"did he?" and she fell into a deep fit of -thought.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">So long as there was a human eye upon her, Beatrice of Ferrara -governed the mingled and passionate feelings that struggled with each -other in her bosom, and would fain have had the mastery of her also. -After a time, however, when she had preserved her apparent calmness -long enough to deceive completely those around her; when she had -drawn, with a hand full of grace and fancy, the groups of flowers -which were to serve as patterns for her maiden's embroidery--had -struck the chords of her lute with a careless but skilful hand, and -talked for some ten minutes on a butterfly--she desired to be left -alone.</p><p class="normal">Then however, when, with the door closed and the arras drawn, there -was no eye upon her but that of Heaven, she once more gave way to all -she felt. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she cried, clasping her small hands, "to -be thus treated by one whom I have so deeply loved--for whom I have -done so much--for whose sake I sacrificed my nights and days, -scattered my fortunes, left my state and station, took on me menial -offices, put my life in peril, and even my good name to risk--and -more, far more, for whom I forgot and pardoned those errors that women -forget least easily, and loved him still, even when he sported with my -love as a thing of nought! Oh, God! oh, God! that he who, if ever man -yet believed the love of woman to be a pure and holy thing, should -have held the feelings of my heart most sacred--that he should dare to -talk to me the words of shame, the vile sophisms of guilt and infamy; -that he should dream that I--I who have stood alone, in the midst of a -depraved court, the wonder and hatred of them all--that I should -become his paramour, his leman, to be held or discarded at his -pleasure--to play him sweet airs upon the lute, and sing to him when -he was in the mood, and be called the Italian mistress of the gay -Count d'Aubin!" and, as she called up all the images of the -degradation he had proposed, she strained her hands upon one another -till the clear blood vanished from beneath the small finger nails; and -she raised her dark eyes to heaven, as if asking, "Is it possible that -God can permit such baseness."</p><p class="normal">"It is my own fault!" she cried at length; "it is my own fault! I -should have known too well what a vile slave man is--how he licks the -dust beneath our feet, so long as we tread upon his neck, and turns to -smite us as soon as we smile upon him. I should have known it, and -with haughty dignity and distant sternness commanded the love that I -have stooped to win. It is my own fault, weak girl that I am--it is my -own fault! He thought that she who could go masquerading in boy's -attire, and make herself the companion of grooms and horse-boys for -his sake--that she who could dare the perils of the camp in a strange -guise--could come and go, at the risk of question and discovery, -through the gates of a beleaguered city--could bind up his wounds with -her own hands, and watch for fourteen nights by the side of his sick -bed,--would surely refuse him nothing--no, not her honour. Or perhaps -even now, in his profligacy of heart, he scoffs and jeers at the -thought of my fastidiousness; or deems that, by a cunning device and -affectation of virtue, I sought to patch up a ruined reputation by a -marriage with him. He may hold me as some light wanton! Out upon him! -out upon him! Did he but know the heart he tramples on!" and bursting -into tears, she covered her face with her hands, and remained thus for -several minutes in silent bitterness of heart.</p><p class="normal">The tears again seemed to relieve her; and at length she wiped them -from her eyes, and looked out vacantly upon the gay and sunny -landscape that lay stretched in bright confusion from the height on -which the chateau stood, to some distant hills, that, rising again on -the opposite side of a deep valley, towered up, now covered with green -woods, now massed in the grey distance.</p><p class="normal">However resolutely the soul may hold itself within the citadel of the -heart besieged by grief, the garrison of that sad fortress will be -affected by the sight of things that pass beyond its limits. Sweet -sounds, though we listen to them not, will tend to soothe; and -pleasant objects, though the eye appears void of all remark, will -tranquillize and calm. There were lovelier scenes to be found on -earth, than that which lay beneath her sight, and Beatrice had seen -many fairer far: but over it the sun, now slanting down towards his -rest, was casting soft broad shadows; and now and then a slow passing -cloud came, like the faint and pleasing shade of melancholy that -sometimes steals upon our happiest moments, and touched the bright -things below with a blue ethereal hue as it flitted on above them. -Nothing was seen to move in the sky or on the earth, but that slow -cloud and its soft shadow; but, on a bough before the window, a -gay-hearted bird carolled volubly to the evening sun, mingling, -however, now and then, with its blither notes, a tone or two in a sad -minor key, which made its song harmonise both with the scene and with -the heart of her who listened. I am wrong; the heart of Beatrice did -not harmonise with it,--her bosom was full of griefs too deep, too -lasting, to assimilate with the glad voice of nature; but still the -melancholy tones so far chastened the cheerful song of the bird, that -she could hear it and not think it harsh, and the shadows of that -cloud were just sufficient to make her feel the brightness not -blighting. She sat and gazed; and though neither her eye nor her ear -marked anything with precision, she fell into a dreamy fit of musing, -and that musing was softer and less bitter than it had been.</p><p class="normal">True, she thought of the course of her love, and of that love's -blight. She knew that for her joys of life, the dreams, the hopes, the -imaginings--all the green things of a happy heart, in short--were -withered, and blasted, and shrivelled up, like the leaves of a bough -broken off by the lightning. To be calm and passionless, sad and -solitary, were the brightest aspirations which her once ardent bosom -could harbour now; but still to think over such a state, was peace, to -the bitter paroxysm that went before. Did she ever think that hope -might revive in regard to him she had loved? Never! For though her -love was not over--ah, no! and she would have given her fortune and -her life to have blessed him; yet so lost was all her esteem and all -her confidence, that could she have thought her heart would ever -betray her into one weak fancy in regard to him, she would have torn -it out to trample it beneath her feet. She loved him still, she knew, -she felt she loved him; for her heart was as a pile of incense which -that passion had lighted, and the fire could only be extinguished by -the end of her own being; but still the dream, the bright and golden -dream, of happiness was over; and not even love--that ardent and -undying love, which was now an indivisible part of her being and her -soul--could have bribed her, by the brightest promises of hope, to see -that man again, or hear his lips pronounce one other word. No! -bitterly, but fully, was she convinced at last of his unworthiness; -and though she still loved the erring and earthly being whom her own -imagination had purified and adorned, the dream of hope was at an -end--the voice of the syren was mute: and yet a consolation gradually -stole upon her heart, soothed the anguish and disappointment, and did -away the indignation and disdain. On it, too, she framed the scheme of -her future life, as she paused and thought of the coming years. That -consolation was the conviction, the certainty, the indubitable -assurance, that she was beloved; that he who had insulted and injured -her--who had repaid her tenderness with ingratitude, and her -confidence by baseness--still loved her deeply, passionately, and -alone. What then was her resolution? Not to watch him farther, even -through the eyes of others--not to seek for tidings of his actions, or -to dream that he would amend; but on the contrary, to fly him far and -for ever; to shut her ears against every rumour from the land in which -he lived, and dead as he was to her, to consider him no more amongst -the living; but still, as the balm and the comfort of the long -after-years, to remember that she had been beloved--that, impure and -dark as was the flame that had been lighted upon the altar of his -heart, still it had been kindled, and had burned for her. This was to -be the theme of memory--the occupation of her long, lonely hours--the -matter for the immortal working of thought--the balsam for her wounded -heart--the light of her long night of maiden widowhood,--that she had -been loved by him she loved!</p><p class="normal">As she thus thought, and as she thus determined, the bitterness of her -grief diminished. Dark and melancholy, indeed, was the fate that she -pictured for herself, but yet it was relief, for it offered her -tranquillity at least; and she had learned, amidst the strife of hope, -and fear, and passion, to value God's best blessing--peace. Her -meditations had been long, and had not exactly followed the even -course in which they have been here detailed; for tears were not -wanting to chequer them, nor many an angry and a bitter thought to -struggle hard against the not unsound philosophy with which she sought -to preserve, for future years, all, out of the bright harvest of her -hopes now blighted, that had escaped the storm. But the tears grew -less frequent, and the bitter pangs of disappointment waxed fainter, -as the minutes flew; and at length, when she had determined how to -shape her course through the rest of life's long and dangerous voyage, -she raised her eyes once more to the heaven above and the landscape -below; and the objects which met her gaze were more marked and noted -now, than they had been not long before.</p><p class="normal">The change upon the scene, however, was but slight--the same bird was -still tuning its unwearied throat in the tree hard by--the same -unmoving stillness dwelt over the whole view--and not a living object -was to be seen upon the solitary road that wound away through a thinly -peopled part of the much-depopulated realm of France. But the shadows -had grown longer, and the little stream which had lately glistened in -the sunshine, now rested scarcely visible in the brown shade of the -hills; and those changes, slight as they were, to a quick and -imaginative mind like that of Beatrice, might well speak of time's -rapid pace, and man's slow resolves. Stretching forth her hand to a -small silver bell, she rung is sharply; and when the girl Annette -appeared, bade her call Bartholo instantly.</p><p class="normal">It was not long before the dwarf obeyed the summons; and though he -entered with that air of deference and respect, which was habitual to -him in the presence of Beatrice, yet there was a gleam of satisfaction -in his eye which he could not quell; and which, had she been in her -usual keen and observing state of mind, would not have escaped the -glance of his mistress. But Beatrice scarcely saw him as he stood -before her; but sat with her eyes bent upon the ground, and her busy -thoughts straying sorrowfully over the past.</p><p class="normal">"You sent for me, Madam," said the dwarf at length; "and I come -joyfully, because I have not been thus honoured of late so often as I -used formerly to be, when Bartholo's scheme, or Bartholo's advice was -well nigh his lady's oracle."</p><p class="normal">"I have somewhat distrusted thee, Bartholo!" said Beatrice, gravely. -"Many of my plans have failed in thy hands----"</p><p class="normal">"But by no fault of mine, lady!" cried the dwarf, eagerly. "What have -I done to be distrusted? How have I deserved to lose your confidence? -What secret have I betrayed? How have I acted to frustrate anything -that you proposed?"</p><p class="normal">"Those, Bartholo," replied the lady, "those who suffer themselves to -be discovered in their art, by open acts or heedless words, are -politicians of a different stuff from that of which thou art made. But -there are such things as looks, and smiles, and frowns, and curlings -of the upper lip, which, to the eye of Beatrice of Ferrara, are often -as legible as a book fairly printed in the language of her native -land. I have somewhat doubted thee; but I may have been deceived--and -God send it may be so! for I would not willingly believe that any one -whom I have nourished with my bread, and have rewarded not only with -dull gold, but also with inestimable favour and affection, would -deceive or betray me; far less could I wish to think, that one who has -known me from infancy, and on whom my parents, as well as myself, have -rained benefits, would wrong my confidence."</p><p class="normal">"Lady!" replied the dwarf vehemently, "so help me Heaven, as I would -sooner die than do ought that you do not wish, except for your own -good!"</p><p class="normal">"Ay, there may we bitterly fall out, good Bartholo, if we speak -farther!" replied Beatrice. "What I require is service, and not -judgment of my actions; and henceforth let me but see that you even -waver in obeying, or fulfil not my behest, whatever it may be, to the -very letter, and I will send you from me never to return again. -However, I somewhat doubted thee, and therefore have not trusted thee -in matters where I required uninquiring promptitude and exact -obedience. Those matters now are over, and a smoother trodden path -lies out before me."</p><p class="normal">Bartholo started, for he had heard and marked much that had passed; -and yet she spoke so calmly, that he deemed it impossible one of her -passionate nature could bear the blight of all her hopes so meekly. -"It has wrung my heart, lady," he said, in a tone of deep despondency, -that touched Beatrice more at this moment than it might have done at -any other, because grief is credulous of grief. "It has wrung my -heart, lady, to have been distrusted by you for an hour, though the -wound would have gone deeper had I deserved it. But you know not, -lady, what it is, when one has been brought up from boyhood near so -bright and good a person as yourself; has been habituated to watch -your every word, to obey you, and to hasten before your wishes to -please you; has become keen of wit and daring of execution for the -sole service of your behests; and has watched you expand from -loveliness to loveliness, like a flower in the spring tide--you know -not what it is to be looked coldly on, even for a moment; to be -distrusted by her whom one would give the inmost heart's best blood to -serve."</p><p class="normal">The tone touched Beatrice, for it was unlike the dwarf's ordinary -cynicism: but there was something in the words, though they were -respectfully spoken, which did not please her; and she might have -replied more coldly than the kindness of her heart approved, had not -the dwarf gone on rapidly:--"At your birth, lady, I was little more -than twelve years old; and from that hour to this, I have followed -your fortunes and obeyed you in every word, even to quitting you when -you bade me quit you, and taking apparent service, once with a man I -hated, and once with a man I despised; and now I find that you have -distrusted me, you have looked cold upon me, you have kept me from -your presence! Lady, I beseech you, do not so again; rather as you -say, send me from you for ever. Call me to you, and say, 'Bartholo, -thou pleasest me no longer, get thee gone, and take thy stinted and -misshapen form from before my eyes; let me see no more thy apish -countenance! Despised of all the world, thou art despised of me also; -and though the dwarf has been my sport and mockery, has stood in the -place of parrot, or lapdog, or marmoset, I am now tired of the goblin; -so get thee hence!' Say this! say a thousand things more biting and -bitter still, but never, oh never, lady, distrust me again."</p><p class="normal">"Nay, Bartholo, nay!" replied Beatrice, better pleased with his last -words than those that preceded them. "Thou goest too far, in the -bitterness of thine anger. I have never contemned, I have never -despised thee! and have felt pity for thy fate, less because it truly -deserved pity, than because it grieved thee. As to the past, thou -ownest thyself, that if thou hadst deemed my interest required it, -thou wouldest have betrayed my confidence; I was just, therefore, in -mistrusting thee; but it was thy vanity I doubted--vanity that must -judge of my happiness better than I can myself--and not thy love, -Bartholo, which I do verily believe would seek that happiness for me -at the risk of life."</p><p class="normal">"Oh! never, never doubt that, lady!" cried the dwarf, casting himself -at her feet, and kissing her hand; "never, never doubt that; for your -utmost trust therein can only do me scanty justice."</p><p class="normal">Beatrice withdrew her hand. "Enough, enough!" she said. "We understand -each other for the future. You always remember, that I am the best -judge of my own happiness; and I----" He shook his head with a -mournful look, and clasping his hands together, cast his eyes upon the -ground. "What mean you, knave?" cried Beatrice, for his action -interrupted her more than words could have done. "What would you by -that gesture?"</p><p class="normal">"I would ask, lady," said the dwarf, in a firm but melancholy -tone,--"If you have lately proved yourself so good a judge of your own -happiness? Pardon me, my noble lady! Pardon me! but did I not long -since predict all that has happened? Did I not tell you, when first -you fixed your love on one whose name I will not pronounce, so deeply -do I hate him for his conduct towards you----"</p><p class="normal">"Hate him not, Bartholo!" interrupted Beatrice, fixing her bright dark -eyes upon the dwarf as she spoke--"hate him not, Bartholo; for I love -him still! and he loves me!"</p><p class="normal">A bright flush played over the pale cheek of the dwarf, like a gleam -of summer lightning upon the twilight sky, and his nether lip -quivered; but for some moments he made no reply, except by again -clasping his hands together, and gazing down upon the ground, as if in -deep meditation. "Lady!" he said at length, "you love him still! I -doubt it not; for yours is one of those firm hearts, on which a line -once engraved can never be effaced. But alas, alas! he loves not you; -and all your sad experience will not convince you, solely because you -still love him."</p><p class="normal">"Not so, Bartholo," replied Beatrice. "All my experience convinces me -that he does love me; and I thank God for it, though most likely I -shall never see his face again. Do not interrupt me! For once I -condescend to speak to you of my past and my future actions; but after -this, we mention such things no more. I am not the weak being you -believe me. I placed you in the service of Philip d'Aubin, now years -ago, not that you might act as a spy for me upon each pitiful and -insignificant occurrence of his life, or note every failing or every -falsehood he committed against the vows he had plighted to me; but, on -the contrary, to satisfy myself on two great points, whereon my future -happiness depended, first, whether he loved me, and next, whether he -might not become worthy of my love. When he left Paris and retired -into Maine, shaken by still greater doubts, I determined to watch him -myself more nearly, and made you prepare me an entrance into the -family of his uncle; but it was still for those two great objects that -I risked so much. Circumstances rendered this scheme nearly fruitless: -the death of his uncle, his return towards Paris, his separation from -his cousin, all thwarted me; but still, step by step, and little by -little, his character developed itself before me. At length, hoping -and confiding still, I had the man I loved, followed by my emissaries, -traced from place to place, withdrawn from the fatal battle which -ruined the cause he had espoused, and brought hither as thou knowest. -Here I watched him from sickness unto health. Here the last trait of -his character displayed itself. All is open--all is clear! My two -questions are resolved! I am satisfied. He loves me, Bartholo! He does -love me! But he is unworthy of my love!"</p><p class="normal">She spoke rapidly and eagerly, but she had by this time regained her -command over herself; and not a tear rose in her eye, as she briefly -touched upon the various efforts which love, deeper, stronger than -even she herself believed, had urged her on to make, and upon the sad -result of all her endeavours. As she ended, indeed, she raised her -eyes to the sky; and, led away by memory, forgot the presence of the -page and the conclusion of her speech, and, gazing out for many -minutes, remained in silent but painful meditation. Still she gave no -way to grief; and, after awhile, again turned towards the dwarf, -saying--"Well, Bartholo, so much for the past! Now for the future. For -eleven long years have I sojourned in this fair realm of France, but -my stay therein draws towards an end. The last tie that bound me to -this place is broken! My soul yearns towards my native land. Bartholo, -I am about to tread back my way to Italy."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed! indeed!" cried the dwarf, his whole face brightening. "Then -all is right, indeed. But when, lady--oh, tell me when?"</p><p class="normal">"I knew not that thou wert such a lover of thy native land!" replied -Beatrice, as she gazed upon his small features beaming with a sort of -triumphant joy. "I have heard thee call thyself a citizen of the -world; and vow that nature, when she made thee smaller than the common -race of other countries, by unfitting thee for any, had fitted thee -for all alike. But I see that, smother our feelings however we may, -the love of our own land will not give way so long as memory binds us -to it with the thousand ties of sweet associations and early -happiness. Well, be thy mind at ease! Eight days, eight short days, -and I am on my way hence, unless some unforeseen event delay me. I -have but to withdraw my poor girls from Paris, at least those that -like to follow me; to place the somewhat wasted wealth which I have -here under the protection of the laws, if the laws, indeed, can give -protection now-a-day; to make sure of one point more, which will soon -be settled, and then to depart."</p><p class="normal">The face of the dwarf, which, during the whole of his interview with -his lady, had been agitated with strong feelings either of -mortification or of joy, now at once resumed the look of calm bitter -cynicism, which, though perhaps more natural to his features, was, at -all events, more habitual. "Ay, lady!" he said, "so it is ever! There -is ever one point more to be made sure of when a lady's love and her -judgment lead her different ways; and that one point more will very -surely keep your steps from Italy. So I will e'en go and sing."</p><p class="normal">"Knave, thou art somewhat too bold!" cried Beatrice. "I have pampered -thee too much, and made thee insolent; but thou shalt be better taught -in future!"</p><p class="normal">"Not so, lady, not so!" cried the dwarf, in a deprecatory tone. -"Forgive the first outbreaking of my disappointment. I thought our -journey to Italy sure, when suddenly came that '<i>one point more</i>;' and -I know human nature all too well to doubt, that upon one small point -love can raise up such mighty prison-walls, that the best climber, ere -he could escape, would break his neck in the attempt to scale them."</p><p class="normal">"Like others who fancy they know human nature well," answered -Beatrice, "thou cheatest thyself with thine own imaginations. That one -point more will not detain me here; but whether thy curiosity -regarding it--and which I clearly see--originate in folly or in -policy, it shall not be gratified. Content thyself with what I choose -to tell thee, and ask no more! And now listen to my commands. Make -every preparation for a journey; and in regard to this house, on which -I have wasted so much wealth that might have been better spent, take -order that, if possible, it be guarded against the chances of these -civil wars till peace be again established. You understand what I -would have. When law is once more recognised in France, perchance it -and the hotel in Paris may be sold, and I have nothing more in a land -that I no longer love. Now get thee hence and leave me; but let all -things be done quickly."</p><p class="normal">The dwarf replied nothing, but retired at once; and Beatrice, after -following him with her eyes to the door, sat for several moments in -silence, with an air of anxious thought. "I doubt that imp!" she said -at length. "I doubt that imp! There has of late been a fire and an -eagerness in his words when he speaks to me that I love not; and I -have remarked that his eyes, when he thinks that mine are not on him, -have a somewhat bold familiarity with my person." And as she thus -thought, a slight shudder passed over her. "I doubt him," she went on; -"and he is bold, and cunning, and politic, to a point rarely reached -by those whose communion with their fellow-men is more extended than -his, and who, consequently, find a thousand things to call their -attention from their darling schemes. I doubt him, and will have him -watched! I fear he may have betrayed me already, but he shall do so no -more. Annette!" she cried aloud, "Annette!"</p><p class="normal">The girl appeared, and her mistress bade her send Joachim to her. Some -minutes then elapsed; but at length appeared the old man who had so -skilfully managed the little comedy which had enabled Beatrice and -Eugenie de Menancourt to pass the gates of Paris. "Joachim!" said his -mistress, as he entered, "have a strict watch put upon the dwarf -Bartholo: I doubt him; I doubt his faith and honesty."</p><p class="normal">"And so do I, lady," replied the man. "I myself heard you command him -not to show himself in the sight of the Count d'Aubin, and to my -certain knowledge he visited him alone in his chamber."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed!" said Beatrice, thoughtfully; "indeed! That may mean much! -But have him watched, without making it apparent. Quick, Joachim! You, -at least, I can trust."</p><p class="normal">"You may, dear lady!" replied the old man, laying his hand upon his -breast; and then, bowing low, he left Beatrice to long, deep, anxious -thought.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">There be many hearts that, in the full fruition and delight of what -they have obtained by evil means, know not remorse, and taste such -happiness as gratified passion can bestow. There be also those firm -and constant hearts which in the midst of trouble and adversity shake -off one half of calamity's heavy load by the strength of conscious -virtue and integrity; and there be some so dull and so obtuse, as, -under any circumstances, not to see and appreciate the worst portion -of their fate. But the curse of curses, the deepest earthly -retribution that can be poured upon the head of the wicked, is to find -their schemes frustrated, and their desires disappointed, by the very -evil means which they have taken to accomplish them. Such was the case -of Philip d'Aubin at the moment he left Beatrice of Ferrara; but -passion, and mortified vanity, and angry pride, combined to support -him for the time, and to shut his eyes to the stinging certainty that -his own vices had produced his own misfortune.</p><p class="normal">For an instant he gazed after the fair girl he had lost for ever, as -she turned from him in beautiful disdain; and he felt tempted to -follow her, and casting himself once more at her feet, to acknowledge -his errors, and throw away his faults in repentance. But with her -anger there had mingled a look of scorn, against which the worst -weakness of his nature rose in arms. Her indignation, her reproaches, -her wrath, he could have borne, but the contempt that curled her lip -roused vanity against repentance; and setting his teeth firm, he -muttered "Never! never!" and took another path to the chateau. Passing -hastily to the apartments which he had occupied, he bade the servant -that he found in waiting, summon the <i>maītre d'hōtel</i> to his presence, -and questioned him on his arrival in regard to what part of the -baggage with which he had joined the army of the League at Ivry had -been brought thither from the field, and where were the soldiers and -attendants who accompanied him.</p><p class="normal">"Neither baggage nor attendants of your own followed you here, sir," -replied the man. "You were carried off from the field insensible by -four or five of my lady's horsemen, and came hither still in your -buff-coat and part of your broken armour. The purse which was on your -person, sir, and its contents, are in that closet, if you have not -taken it. Your horse is well, and in the stable; but your troops and -your attendants were all dispersed; nor have we heard aught of any of -them, except that some found their way to the Chateau d'Aubin; for -which, and for your lands in Maine, we learn his majesty the king, at -the request of Monsieur de St. Real, has granted an immunity, lest -they should be plundered in the war."</p><p class="normal">There was a dryness in the man's tone that displeased the Count -d'Aubin; and eyeing him with a somewhat frowning brow, he said, "Well, -then, I will go forth from your lady's dwelling as I entered it, -alone. Order my horse to be saddled: doubtless a countryman can easily -be hired to guide me on my way to my own lands. How far is it hence to -Vibraye or La Ferte?"</p><p class="normal">"Some thirty leagues, sir, by the road," replied the <i>maītre d'hōtel</i>; -"but if you cross through the woods and by the hills--where the way is -not bad--the distance is hardly more than half as much."</p><p class="normal">"Well, then," said D'Aubin, "I will take the shortest; seek me a -guide;" and while the man was gone upon that errand, he walked up and -down the room with his hands clasped, and his eyes bent upon the -floor. Even then his better spirit whispered that it was not yet too -late; but the fiend rose against such counsel, and setting his teeth -hard, he took his purse from the spot where it had been placed, and -descended to the court-yard. His horse was already prepared; and one -or two of the innumerable retainers that thronged a great mansion in -those days were loitering about below. The <i>maītre d'hōtel</i> returned -in a few moments with a guide, riding on one of the small horses of -the country, and D'Aubin, putting his foot in the stirrup, slowly -mounted his charger. As he did so, he ran his eye over the many small -windows of the building; but nothing like a female face was to be seen -at any of them; and, turning to the attendants who stood around, -somewhat marvelling to see him thus depart alone and unnoticed, after -all that had lately passed, he bestowed upon them half the contents of -his purse, and then, with a slow pace and frowning brow, rode through -the gates into the country beyond.</p><p class="normal">There was a well of bitterness in his heart, which kept him silent as -he rode on; and more than half an hour passed ere he even asked a -question of the guide. Nor was his a mind to be soothed or comforted, -or rendered better or wiser, by thinking over events in which his own -follies had acted so principal a share. Too much a spoilt child of -vanity willingly to examine his own conduct with steady and impartial -eyes, he felt himself injured, rather than reproved, and meditated -chiefly how he might heal the wounds which had been inflicted on his -pride. At length, however, the sight of a distant town recalled to his -mind the state of the land through which he travelled; and he -remembered that it might be absolutely necessary for his own security -to ascertain the exact political situation of the different cities in -the vicinity. The guide, to whom his questions were of course -addressed, was shrewd and intelligent enough; and from his answers -D'Aubin found that the track, through which his road lay, thinly -peopled, and possessing few places of any importance, had known, as -yet, but little of the evils of civil war. A body of troops had, -indeed, occasionally crossed it. One or two of the defensible chateaux -were held for the king or for the League; now and then, too, a troop -of plunderers attached to one of the parties would appear, carry off -what pillage they could collect, and then retire; but no regular force -was known to be in the neighbourhood, except indeed a company of horse -arquebusiers, stationed at the small town of La Loupe, on the part of -the king, in order to keep open his communication with Maine and -Touraine. The guide, himself, was a strong Royalist; and as the Count -d'Aubin soon ascertained that fact, he neither gave him any -information in regard to his own party and opinions, nor trusted too -much the man's reports of great successes attending the king's arms, -and of the return of peace and prosperity, wherever the country -heartily resumed the virtues of obedience and submission.</p><p class="normal">Having now, by the questions necessary to ascertain the state of the -country, broken the dull and sullen taciturnity which had bound him -for some time, after quitting the chateau of Beatrice of Ferrara, -D'Aubin continued the conversation, as a relief from thought; and many -was the subject on which he needed information, as during the last few -weeks he had given up all his thoughts to happier topics, and to -brighter dreams, than either war or policy could supply. Curiosity of -every kind had seemed dead within him; but now he learned much from -the answers of his guide, and guessed more from many a vague distorted -tale, which the man had heard, concerning the late movements of the -armies;--tales which, indeed, contained in general less truth than -falsehood, but which were easily rectified, by the previous knowledge -and better judgment of the narrator's auditor. Much, too, did D'Aubin -hear of Beatrice of Ferrara; of her habits of life since she had -quitted Paris; of those kindlier virtues and gentler pursuits which a -capital suffers not to show themselves; and of the ardent and -enthusiastic love which the peasantry around had learned to bear -towards her. He listened and mused, and good and evil purposes -struggled hard together in his heart; but the evil was still -predominant; and though a lingering inclination to cast himself at her -feet, and sue for pardon, would make itself felt, more often still did -he ponder upon the means of teaching her, who had so bitterly rebuked -him, to repent in agony of spirit the resolution she had formed -against him. Ever and anon, too, with a feeling of still unconquered -triumph, he thought, "She loves me still! she loves me still! and the -man who possesses a woman's love holds her in bonds that it is -difficult to break."</p><p class="normal">Thus past the hours; and towards seven o'clock the guide stopped at -the poor <i>auberge</i> of a small open village, in order, as he said, to -give the horses rest and provender. The scene was wild and hilly; and -D'Aubin now began to recognise the country around, which was little -more than twelve French leagues from his own paternal dwelling. His -recollection was vague, however, and not sufficient to justify him in -dismissing his guide; and, anxious to proceed, he took no refreshment -himself, but urged the man to hasten on, hoping, ere night had -completely fallen, to reach some spot, whence he could go forward -alone on the following morning. But the people of the <i>auberge</i> were -slow, and the guide, who was their acquaintance, still slower; -inasmuch as, finding himself in comfortable quarters, he had -predetermined to take up his abode there for the night. He looked out -towards the west, declared that the sun was lower than he had thought -for; looked out towards the south, and predicted a sharp storm. But -D'Aubin was neither of a disposition, nor in a mood, to be delayed at -any man's will and pleasure; and, in consequence, he urged such cogent -arguments in regard to the payment of his guide's services, that the -man did at length bestir himself, and the horses were brought to the -door.</p><p class="normal">"How far is it to the little village of Neuville?" demanded D'Aubin, -after they had ridden on about a mile.</p><p class="normal">"Four good leagues, Monseigneur," replied the man; "but before we -reach that, we come to the chateau of Armenēon, which has ever held -out stoutly for the king, and we are sure of a hearty welcome there, -should need be;" and as he spoke he looked up to that part of the sky -which rested, as it were, upon the edge of the high hilly bank forming -the southern boundary of the steep, narrow valley, or rather dell, up -which their road led on into the forest. D'Aubin turned his eyes in -the same direction, and beheld, what is very common in the valleys of -the Seine and the Eure during summer, large leaden masses of cloud, in -the shapes of rolling columns and sharp cones, rising up from behind -the hill, clear, defined, and harsh upon the sky, like the side-scenes -of a theatre. These are the invariable precursors of a thunder-storm; -but often they roll on for many hours, changing from one fantastic -shape to another, ere the fire within them breaks forth, and the -strife begins. The Count paid them no farther attention than was -evinced by slightly hurrying his pace. The track upon which he was now -entering was broken ground, forest, and hill; but still the road lay -on through the same dell, skirting the banks of a small stream which -fell at no great distance into the higher Eure. The uplands on either -side hid the sun, and afforded a shade which would have been pleasant -in that hot season, had not the closeness of the atmosphere, and the -want of the slightest wind, rendered the whole air equally oppressive. -The day rapidly declined as the travellers rode on, and the clouds -stretched wider overhead, while every now and then a faint, shifting, -electric light played between the detached masses, and showed that the -warfare of the elements was about to commence. D'Aubin was not a -little anxious now to hurry on; but ere he had accomplished more than -two leagues of the appointed way, night had fallen, and the storm had -begun. The lightning D'Aubin heeded but little, though his horse would -every now and then start and rear, as the bright glare gleamed across -the narrow road; but he knew the violent deluge of rain, in which -those storms generally end, would not be long ere it followed; and -feeling himself far more fatigued than he expected, he loved not the -thought of prolonging his journey under the outpouring of the watery -sky. They had now reached the summit of the hill: the trees afforded -but little shelter; and a few large drops began to patter upon the -leaves. "Ride on, my lord, ride on," cried the guide, who saw -D'Aubin's lately acquired strength beginning to flag; "the chateau of -Armenēon is not above a league off."</p><p class="normal">"But I do not intend to stop till I reach Neuville," replied D'Aubin, -"Think you if we pause here under the shelter of some of the thickest -trees that the storm may not pass off?"</p><p class="normal">"Not to-night, sir, not to-night," replied the man; "but why not stop -at Armenēon?" he continued with more eagerness, as the rain rapidly -increased: "they will show you all hospitality there; and if you be -just recovered from a sickness, as the <i>maītre d'hōtel</i> told me, it -will kill you to ride on for two or three hours more in a night like -this."</p><p class="normal">"Two or three hours!" exclaimed D'Aubin. "What! to travel three -leagues!"</p><p class="normal">"Ay, sir," answered the man, "even so. We are not here as if we were -coursing a hare over the plains. We shall have to go up and down -twenty steep hills ere we reach Neuville; but we shall be at Armenēon -in three quarters of an hour."</p><p class="normal">"But I do not choose to stop there," replied D'Aubin, hastily: and for -a moment or two the man paused without reply. The next instant, -however, he said in a respectful tone, "I guess how the matter is, -sir: you are one of Mayenne's friends, and if so, good faith! you are -right not to go near Armenēon. They shot the captain's brother in cold -blood, not long since, in Paris, and, by my soul, it would go hard -with any of the Leaguers if they were found within the chateau walls."</p><p class="normal">"I had nothing to do with the death of his brother," said D'Aubin, -"but still I will not trust to an angry man. Tell me, however, my -friend, can I trust to <i>you?</i>"</p><p class="normal">"On my life you may, sir," replied the guide; "and I would not take -you now into Armenēon for my right hand. But it is coming on to pour: -your cloak will soon be wet through; and hereabouts there should be a -hut where the wood-cutters live in the spring and autumn. That will -give better shelter than the trees; and most likely you may find a bed -of rushes, and some pine-wood to dry your cloak withal."</p><p class="normal">"That were luck, indeed!" replied D'Aubin: "let us hasten on then, my -friend; and if you can meet with this hut, I will pay you for its -shelter better than ever <i>aubergiste</i> was paid."</p><p class="normal">The memory of the guide was exact; and their search was not long. The -hut was, indeed, but four walls, thatched with stubble and plastered -with mud; and the door, which was made of straw, interwoven with -boughs, was lying detached upon the ground: but it was soon replaced; -and the frequent flashes of lightning enabled them to discover the bed -of moss and rushes which the guide had expected, and a small store of -dried fragments of the resinous pine, which, lighted by a flint and -steel, soon shed some better light upon the interior than was afforded -by the fitful glare without. The interior was too small to admit the -horses also; but D'Aubin satisfied himself with placing his own beast -under a tree, and mentally saying, "He will do well enough," returned -to the shelter of the hut, cast off his dripping cloak, and seated -himself upon the pile of dried herbs.</p><p class="normal">Still the storm continued, and still the incessant pattering of the -heavy rain bade the travellers be contented with the refuge they had -found. For awhile D'Aubin endeavoured to occupy his thoughts by asking -a number of questions of his guide, and listening to the long-winded -stories which the other, feeling the moments of inactivity as tedious -to his own restless and wandering nature as they were to the Count, -willingly poured forth for the sake of doing something. At length, -however, his stock exhausted itself; and an hour more passed in -silence and expectation; but the storm still went on.</p><p class="normal">The guide's patience now gave way. "My Lord," he said, "you will be -starved here, if I can find you nothing to eat. You took neither bit -nor sup at the <i>auberge</i>, though you had ridden many a league; but -amongst the houses that lie under the chateau of Armenēon, I have a -cousin, and can, I doubt not, procure a piece of meat and a flask of -wine. I will say that it is for an old lady, whom I am guiding through -the wood, and who cannot come on for the storm."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin did feel exhausted, and in need of food; but still he -hesitated to let the man depart, for in those days acts of treachery -were not uncommon; and his life might depend upon his passing the -castle of Armenēon unobserved. The guide, however, insisted; and as -there was no means of staying him without showing suspicions, which -often produce the very evils they point at, the Count at length -suffered him to depart, and remained alone, determined to try whether -he could not sleep away the time while the peasant was absent.</p><p class="normal">The attempt was vain; and, stretched upon the bed of moss where the -hard limbs of honest industry had enjoyed many a night of comfortable -repose, the gay and glittering Count d'Aubin strove in vain to banish -from his bosom the torment of thought. Memory rested on the past, and -conscience knew her hour, and seized it with relentless power. His -gone existence was spread out before him like a map; and the -upbraiding voice within proclaimed each stage of folly and of vice -through which he had proceeded, and still read its sad comment upon -every act, showing his gradual downfall from honour, wealth, -splendour, reputation, happiness, and love, by his own errors and -vanities. The long procrastinated examination was forced upon his -heart at length; and oh! with what minute agony the moral torturer -wracked forth the inmost secrets of his bosom, and then broke him upon -the wheel of despair. His fortune irreparably injured; he himself -bound by large debts to an unfeeling mercenary; the party which he had -joined against his conscience ruined and falling; his baffled schemes -holding him up to the laughter of his light companions; the woman -whose wealth was to have repaired the consequences of his own -extravagance flying him with horror, and avoiding him with success; -and the only woman whom he had ever really loved now regarding him -with what had once been affection, changed, by his own infamy, into -hatred and contempt. Such were the terrible matters on which reason, -and conscience, and remorse had to comment during his hours of -solitude; and, from the first moment that those thoughts arose, he -felt that it would be a madness to deem that he could sleep. The agony -of his mind affected his body too much even to suffer him to lie -still; and starting up, he sometimes paced the narrow limits of the -hut like a tiger in its cage, sometimes cast himself down in his fury, -and cursed the hour that he was born. He reproached, he reviled -himself for everything; and, in the torture that he felt when alone, -exclaimed, "Fool that I was to let the boor leave me! even he were -better than no one, in this gloomy, accursed place, with the lightning -flashing eternally in my eyes, and the melancholy rain pattering over -head."</p><p class="normal">As he thus thought, the sound of horses' feet splashing through the -wet ground made itself heard in the intervals of the thunder, and the -moment after, D'Aubin could distinguish that there was more than one -traveller upon the road. A suspicion of his guide instantly crossed -his mind, and was immediately confirmed by hearing his voice exclaim, -"There, in that hut! You will find him there!"</p><p class="normal">The Count loosened his dagger in the sheath; and partly drew his -sword, while, stepping back to the farther side of the hut, he watched -for the opening of the disjointed door. A moment or two elapsed, -during which D'Aubin could hear the stranger on the outside speaking -as if to his horse, while he tied him under a tree; and then the -matted screen was pushed back, and the diminutive figure of Bartholo, -the dwarf, stood before him. Without uttering a word, Bartholo -advanced towards the Count, and cast himself at his feet with a look -of imploring deprecation that D'Aubin did not understand. It was -explained in a moment, however. "My Lord," said the dwarf, earnestly, -"my Lord, I find that when last I saw you I deceived you; and, by the -counsel that I gave you, I have brought insult and disappointment upon -your head. My fault was involuntary; but I deserve to be punished; and -I have sought you myself; that you may wreak what vengeance upon me -you like."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin too well knew that to the counsels of his own perverse and -pampered heart he had listened more than to those of the dwarf; but he -was glad, nevertheless, to find any one on whom he could heap a part -of the blame; and while he snatched eagerly at the opportunity of -accusing another, he felt a degree of gratitude for the relief which -mitigated the bitterness of self-reproach.</p><p class="normal">"Alas! alas! my poor Bartholo!" he said, "you did deceive me, indeed! -But I am willing to believe that you deceived me unwittingly; and I -seek not to punish one who wished to serve me, though he failed."</p><p class="normal">"You are noble and generous ever, sir," replied the dwarf; "and though -she does not know the value of the heart she tramples on, others do, -and I will conceal it no longer. You little know, sir, how much art, -intrigue, and exertion were made use of to estrange from you a heart -that loved you, and rob you not only of your promised bride, but of -her affection."</p><p class="normal">"How say you?" cried D'Aubin, eagerly. "Speak more clearly, good -Bartholo; I do not understand."</p><p class="normal">"I know not whether I ought to speak more clearly or not," answered -the dwarf; "for although it is her pleasure and her pride to sport -with your love, and trample on you, yet it would wring her heart to -hear that, notwithstanding all her wiles, you had been successful with -her rival; and though to you she may appear but as a cold coquette, to -me, who have known her from her childhood, she has ever been a good -lady and a kind."</p><p class="normal">"Bartholo!" cried D'Aubin, sternly, "you have in one thing -miscounselled me, and rendered me miserable. You but now professed a -wish to atone for that error; and I call upon you at once, to clear -away the obscurity which hangs over all these transactions in which I -have been engaged, and to let me see how I really stand between -Beatrice of Ferrara and Eugenie de Menancourt."</p><p class="normal">"I will, sir! I will!" cried the dwarf, "let it cost me what it may. -But I must be quick, for the tale is intricate, and your guide, who -directed me hither, as I was following you to Armenēon, will soon be -back. Listen, then," he continued, while his face resumed all its -bitter cynicism. "Think you, my Lord, that a girl, all gentleness and -sweetness, like Mademoiselle de Menancourt, could in a moment be -converted into a being as stern and resolute as an old warrior, -without some very potent magic? Think you that she who once loved you -to all appearance as much as a young maiden ever ventures to show, -would all at once affect hate and detestation towards you without some -very mighty cause? Think you that a girl who knows nothing of the -world, and is as timid as a young deer, could alone find means to -cheat hard-judging Mayenne and keen Madame Montpensier, and pass a -blaspheming Huguenot soldier off for a Catholic priest, frustrate you -and all of them by a false marriage, and then effect her escape from a -beleaguered city, where a thousand eyes were upon her; and all this by -the simple exertion of her own courage, ingenuity, and daring? Pshaw! -One would think to hear it, and to hear that you and Mayenne believed -it, that the warriors and the politicians of this world were changed -into old women. My Lord! my Lord! Eugenie de Menancourt loved you, -loves you, will love you still; and only now weeps the perfidy which -my noble lady--thinking, as all women do, that everything is fair in -love--taught her to fancy that you had committed against her. Had not -Mademoiselle de Menancourt learned to think, from the first moment she -set her foot in Paris, that your whole heart and soul were given to -the Lady Beatrice, and that you sought her hand only on account of her -wealth, she would at once, on her father's death, have flown to your -arms for protection. But, day by day, and hour by hour, that idea has -been strengthened and confirmed in her mind by a voice whose eloquence -no one knows better than you and I. Another time I will point out how; -but at present you will trust me--for your wits are not darkened -enough to doubt so apparent a fact--when I tell you, that the carrying -off the priest, the false marriage, and the escape from Paris, are all -owing to the fertile brain and daring courage of Beatrice of Ferrara. -She it was who robbed you of your bride; and she it is who now -conceals her within three leagues of this place, weeping that Philip -d'Aubin is false, and resolving to enter a monastery as soon as she -hears of his marriage to another."</p><p class="normal">"But St. Real!" exclaimed D'Aubin, "St. Real! I have more than -suspicions there."</p><p class="normal">"Pshaw!" cried the dwarf; "she thinks not of him. He may love her, -perhaps, but she thinks not of him, but as a brave good-humoured lad, -with wit enough to lead a score or two of iron-pated soldiers. But, -once convince her that you love her, and that those who have told her -you loved another were interested deceivers, and you will soon find -the ice will melt, and all the coldness pass away. And now, my Lord, I -have told you all. I have given you the key to the mystery; and -though, God knows, there are few men in this world that can comprehend -clearly anything beyond a schoolboy's sum, done upon a broken slate, -yet the matter here is so simple you cannot well mistake. Now I must -leave you; for if I be not back ere morning dawn, and my lady -discovers my errand, I may chance to die by an earlier death than I -have calculated on."</p><p class="normal">"But stay, stay yet a moment, good Bartholo," cried the count; "you -have not told me yet where I may find this fair lady. Think you my -marriage with her will touch your mistress so deeply then?"</p><p class="normal">"That is what I fear, my Lord," replied the dwarf, assuming a look of -sorrow, "that is what I fear. I owed you atonement, sir; and I have -made it at the risk of mortifying all the proud feelings of a lady and -mistress that I love; for I know that she calculates upon seeing you -again at her feet, and pouring forth upon you more of her scorn and -indignation, before she leaves you for ever, and returns to Italy. She -was laughing over the scene with Annette just now."</p><p class="normal">"It is a scene she shall never see!" said D'Aubin, biting his lip. -"But tell me where dwells this fair fugitive--this Mademoiselle de -Menancourt? She is, indeed, as beautiful a creature as the eye of man -ever yet beheld. One not difficult to love."</p><p class="normal">"Oh no!" cried the dwarf; "where is the heart that would not be -envious of the man who wears a jewel such as that upon his hand. Her -dwelling, I have said, is not far off. You know the little stream that -separates the lands of Aubin from those of Menancourt. Trace it up to -its source amongst these hills, and not half a league from the spot -where it bubbles from its green fountain you will find two cottages, -in one of which is the object of your search. It is not like the -ordinary dwelling of a French peasant; for the Lady Beatrice has taken -a pleasure in decking forth her friend's home after the fashion of our -own land, where taste, and the love of all that is beautiful, descends -even to the lowest tillers of the soil."</p><p class="normal">"I shall easily find it," replied the count; "and yon fair scornful -dame shall find that D'Aubin can seek him a mate as beautiful as -herself. Bartholo, I trust you--once more I trust you! but oh! if you -deceive in this also, look to your heart's blood; for I will find -means to punish you, should you hide in the farthest corner of the -globe."</p><p class="normal">"My Lord, I deceive you not," replied the dwarf, "nor in this am I -myself deceived. But, I entreat, undertake no enterprise upon my -showing, without resolving to carry it through at all hazards. If you -would have the love of that fair creature you seek, spare no vows and -persuasions to efface from her mind the evil impression that others -have given of your conduct. Nor trust to that alone. Forget that the -marriage was null. Act upon it as if she were your wife, till you have -her safe in your own chateau; and then let the ceremony be performed -again. Neither must you seek her alone, and unattended by a sufficient -force to assert your right, should it be opposed. I know that five or -six of my lady's bravest followers are always watching near that spot; -and there may be more. Stir not a step, without fifty horseman at your -back. At all events, remember, my noble lord, that if you undertake -this enterprise without sufficient strength and resolution, the -failure must not be laid to me. As I hope for life and happiness, I -believe that you may be fully successful."</p><p class="normal">"I am not apt to want in resolution, Bartholo," replied D'Aubin. -"Hence I shall speed to my own dwelling without a moment's loss of -time; but it may take long in the present state of affairs to collect -such a troop as fifty men."</p><p class="normal">"Yet time is everything!" replied the dwarf. "'Tis more than likely -that changes may take place, of which I cannot inform you; and if the -lady be removed from her present refuge, our scheme is ruined. To be -bold and rapid is the best road to success, after all. Who can tell -what even to-morrow may bring forth?"</p><p class="normal">"True!" answered D'Aubin; "and, if possible to-morrow's sun shall not -set ere Eugenie de Menancourt be mine. Then let your mistress and her -maids laugh over the scene of my supplications if they will! But I -must be guided by circumstances. At present my purse is but lean, my -good friend. Nevertheless----"</p><p class="normal">"Speak not of it, sir! speak not of it!" replied the dwarf. "I came to -do what I have done, in order to make atonement for an involuntary -error towards one who was to me the most generous of masters; and who -never could accuse me of giving him false information before. I sought -not gold, and will not take it. But if you succeed, and if you be -happy, sometimes remember the poor dwarf when he is far away."</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, he kissed the hand of his former lord, and departed, -drawing the matted door after him. The next moment D'Aubin heard his -horse's feet; and, again left alone, he once more cast himself upon -the bed of moss, and gave himself up to thought. His feelings, -however, were now very different from what they had been an hour -before. Although, as we have before shown, the idea of wedding Eugenie -de Menancourt, repairing his wasted fortune by her wealth, and -triumphing proudly over her who had scorned and rejected him, and made -him the common jest of Paris, had never quitted his mind, even while -yielding willingly to his passionate love for Beatrice of Ferrara; yet -the repulse he had met with, from a being on whose love and compliance -he had counted with full confidence, the bitter scorn that she had -displayed towards him, and the keen disappointment that her rejection -inflicted, had, in spite of all the Titan-like struggles of pride, so -abased and overwhelmed him, that he had lost courage, and looked with -hopeless eyes upon all the daring schemes on which, at other times, he -would have entered so boldly. The words of the dwarf, however, had -revived him, not alone by showing him the easy means of accomplishing -one part of his purpose, but by pointing out a new end to be obtained, -a new object of desire, and that, too, of a nature to give the only -alleviation which his heart was capable of receiving in the pain he -suffered--the alleviation of revenge. He felt that Beatrice was -already unhappy; that his conduct was--must be--a source of misery to -her; but that feeling, far from making him pity her, roused up his -suffering vanity to strive for means of avenging upon her the insult -which her purity had offered to his baseness. The dwarf had pointed -out the way; and to dream of wringing her heart by his marriage with -Eugenie, while he silenced for ever the stinging laughter of his -former companions, was a relief--perhaps a pleasure. At the same time, -a thought crossed his mind that the tale of his having dwelt many -weeks concealed in the dwelling of Beatrice of Ferrara, joined to his -reputation for gallantry, might, perchance, leave her proud reputation -for virtue somewhat sullied; and, as he thought thus, a smile, -mingling vanity and pride and vengeance altogether, passed over his -lip, and gave his fine features the expression of a demon; and yet -this was the bright and fascinating Count d'Aubin: whom we have seen -so full of light and harmless gaiety in the beginning of this volume, -and such was the creature he had, step by step, become.</p><p class="normal">Before the visit of the dwarf he had tried to sleep in vain; but now -he felt the gnawing pain at his heart relieved by a new purpose; and, -after the return of his guide with wine and meat, he ate and drank, -though sparingly, and then, casting himself down once more, slept -undisturbed till morning dawned.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Leaving the Count d'Aubin to pursue his schemes to their conclusion, -we must now follow Bartholo home to the chateau of Guery. Few were the -friends which the page possessed amongst the servants of his mistress; -but in that number was the old warder at the gate, who, warned -beforehand of the dwarfs absence, hastened to give him admittance -without noise on his return. Bartholo stabled his horse and rubbed him -down with his own small hands, and then, entering by a side-door, -passed through the great hall, which was lighted by one of the large -paper globes of the time--not at all unlike a Chinese lantern--and -picking his steps through the midst of the straw mattresses upon -which, as was then customary, several of the inferior servants were -sleeping, he made his way towards a staircase leading to the room -which had been appropriated to himself during the illness of the Count -d'Aubin, and he had now resumed. Opening the door, he entered, -congratulating himself upon not having been seen, when suddenly he was -seized on either side, and held fast to prevent him from using his -dagger, while some one at the farther end of the chamber drew a screen -from before a concealed lamp, and Bartholo found himself in the hands -of the major-domo and two stout grooms, who, with little compassion -and less ceremony, proceeded to bind him tightly hand and foot.</p><p class="normal">The dwarf asked not a question, and said not a word; and the old -<i>maītre d'hōtel</i>, though loving him but little, refrained from any -expression of triumph, merely directing the grooms to watch him well -and not molest him, and then left him for the night. Early the next -morning the cords were slackened upon his ankles, and he was brought -into the presence of his mistress, whose quivering lip and flashing -eye told how much her anger was roused against him.</p><p class="normal">"Bartholo, you have deceived me!" she said; "you have basely deceived -me!"</p><p class="normal">"Those who suspect without cause," answered the dwarf, doggedly, "will -always be deceived in the end, and will deserve it."</p><p class="normal">"And do you think me so weak a being," asked Beatrice, sternly, "as to -believe that he who could practise the piece of knavery which you -executed last night is innocent of foregone deceits? No, poor fool, -no! and even were it not that--as is ever the case with favourites in -disgrace--the whole household is pouring forth tales of thy former -treason now that it no longer avails me to know it, I should still -feel as certain of your guilt as I am of living and breathing, and -should only daily look for the instances of your knavery. I seek not, -man, to make you own either your former or your present baseness; all -I seek to know is your motive. Tell me, were you bribed to divulge my -secrets and thwart my plans? Were you hired to betray the mistress -that trusted and befriended you?"</p><p class="normal">"No man does anything without the hope of recompense," replied the -dwarf, "nor woman either."</p><p class="normal">"I should have thought," answered Beatrice, in a tone of bitter but -sorrowful reproach, "that no recompense would have been sufficient to -bribe you to sting the hand which cherished you when all the rest of -the world either scorned or forgot you."</p><p class="normal">"You mistake me, noble lady," said the dwarf, "I see you mistake me. -There are men and women both that sell their honour for gold; but I am -not of them. There are still more, both men and women, that pawn their -virtue for less solid payment, ay, and sell even their souls for -vanity; but still no bauble was my bribe. It was neither title given -by some profligate king, nor words of flattery spoken by some vicious -lover. I had--I own it--a motive before my eyes, a recompense to look -forward to; but I choose not to speak it before these gaping fools. -Should I ever again have your ear alone, to it I may tell the cause of -all that is strange in my behaviour--if aught be strange in the -actions of man. But till then I am silent."</p><p class="normal">"Leave me!" said Beatrice, looking towards her attendants, "retire to -the ante-room--no farther!" Her commands were instantly obeyed; but -still there was many an ear eager for the sounds of what passed -farther; and those who dared, advanced close to the door, which was -not entirely closed. The dwarf's voice was heard speaking quick and -long, but in tones so low, that the eavesdroppers were all at fault. -At length, however, the voice of Beatrice exclaimed, "Madman! dared -you to entertain such a hope?"</p><p class="normal">"I entertained no hope," replied the dwarf, aloud--"I entertained no -hope, but that I might never behold you in the arms of another!"</p><p class="normal">"Here, Joachim, Annette!" cried the voice of Beatrice, and in a moment -the room where she sat was again crowded with her attendants. They -found her with the eloquent blood glowing in deep crimson through her -clear fine skin, and dying her brow and temples and neck with a blush -almost painful to behold. "Take him hence!" she cried, pointing to the -dwarf with a look of irrepressible disgust, which, as his eye marked -it, turned him deadly pale. "Take him hence!--and yet stay," she -added, addressing him--"I suppose it is vain to question you as to -what you told to him whom you went last night to visit."</p><p class="normal">A change had come over the appearance of the dwarf, which it were -difficult to describe. The paleness that had followed Beatrice's last -words remained--even his lips were blanched; and though with his white -upper teeth he bit the under lip unconsciously, no mark appeared -after, so bloodless was his whole countenance. He replied, however, -with a voice of unnatural calmness, "It is not in vain, madam, to ask -me anything you seek to know. Life is over with me,--at least, life's -hopes and fears; and I may as well tell you all, as conceal anything. -The moment that what I have dared to do was discovered, that moment I -knew that the game was lost; and it is in vain now to play a few moves -more or less."</p><p class="normal">He then, as shortly as possible, repeated the substance of what had -passed between D'Aubin and himself, in regard to Eugenie de -Menancourt's abode, and the means of securing her person, and that -concluded, calmly suffered himself to be led back to the room where he -had passed the night, and where he was now left alone.</p><p class="normal">In the meantime, Beatrice, with a hasty hand, wrote a few words on -several sheets of paper, and ordering horses to be saddled instantly, -gave the letters to the servants who were first prepared. "This to La -Loupe," she said, giving one, "for the captain of the arquebusiers; -and bid him mark within the king's own hand to the command. This to -the chatelain of Armenēon. Tell him, if he cannot spare many, to send, -if it be but twenty men, well armed end mounted. This to the Lady -Eugenie, with all speed! Away, away! This purse to him who does his -errand soonest. Now, Joachim, now! you gather together all the men -that we have here, and all that are in the neighbouring town; arm them -to the teeth, and make speed! Tell me when all is ready, and lose no -time!--Away! for we must endeavour to be first on the spot, and carry -off that poor timid dove from her dovecot, ere the kite pounces upon -her. If we are too late to save her from danger, we must do our best -to rescue her, whatever befall."</p><p class="normal">Beatrice's orders were as rapidly obeyed as given; but we must deviate -a little from our general plan, and quitting the persons with whom we -have begun this chapter, turn once more to the efforts of the Count -d'Aubin; efforts which were unfortunately but too successful. The sun -had not risen half an hour ere D'Aubin was again in the saddle; and -though his horse was somewhat stiff from having passed a night in the -open air, in the midst of storm and tempest, the Count urged him on at -full speed, and never drew a rein till he was within sight of his own -paternal home.</p><p class="normal">There are feelings touched by the view of such a place, so interwoven -with all the texture of our being, that even the coarse hand of vice, -or the more cunning touch of worldly-mindedness, can hardly tear them -out; but it was not any such emotions that caused D'Aubin to stop and -gaze round him as he approached the dwelling of his fathers. It was -that, in a field close to the chateau, he beheld a man, dressed in the -costume of a German soldier, sauntering idly about, and talking to -some women who were weeding the ground. An undefined apprehension of -danger made him pause; but the next moment he spurred his horse -furiously on, and rode into the court-yard. It was filled with -reitters, who were sitting round in various attitudes, eating their -morning meal in the early sunshine. The apparition of a single -horseman, for the guide was some furlongs behind, did not seem to -disturb in the slightest degree their German phlegm; and D'Aubin was -suffered to cast his rein over a hook, and push open the great door of -the hall without one of the troopers ceasing from his pleasant -occupation, to ask the business of the intruder. The first object the -Count beheld in the hall was one of his own servants; but the next, -which rendered all question unnecessary, was a large breakfast-table, -covered with loads of meat and flagons of wine, at which sat Albert of -Wolfstrom, and one or two of the officers of his troop. The apparition -of D'Aubin was certainly unexpected, for the party of the League -believed him dead; but it required no lengthened explanations to make -him comprehend that his friend, the captain of the reitters, had -hastened with as many of his men as had escaped the bloody fight of -Ivry to take possession of the lands and chateau of Aubin, in order to -pay himself some certain thousands of crowns, won by him at play, ere -the next heir of the supposed dead count put in his claim, either by -the sword or otherwise.</p><p class="normal">As he was well aware that no party would permit of his holding long -possession of the lands, the mercenary leader had employed means to -raise the sum he claimed, which now caused some sharp and angry words -to pass between him and the count,--words which might not have ended -bloodless had D'Aubin at the moment been prepared to expel the Germans -from his dwelling: but his own retainers and domestics were dispersed; -and not above two or three of his old attendants were to be found -within the walls of the chateau. The thought of his fine old trees -felled to supply the greedy craving of the mercenary, his crops and -cattle swept away, his peasantry half ruined, did enrage him almost to -striking Wolfstrom where he stood; but in the midst of his anger he -remembered that there was but one way to clear off this and many -another similar claim upon him, and to emerge into greater splendour -and power than ever; and in that dim and misty dream of splendour and -power he fancied that the voice of conscience, and remorse, and -disappointed love, would never be heard.</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, Wolfstrom," he added, abruptly breaking off the angry -vituperation he was heaping upon the chief of the reitters, "you might -have waited a little longer; you might have proceeded a little more -moderately; but now send out and order all to be stopped instantly, -then lend me your full and active aid for this one day, and you shall -receive every farthing in gold before a week be over."</p><p class="normal">"Ay, indeed! how so?" demanded the other, somewhat doubtingly; for -Albert of Wolfstrom had nothing very confiding in his disposition. "As -to waiting, you know, sir count, that was out of the question -entirely, for we thought you dead; and as to proceeding more -moderately, you know I was obliged to make haste, for on the one hand -Mayenne might call me to Paris in a day, at any time; and on the -other, the Bearnois and your cousin might come down and turn me out; -so that I was obliged to make good use of my time. But how can I serve -you?"</p><p class="normal">"How many men have you here?" demanded D'Aubin.</p><p class="normal">"Why, not many, on my life," answered Wolfstrom; "only a hundred and -fifty. All the rest were killed or taken at that cursed Ivry. But what -do you want us to do?"</p><p class="normal">"Listen!" said D'Aubin. "I last night learned, Wolfstrom, that by a -foul scheme my promised bride was persuaded that I did not love her, -and that it was thus she was induced to fly immediately after our -marriage."</p><p class="normal">"But do you know, Monsieur d'Aubin," interrupted Wolfstrom, "that the -good folks in Paris vow, that marriage of yours was no marriage at -all; that the priest was a mad Huguenot soldier, and that----"</p><p class="normal">"Never mind all that," replied D'Aubin, "I have here a priest in the -neighbouring village who has done me some services already, and he -will bind me in half an hour to Eugenie de Menancourt by a knot that -can never be untied, without asking any questions or listening to any -objections. Only let me once have her safe within these walls!"</p><p class="normal">"Ay, but how is that to be done?" demanded Albert of Wolfstrom.</p><p class="normal">"That is what I was about to tell you," answered the count. "The same -person who informed me of the means which had been used to estrange -her affection from me, informed me also of the place of her present -dwelling. It is within six leagues of this castle, and all that is -necessary in the present case is----"</p><p class="normal">"To carry her off by a <i>coup de main!</i>" cried Wolfstrom, clapping his -hands at the sound of a project which combined, in a degree peculiarly -adapted to his palate, villany and adventure. "Bravo, sir count I -bravo! Let us about it immediately."</p><p class="normal">"Thanks, thanks, Wolfstrom, for your ready aid," replied D'Aubin. "All -that we have to do is to mount fifty men, and to lose no time; the -first, because the girl has some guards stationed round about her, and -more may be sent; the second, because the keenest eye in France is -upon her and me, and she may be removed."</p><p class="normal">"Well, well, to it at once," cried Wolfstrom, moving towards the door; -but ere he reached it he stopped, and, turning to the count said, in a -low tone, "Of course you will give my men a day's pay."</p><p class="normal">"And you a thousand crowns to boot, if we succeed," answered the -Count, who knew that there was nothing comparable to gold for -quickening his comrade's energies.</p><p class="normal">"We had better take a hundred men at once," said Wolfstrom, when he -heard that they were to be paid; "they are as soon mounted as fifty, -and we are then more sure. Fifty can stay to guard the chateau."</p><p class="normal">D'Aubin made no objection, and Wolfstrom proceeded to give his orders, -which were rapidly obeyed by the well-trained veterans still under his -command. A fresh horse was provided for D'Aubin, and another for the -guide, who, without his consent being asked, was ordered to lead the -way, with a trooper on either side, to the spot which D'Aubin -described. Two old but nimble jennets from the stable of the Count -were led in the rear; and thus the cavalcade issued from the gates of -the chateau of Aubin, and took their way towards the dwelling of the -unfortunate Eugenie de Menancourt. Scarcely had they proceeded a -league, however, when, from the edge of a gentle slope, they perceived -three horsemen galloping quickly on a road in the plain below, as if -towards the castle they had just left.</p><p class="normal">The keen eyes of Wolfstrom instantly marked them; but, after gazing at -them for a moment, he said, "They are two of my reitters whom I sent -yesterday to keep a watch on Armenēon; but they have a third man with -them, and must bring news. We must take care that our retreat is not -cut off." Thus saying, he detached a trooper to intercept the horsemen -by a cross road, and bring them to him, and then halted till they -arrived. Two proved, as had been supposed, ordinary reitters of -Wolfstrom's band, but the third horseman was an armed servant; and -D'Aubin instantly recognised one of the attendants of Beatrice of -Ferrara. He was tied upon his horse, and the troopers brought him up -pistol in hand. Their report was soon made; they had found him -galloping, they said, with such speed towards the castle of Armenēon -that they thought it right to stop him. He fled like the wind, and -they pursued; but at length he was overtaken, and they found upon him -a letter, which, not being able to read themselves, they were now in -the act of conveying to their leader. The paper, as may be already -seen, was the letter of Beatrice of Ferrara to the chatelain of -Armenēon, and it served to show D'Aubin that his movements were -suspected, if not discovered. The servant, however, was now in such -bodily fear, that he at once informed the Count and his companion, -that another messenger had been sent for troops to La Loupe.</p><p class="normal">"What force have they there, Wolfstrom?" demanded D'Aubin. "Do you -know?"</p><p class="normal">"Certainly not two hundred men!" replied the leader of the reitters.</p><p class="normal">"Then there is, first, the probability that the commander will not -listen to the request of this wild girl," said the Count; "next, he -will certainly not dare to detach more than fifty men, and we are here -a hundred. Even if she send her own armed people, too, they cannot -amount to more than thirty, so that we shall still have great odds. -But let me see," he continued, as if a sudden thought struck him, and -turning to the servant, he asked, "When did the messenger leave Guery -for La Loupe?"</p><p class="normal">"At the same moment that I left for Armenēon," replied the man.</p><p class="normal">"Then," said D'Aubin, "we shall be there full four good hours before a -soldier from La Loupe can be within a league. Let that fellow go, -Wolfstrom. You, my good man, ride back with all speed to your -mistress, present the Count d'Aubin's humble duty to her, and tell her -he is her most devoted slave! Do you hear? There is a piece of gold -for you--away!"</p><p class="normal">The man seemed doubtful if his ears heard true; but at length -convinced, he took the gold, cap in hand, and rode slowly away. In the -meantime, D'Aubin and Wolfstrom again put the troop in motion; and -riding briskly on, calculated once more between them the distance from -Guery to La Loupe, and from La Loupe to the spot whither their steps -were now directed. D'Aubin was found not to have judged amiss; for -even supposing the troops mounted and the captain willing, it appeared -that the reitters must arrive at least four hours before them. "When -we come up," said D'Aubin, as they concluded, "let your men surround -the house, at such a distance as not to be seen; yourself and five or -six others come nearer, so as to be within call; and, after -ascertaining that there is no force actually present to oppose us, I -will go on and plead my cause myself. It were better to persuade her -gently, and without frightening her, if possible; but if I find her -still obstinate, we must use a little gentle compulsion: for I am -resolved," he added, with a smile of triumph, "that by the time the -troops from La Loupe reach her late refuge, Eugenie de Menancourt -shall be in the chateau of Aubin; ay, and irretrievably the wife of -its lord!"</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXV.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">What was once a poor farm-house, in a woody and remote part of the -hills in which the Eure and Loire take their rise, had, under the -touch of taste and affluence, been transformed into a beautiful little -habitation, half rustic cottage, half Italian villa; and all this had -been done as easily as the genii built the palace of Aladdin. The -wood-work had been painted green, so that the heavy planks which, when -shut, closed the windows, looked light; the thatch had been nicely -clipped and trimmed; the inside had been hung with arras, and -decorated with paintings in the fashion of the day; and along the -front had been carried a portico, consisting of unpolished trunks of -trees for columns, and a light trellis-work of boughs to soften the -strong sunshine. The face of the house was turned towards the south; -and it might have commanded, from its elevated situation, a beautiful -view over the greater part of Maine, had the tall old trees which -screened it in front been partially cut away: but those in whose -possession it now was had carefully abstained from the axe; not alone -from reverence for the ancient trees, but because quiet concealment -was with them a great object of desire. No place, in truth, could have -been better chosen for that purpose. There was, indeed, one horse -road, which came within a few hundred yards of the house, but it went -no farther than to a small isolated village not more than a league -distant, and there ended. Another, passing a little farther off, led -away to the chateau of Guery, at the distance of three leagues on one -side, and to the small town of ---- on the other; but even this was -merely a bridle path, upon which there was scarcely any traffic in the -best of times, and much less now that civil war had stilled all -commercial spirit in the land.</p><p class="normal">It was in the little portico, then, which we have noticed, that on the -evening of a warm clear day in June, occasionally shaded by the masses -of a broken thunder-cloud, which, during the night, had poured forth a -tempest on the earth, sat the fair Eugenie de Menancourt, into whose -cheek the warm glow of health and youth had returned, during a long -interval of peace and tranquillity. Hither, after many wanderings, had -she been brought by Beatrice of Ferrara, as soon as it was known that -the Count d'Aubin was no longer in the neighbourhood; and in order to -be sufficiently near her, to give her every sort of aid and -protection, without calling further attention upon her retreat by -living with her, the fair Italian had retired to the chateau of Guery -which she possessed in the neighbourhood. The time had, as we have -seen, passed without bringing molestation to Eugenie; and she now sat -with an open letter in her hand, gazing out upon the woodland scene -before her eyes, and seeing those mixed visions of romance, and -tenderness, and melancholy which are so often present to a woman's -eyes, and are the more dear, because she is taught to hide that she -beholds them. Before her were those dark old trees; on her right a -thicket of shrubs of many a varied kind; behind her the room in which -she was wont to sit--then called her bower, and on the left, some -fields screened again from the road by other trees. It was a calm -sweet scene; and Eugenie felt not unhappy, though there might be other -things she would have fain brought in, to form her picture of perfect -felicity, and although the letter which she held in her hand from -Beatrice of Ferrara, by telling her not to be alarmed at anything that -might happen, for that friends were near, had, in some degree, created -the apprehension is was intended to relieve.</p><p class="normal">As she sat thus and gazed, she thought she heard the tramp of horse; -but the sound, if sound there were, ceased, and she believed that her -ears had deceived her. A moment or two after, a long ray of sunshine -that found its way between the bolls of the trees, and spread a pencil -of light upon the green turf at her feet, was for an instant obscured, -as if either a cloud had come over the sun, or some dark object had -passed among the trees. Eugenie's heart began to beat quick, and the -next minute a rustling sound in the thicket to her right made her -start up; but ere she could retreat into her own chamber, the boughs -were pushed back, and Philip d'Aubin was at her feet. With a face as -pale as death, Eugenie sank into the seat that she had before -occupied, and gazed with eyes expressive certainly of anything but -love, upon the Count as he knelt before her, and pressed her hand to -his lips.</p><p class="normal">"Eugenie!" said D'Aubin, "Eugenie! I have at length found you, then. -My Eugenie! my wife!"</p><p class="normal">"Oh, no, no!" cried Eugenie, struggling to overcome her terror: "oh, -no! not your wife! No, sir, I am not; I never have been; I never will -be your wife! Death were preferable--ay, the most terrible death were -preferable to that!"</p><p class="normal">"Hear me, Eugenie!" said D'Aubin. "Eugenie, you must hear me! for this -house is surrounded by my soldiers; you are utterly and perfectly in -my power; and if I have recourse to reason and persuasion with you, it -is alone from tenderness and affection towards you, and because I -would rather induce my bride to accompany me willingly and tranquilly, -than use towards her those means of compulsion which I have a right to -exercise in regard to a disobedient wife. Eugenie, will you hear me?"</p><p class="normal">"I have no resource, Sir," replied the unhappy girl; "but still I -repeat that I am not your wife. In the first place, I have at the -altar refused to pledge a vow towards you; and by this time you must -well know that the man who read the vain and empty ceremony which you -are pleased to call a marriage was not one invested with that sacred -function which is requisite to render a marriage legal, even with the -willing consent of both parties."</p><p class="normal">"All I know is, that the marriage ceremony was performed between us," -replied D'Aubin, "and that it is registered in the archives of Paris. -That you are my wife, therefore, there is no doubt; and that I have -the right, as well as the power and the will, to take you home and -regard you as my wife, is equally indubitable. Still if you require -it, the ceremony shall be performed again; but hope not any longer to -avoid taking upon you the duties of the position you hold in regard to -me, for, as I told you, I have a hundred men within call ready to obey -my lightest word! Shall I make them appear?"</p><p class="normal">"Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Eugenie, wringing her hands. "What, what -shall I do?"</p><p class="normal">"Merely listen to me, Eugenie, my beloved!" cried D'Aubin. "With the -power to compel, a thousand times rather would I succeed by entreaty; -and instead of seeking to command you, let me at your feet seek to -persuade you. Hear me plead my cause, Eugenie, in language that you -have never heard me use before, because I was ignorant of the motives -which actuated you, and attributed your conduct towards me to mere -caprice, whereas I now know it to have been just, excellent, and wise, -and like yourself. The same ignorance has made me harsh to you, and -unjust towards my cousin St. Real; and I will not rise from my knee -till you have heard my exculpation, and fully know how much we have -all been deceived."</p><p class="normal">"Indeed!" said Eugenie, "indeed! yet I am at a loss to guess what you -can mean."</p><p class="normal">"Well may you be so, Eugenie!" replied D'Aubin; "well may you be so! -For it was only yesterday that I learned the elucidation of the -mystery myself. You have been cheated, Eugenie; you have been -deceived; you have been taught to believe a man who loved you, and you -alone, a heartless profligate. But first hear me, Eugenie, when I -declare that I have never loved any one but you; that from the first -moment your hand was promised me by your father, the idea of your -young charms has ever been present to my mind, and the hope of soon -possessing them been the consolation of my whole existence."</p><p class="normal">Eugenie coloured deeply: "I am grieved, sir," she replied; but D'Aubin -interrupted, saying,--</p><p class="normal">"Hear me, Eugenie, to the end: I have but given you a picture of my -own feelings towards you. Now let me display all the base and crooked -means that have been taken to alienate your affection from me, and -then tell me if it be right and just to let those means still have -effect, when you are convinced of their falsehood and iniquity. Only -yesterday did I discover that at Paris you had become acquainted with -one of the late Queen Catherine's train of ladies--a train which, I -need not tell you, was and will remain marked with infamy to the eyes -of all posterity!"</p><p class="normal">"Perhaps so!" cried Eugenie eagerly; "but the name of Beatrice of -Ferrara will always be excepted. The daughter of a sovereign prince, -she was always as distinguished by her virtues as by her rank; and my -father on his death-bed told me that I might always confide in her, -for that, in the midst of the terrible trial of universal bad example, -no one had ever been able to cast a reproach upon her fame."</p><p class="normal">"It may be so!" replied D'Aubin; "it may be so! but doubt not, -Eugenie, that she has passions and weaknesses too; and the confidence -you gave her was misplaced. All has been revealed to me. I know -everything that has passed, and therefore I am justified in saying -that she has made us both her tools. Did she not tell you that I loved -her--that I had vowed vows and made protestations at her feet? I know -she did. I know that both by open words, and slight insinuations, she -poisoned your mind against me; that she taught you to believe me -profligate and base--"</p><p class="normal">"Never! never!" cried Eugenie, "never, upon my word."</p><p class="normal">"No matter," cried D'Aubin, "she made you credit that I loved her, not -you; that by vows and promises I was bound to her. She it was that -always crossed me in your esteem; she frustrated the arrangements for -our marriage; she laid the scheme, and executed the whole of your -flight from Paris. Is not this true? and do you think she had not a -motive? Eugenie, I tell you she had. It may make me appear vain in -your eyes; but, to exculpate myself, I must reveal that motive. -Eugenie, she has loved me from our first meeting; she has loved me -with all the ardour and all the fire of which an Italian is capable; -but so to love unsought, is never to win love. She has teased me; she -has persecuted me with her affection. But do not mistake me, Eugenie; -I have never loved but you--you alone have I sought, you alone have I -sighed for. To her I have turned a deaf ear and a cold heart. I care -not for her, I love her not, I have never loved--ay! and though I -scruple not to say that, no later than yesterday, I might have made -her mine on any terms I chose--"</p><p class="normal">There was a slight rustle in the room behind--a quick step; and -Beatrice of Ferrara stood by the side of Eugenie de Menancourt. -D'Aubin started up from his knee. "Liar! traitor! villain!" cried the -beautiful girl, with eyes from which mighty indignation lightened -forth like fire bursting from a volcano;--"Liar! traitor! villain!" -and as he rose, she struck him what seemed but a slight stroke upon -the bosom with the quickness of light. D'Aubin grasped his sword, then -let it go, and raised his hand to his eyes; a stream of dark gore -spouted out from his breast; he reeled, and murmuring "Jesu, Jesu!" -fell at the feet of her he had so basely injured.</p><p class="normal">Still holding the dagger tight in her grasp, Beatrice stood and gazed -upon him; and Eugenie too, with her hands clasped, and turned as it -were into stone by fear and horror, remained straining her eyes upon -the fearful sight before her.</p><p class="normal">At that moment, the furious galloping of horse was heard along the -nearest road, then came the clashing of steel and pistol shots; and -Joachim, the servant of Beatrice, glided from the room whence his -mistress had issued, and drawing her by the sleeve, exclaimed--"There -seems a large force coming up, madam! save yourself, ere this be -inquired into. The horses are still where we left them, at the end of -the lane."</p><p class="normal">But Beatrice, without reply, continued to gaze upon the corpse of him -she once so passionately loved, apparently unconscious of aught else -but the terrible act she had performed. The next moment, the voices of -several persons approaching were heard; and through the trees appeared -two gentlemen on foot, followed by half a dozen soldiers dragging -along Albert of Wolfstrom, with his hands tied.</p><p class="normal">"We are in time, fair lady, to do your behest," cried Henry IV. who -was at the head of the party, speaking in a joyous tone, as, as the -distance of the trees he caught a sight of Beatrice without seeing the -object at which she gazed. "Your letter reached me, as I marched -along, and though addressed to my <i>locum tenens</i> at La Loupe, I made -bold to break the seal. But where is this perverse and rebellious -Count d'Aubin?"</p><p class="normal">"There!" cried Beatrice, in a voice which had lost all its music. -"There he lies! never to be perverse or rebellious again! Oh, Philip, -Philip! thou hast trod upon a heart that loved thee--cast happiness -from thee--sought destruction--and found it from a woman's hand!"</p><p class="normal">"Indeed!" cried the king, hastening forward with St. Real, who was his -companion. "In God's name, what is all this? Pardie, 'tis too true! -There he lies, indeed!" The king's eye then glanced to Beatrice, while -St. Real gently led Eugenie away from the scene of blood and horror in -which she had been made an unwilling sharer. The dagger was still in -the hand of the fair Italian, though that hand now hung by her side as -if it had never possessed power to strike the blow which had laid such -strength and courage low; but her sleeve was dyed with blood; and a -slow red drop trickled down the shining blade of the poniard, and fell -from the point to the ground.</p><p class="normal">"From your own speech, lady!" said the king, after a momentary pause, -"I learn that you have just committed an awful act, especially for a -woman's hand. Nevertheless, I cannot but believe, from all that I have -heard, that this was an act of justice! He was a rebel, too, at the -moment of his death, in arms against his king; and, therefore, this -deed is not to be too strictly investigated; otherwise--although as -the head of a sovereign house you are armoured with immunities--it -would become me to refer the inquiry to my council. As it is, Philip -Count d'Aubin having been slain in arms against his monarch, in the -commission of an illegal act, and by your hand, of course justice -withholds her sword from avenging his death, yet I think that it is -expedient for you, lady, to quit this realm with all convenient speed; -and to insure your safety, a party of my own guard shall accompany you -to the frontier. My words seem to fall upon an inattentive ear! May I -ask if you have heard me?"</p><p class="normal">"Yes, yes," replied Beatrice; "I have heard, my lord--your majesty is -lenient! My crime is great; but be it as you will, I am ready to go! -My thoughts, to speak the truth, are not so clear as they might have -been some half hour since--I thank your majesty! All I ask is a -prisoner's diet, bread and a glass of water,--for I am thirsty, -exceeding thirsty! Then I am ready to set out.--Philip, farewell!" she -added, gazing upon the corpse: "we shall meet again! Our deeds unite -us for ever! Alas! alas! where shall I go, my lord?"</p><p class="normal">"Her brain is troubled," said the king, in a low tone, turning to one -of the officers who followed; "go in with her, call her own people -about her; but treat her with all reverence. She must be sent forth -from the kingdom as speedily as possible. Madam, this officer will -conduct you. Set a sentinel at the door," he added, in a low tone, "as -if for honour; but let her people be with her, and lay no restraint -upon her, except in watching whither she goes."</p><p class="normal">"Will no one give me a glass of water?" said Beatrice, moving towards -the house.</p><p class="normal">"It shall be brought in a moment, lady," replied the officer, -following. "Where are this lady's attendants?"</p><p class="normal">"Well, St. Real," said the king, turning to the young cavalier as he -issued forth again from the house just as Beatrice entered. "Pardie, -we are too late in one sense, after all, though not too late to -prevent the mischief these fellows meditated. Ventre Saint Gris! but -this cousin of yours was an ungenerous villain; and I am sorry for -that poor girl, who, to my thinking, has driven the dagger deeper into -her own heart than into his. Well, there he lies, and one of the -conspirators against our fair heiress of Menancourt is disposed of; -now to despatch the other. Martin, bring forward the prisoner."</p><p class="normal">"Sir Albert of Wolfstrom," continued the king, "it seems to me that -your name was once enrolled amongst the troops of my late cousin, -Henry III. and that you chose the chance of a halter and better pay on -the part of the League. Traitors against myself, God help me, I am -fain to forgive, leaving them to God and their consciences for -punishment; but traitors to the late king I forgive not, and, -therefore, I shall turn over your case to my good friend De Biron, who -is not merciful, but just. Your own heart, therefore, will tell your -fate: if it condemn you, be sure that ere to-morrow's noon you will be -lying like him you stare at with such open eyes."</p><p class="normal">"Cannot I take service with my troop?" demanded Wolfstrom, with -undaunted effrontery. "Your majesty suffered the Swiss at Ivry to come -over to you."</p><p class="normal">"They were only enemies, not traitors," replied the king; "I can have -traitors enow without paying them, sirrah!--What is that outcry -within, St. Real? No more tragedies, I trust!--What I have said, Sir, -is decided," continued Henry, again turning to Wolfstrom, while St. -Real entered the house to ascertain the cause of the sounds of -lamentation that they heard. "If your conscience tell you that you -deserted the late king, bid good-by to the world! By my faith there -must be something the matter there!" he added, as the tones of grief -came again from within; and turning hastily, he himself entered the -house, and advanced to a room from the open door of which the sound -proceeded. The sight that presented itself needed little explanation. -In a large chair, near the centre of the room, sat Beatrice of -Ferrara, with her head supported upon the breast of her faithful old -servant Joachim, while kneeling at her feet, and weeping bitterly as -she clasped her friend's knees, was the beautiful form of Eugenie de -Menancourt. Around were a number of female attendants, filling the air -with lamentations; and on one side stood St. Real, gazing eagerly in -the face of the fair Italian. But that lovely face had now lost the -loveliness of life, the bright dark eyes were closed, the colour of -the warm rose no longer blushed through the clear white skin, the lips -themselves were pale, and the dazzling teeth showed like a row of -pearls, as the mouth hung partly open. Her right hand was still -clasped upon a glass from which she had been drinking; and rolled away -upon the floor was a rich carved <i>bon-bonničre</i>, from which a small -quantity of white powder had been spilt as it fell. Throughout the -whole room there was a faint odour, as if of bitter almonds; and -Henry, who well remembered that same perfume, when some of the noblest -in France had died somewhat suddenly, exclaimed at once as he entered, -"She has poisoned herself!"</p><p class="normal">"Too true, I fear, my lord!" replied St. Real; "but a leech has been -sent for."</p><p class="normal">"In vain! in vain!" said the king. "She is dead already, St. Real! -That is no fainting fit; and even were she not dead already, no skill -on earth could save her from the tomb. I know that hateful drug too -well. Come away, St. Real! Mademoiselle de Menancourt, come away! Nay, -I command! You do no good here!"</p><p class="normal">Thus saying, Henry took the fair girl's hand and led her to another -room, where, after speaking a few words of comfort, he added, "But I -must to horse again and forward towards Le Mans. You, St. Real, I -shall leave behind with your regiment, for the protection of this one -fair lady, though those that persecuted her are no more. His body -shall be carried to his own dwelling, and lie beside his father's. -That I will see to. And now, though this is a solemn moment, and the -scene a sad one, yet Mademoiselle de Menancourt, I must put it out of -fortune's power to persecute you farther, for the treasure of this -fair hand. Nay, nay, I must have my will!--Take it, St. Real," he -added, placing it in his. "If I judge right, you value it highly; and, -as you well deserve it, I give it to you now, lest any of my many -friends should crave me for the gift hereafter. I would rather say to -those who ask it that it is given, than that I will not give it. To -your love and sorrow, lady, I leave the last rites of yon beautiful -and hapless girl. Hers was a hard fate, and a noble mind; for, cast by -fortune into the midst of corruption, with a heart all warmth and a -fancy all brightness, she came out still, pure as gold refined in the -fire, which, Heaven forgive us, is what few of us can say for himself. -Amidst all the falsehoods and follies of the late court, never did I -know the breath of scandal sully her fair name! She was, indeed, <i>one -in a thousand!</i> Conceal the manner of her death, if possible; and let -such honours as the church permits convey her to her last long home! -Now, farewell!"</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h4><br> - -<p class="normal">Of all the many personages which have figured in this tale, there are -but few of whom it behoves us to give any farther account. The lives -of some stand written on the bright and glorious page of history, -never to be effaced till the waters of time have rolled long over this -portion of the globe, have levelled our dwellings and our monuments -with the sands, have washed away our learning and our records, and -blotted out not alone the sweet domestic memories--on which each -succeeding generation sets its foot, trampling with all the insolence -of youth the withered flower just dead--but have also razed, from the -hard tablet of glory, the few names that are really worthy of eternal -consecration. When such a change has taken place,--and who shall say -that it will not?--when Europe shall be called the land of forests and -of barbarism, and some prying strangers alone shall come from their -happier lands, and try to trace upon the desert shores the mouldering -remnants of arts and sciences and nations long gone by, perhaps the -name of Henry IV. of France, and those who resemble him, may be -forgotten, but till then they have a glorious existence separate from -the rest of men. The Duke of Mayenne, too, ambitious and intriguing, -but generous and often wise, has a share of the page of history; and -all those who continued to play a conspicuous part in the days of -Henry Quatre, either for good or for evil, have their record in the -annals of the time. This tale can alone take farther note of those -whose fate it has depicted in the preceding pages, and who at this -point separate themselves from the general course of history, either -to fall into the calm repose of sweet domestic life, or to seek a -refuge from unhappy fortunes in the tomb.</p><p class="normal">The body of Beatrice of Ferrara being removed from the cottage where -Eugenie de Menancourt had dwelt so long, was borne to the chateau in -which she herself had spent the last hours of her own existence; and -with curses and imprecations upon his head, the tale of what his -machinations had wrought was told to the dwarf Bartholo by the more -faithful yet less attached servants of his late mistress.</p><p class="normal">He listened to the whole in sullen composure, and even a smile played -upon his lip as he heard of the death of the Count d'Aubin; but when -the last sad event was mentioned by the narrator, and he learned that -Beatrice herself was dead, he struggled with the bonds that tied him, -and then cast himself grovelling on the ground, which he dewed with -his bitter agonising tears. He strove to tear his flesh with his -teeth; and when they took him up, more to gaze upon his torture, than -with any feeling of compassion--for no one loved, and no one -compassionated him--he raved upon them with frantic and incoherent -words, and again cast himself down in raving despair. For several days -he refused all food; but at length pity touched some one, and a leech -was sent for, who bled him largely, which produced a change. He no -longer raved, he no longer refused food, he took what was offered him, -did what was bid him; but it was with the slow and sullen stupidity of -an idiot. The fire, too, had left his eye; his activity was gone; his -witty sauciness at an end; and he would sit for days gazing vacantly -upon the floor, without hearing what was said to him, and without -addressing a word to any one. At length, the body of Beatrice of -Ferrara was conveyed to Italy for the purpose of being interred -amongst her princely ancestors; and then, though none knew how he -escaped, it was perceived that the dwarf was gone also. It was not, -indeed, extraordinary that he had disappeared without notice; for -after his frenzy had terminated in idiocy, no one had paid him much -attention.</p><p class="normal">How he travelled so great a distance, and how he supported himself by -the way, are equally unknown; but some three months after, the -wretched being was seen wandering about in the long vacant streets of -Ferrara, enduring the scoff of the schoolboy and the peasant. He -remained in that part of the country for several years; and those who -had known him when first he had entered the household of the princes -of Legnano, often gave food and money out of charity to the poor -dwarf, whom they now despised and had formerly hated. At length, one -morning, when the sacristan took his early round through the chapel in -which the dead of that noble house slept in the cold marble which was -their place of last repose, he was startled by seeing something curled -up at the end of the new monument erected to the Princess Beatrice. He -touched it, but it stirred not; and, familiar with the dead, he -carelessly raised up the head, and beheld the lifeless features of the -dwarf Bartholo.</p><p class="normal">The Count d'Aubin lay with his ancestors; and the noble estates of -which he had been once the improvident possessor passed to his next -male heir, the Marquis of St. Real. To St. Real it was pointed out by -skilful and honest lawyers that, as the creditors who had claims upon -the late Count could not easily prove their right, his estates might -be rendered clear by a very simple process of law. But St. Real -preferred a simpler process still; and from the funds accruing from -large and well-managed lands discharged the debts, and freed the -inheritance. The claims which were the most difficult to arrange were -those of the heirs and successors of one Albert of Wolfstrom, who -having been executed, under a judicial sentence regularly pronounced -by a competent tribunal, for various transactions which did not even -permit the harlot compassion of public excitement to attend his end, -it was more than doubtful whether any of the demands which were made -upon St. Real in his name were really to be sustained. There were some -through which the young Marquis at once struck his indignant pen, and -others which, though equally illegal, he paid at once; but in the end, -as so often happens, the debts which had seemed overwhelming to him -whose bad management had incurred them, were easily liquidated by a -more provident though not a less liberal lord; and the estates of -Aubin made a splendid addition to those of the Marquis of St. Real.</p><p class="normal">The young lord himself saw Eugenie de Menancourt reinstated in her -ancestral halls, and wandered with her for a few days through the -scenes they had both loved in childhood--scenes where the memories of -the past, both dark and bright, blended into a solemn, but a sweet and -soothing light, which, shining mellow and calm upon the happy present, -gradually brightened into hope as the eye turned towards the future. -It was like the twilight of the summer sky in a far northern land, -where the night and the day mingle together in the west; and the soft -and shaded, yet radiant, sunset continues till the dawning of the -morning appears on the opposite horizon, so that the beams of the past -and the future day meet in the zenith of the present.</p><p class="normal">It might be said that the experience which Eugenie de Menancourt and -Huon St. Real already had of the past was sufficient to have justified -their immediate marriage. But Eugenie had her scruples, and St. Real -had a confidence derived from higher sources than either the usual -happy fortunes of his house, or the promising turn which the war had -taken. An old female relation was sought to bear the young heiress -company for the next six months. To her Eugenie's education had been -principally confided during her youth; her instructions had greatly -tended to render her what she was, and St. Real thought that the -society of no one could be better for her he loved till the day of -their marriage at length arrived. In the meantime, he rejoined the -king's army, and took part in the various events of the war which -ultimately placed Henry IV. in possession of the capital of his -kingdom, and put an end to the troublous times by which his reign -began; but it will be remembered by all persons well versed in that -portion of the history of France, that the part of the country in -which the estates of Eugenie de Menancourt were situated never fell -again into the hands of the League. Various detached towns in Normandy -and Maine that faction did indeed continue to hold for some time, but -the progress of the king after the battle of Ivry was uninterrupted, -though gradual, till peace crowned his efforts; and his people learned -to love, nay, almost to adore, the monarch against whom many of them -had drawn their swords.</p><p class="normal">At length, six months after the death of Beatrice of Ferrara, Eugenie -de Menancourt gave her hand to him whom she was not now ashamed to own -she had loved from her earliest youth. Henry signed the marriage -contract; and when the young Marquis, having seen him firmly seated on -the throne of his ancestors, took leave of the monarch and his court, -resolved to spend the rest of his life, as his fathers had done before -him, in the calm tranquillity of his paternal domains, Henry placed -round his neck the order of the <i>St. Esprit</i>, saying, that as he well -knew he should but seldom see his face again, he was resolved to give -him something whereby to remember the days he had passed with Henry -Quatre.</p><p class="normal">Do we need to inquire how St. Real and Eugenie passed their after -life? It sometimes happens, indeed, that two people who have loved -well and truly in the first burst of youthful passion, crossed, -disappointed, and soured, persevere against all opposition through -long years of withering anxiety, till they meet together at length, -with tempers irritated, and hearts no longer the same; and find -nothing but misery in that union, from which they had anticipated -nothing but happiness. Not so, however, St. Real and Eugenie de -Menancourt. They had long loved without knowing it; and had chiefly -had to struggle with the opposition of their own principles to their -own wishes. They had been thwarted, but not disappointed; they had -been grieved, but not irritated. Their sorrows had served like the -black leaf on which the diamond is set, to increase, not tarnish, the -lustre of the happiness they now enjoyed. But happiness will not bear -description. It is the calm stream that neither foams nor murmurs; and -theirs continued flowing on like a mighty river, which, troubled and -obstructed at its source, soon overbears all obstacles, and then, -having once reached the calm level of the open country, flows on -increasing in volume, though it loses in brightness, till the full -completed stream falls into the bosom of the eternal ocean.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4><br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: The passion for dwarfs as attendants in great houses was -so universal in France at this time, that the most extravagant sums -were given for them. Henry III. is reported to have had no less than -nine at one time; and at his court there was a regular <i>tailleur</i> and -<i>valet des nains</i>.</p><br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: This speech of the dwarf applies to various modes of -travelling then known in France, which it might be tedious to explain -more fully in this place.</p><br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: The Duke of Guise, who held the throne of Henry III. and -was afterwards barbarously assassinated by command of that monarch, -had been his bosom friend in youth.</p><br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_04" href="#div4Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: In English, a mortgage. This sort of encumbrance was but -too frequently created in France during the wars of the League and the -epoch of debauchery which preceded, accompanied, and followed them.</p><br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_05" href="#div4Ref_05">Footnote 5</a>: I have, in another romance, published long since this -work was written, given a description of the phenomenon here -mentioned, and have in that tale attempted to depict it as it appeared -to the Royalists.</p><br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>WOODFALL, AND KINDER PRINTERS, LONG ACRE, LONDON.</h5><br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's One in a Thousand, by George Payne Rainsford James - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE IN A THOUSAND *** - -***** This file should be named 50689-h.htm or 50689-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/6/8/50689/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by -Google Books (the University of Virginia) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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