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Title: The Little Ball O' Fire or the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall
The Works of G. P. R. James, Vol. XV.
Author: G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford James
Release Date: July 18, 2015 [EBook #49473]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE BALL O' FIRE ***
Produced by Transcribed by Charles Bowen from page images
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Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Google Books
"https://books.google.com/books?id=l_QDAAAAQAAJ"
(provided by Oxford University).
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
MR. JAMES'S RECENT FICTIONS.
----------
NOW READY,
THE LAST OF THE FAIRIES: a Christmas Tale for 1848. By G. P. R. James,
Esq. Foolscap 8vo, 5_s_.
MARGARET GRAHAM: a Tale founded on Fact. In 2 vols. post 8vo, £l 1_s_.
======================================================================
_The Sixteenth Volume of the New and Illustrated Edition of_
THE WORKS OF G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.
Will be published on the 1st of April, 1848.
==========
This new and attractive Series of Mr. James's Works is published
Quarterly. It commenced on the 1st of July, 1844, and the following
Volumes have already appeared:--
Vol. I. containing THE GIPSY July 1st, 1844.
Vol. II. -- MARY OF BURGUNDY Oct. 1st, 1844.
Vol. III. -- THE HUGUENOT Jan. 1st, 1845.
Vol. IV. -- ONE IN A THOUSAND April 1st, 1845.
Vol. V. -- PHILIP AUGUSTUS July 1st, 1845.
Vol. VI. -- HENRY OF GUISE Oct. 1st, 1845.
Vol. VII. -- MORLEY ERNSTEIN Jan. 1st, 1846.
Vol. VIII. -- THE ROBBER April 1st, 1846.
Vol. IX. -- DARNLEY July 1st, 1846.
Vol. X. -- THE BRIGAND; OR CORSE
DE LEON Oct. 1st, 1846.
Vol. XI. -- THE KING'S HIGHWAY Jan. 1st, 1847.
Vol. XII. -- THE GENTLEMAN OF THE
OLD SCHOOL April 1st, 1847.
Vol. XIII. -- HENRY MASTERTON July 1st, 1847.
Vol. XIV. -- FOREST DAYS Oct. lst, 1847.
Vol. XV. -- THE LITTLE BALL O' FIRE Jan. 1st, 1848.
*** The Third Volume, in addition to the usual Illustration, contains
a new and highly-finished Portrait of the Author.
----------
The following are Extracts from a few of the favourable Reviews which
have appeared of this Series:
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possesses the advantage of being revised and corrected by the author,
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"Mr. James is a writer whose vraisemblance is always so perfect, and
even what he invents so like truth, that we can never fancy we are
reading fiction, nor indeed are we, in the historical portions of his
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LONDON: PARRY & CO., 32 & 33. LEADENHALL STREET.
THE WORKS
OF
G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.
------------
VOL. XV.
THE LITTLE BALL O' FIRE
[Frontispiece: The Little Ball O' Fire]
Hablot K. Browne H. K. Browne & R. Young
"If you do not instantly quit me, sir," she exclaimed in a loud and
vehement voice, "I will call those who can and will protect me against
your daring insolence."
THE WORKS
OF
G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.
REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR.
WITH AN INTRODUCTORY PREFACE.
"D'autres auteurs l'ont encore plus avili, (le roman,) en y mêlant les
tableaux dégoutant du vice; et tandis que le premier avantage des
fictions est de rassembler autour de l'homme tout ce qui, dans la
nature, peut lui servir de leçon ou de modèle, on a imaginé qu'on
tirerait une utilité quelconque des peintures odieuses de mauvaises
m[oe]urs; comme si elles pouvaient jamais laisser le c[oe]ur qui les
repousse, dans une situation aussi pure que le c[oe]ur qui les aurait
toujours ignorées. Mais un roman tel qu'on peut le concevoir, tel que
nous en avons quelques modèles, est une des plus belles productions de
l'esprit humain, une des plus influentes sur la morale des individus,
qui doit former ensuite les m[oe]urs publiques."--MADAME DE STAEL.
_Essai sur les Fictions_.
"Poca favilla gran flamma seconda:
Forse diretro a me, con miglior voci
Si pregherà, perchè Cirra risponda."
DANTE. _Paradiso_, Canto I.
VOL. XV.
THE LITTLE BALL O' FIRE.
LONDON:
PARRY AND CO., LEADENHALL STREET.
M DCCC XLVIII.
THE
LITTLE BALL O' FIRE
OR,
The Life and Adventures
OF
JOHN MARSTON HALL.
BY
G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.
AUTHOR OF
"MARGARET GRAHAM," "THE LAST OF THE FAIRIES," ETC.
"Wo viel Licht ist, ist starker Schatten!"
Götz von Berlichingen.
LONDON:
PARRY AND CO., LEADENHALL STREET.
M DCCC XLVIII.
TO
HER IMPERIAL MAJESTY
ALEXANDRA FEODEROWNA,
EMPRESS OF ALL THE RUSSIAS.
----------
Madam,
I should have confined myself to expressing, in terms of unfeigned
admiration and respect, my gratitude for the interest which Your
Imperial Majesty is pleased to take in the literature of my country,
and in the efforts of so humble an individual as myself, had I not
felt that the work which you have permitted me to inscribe to your
name is in every way unworthy of being presented to one, alike
illustrious by talents and virtues, and by rank.
At the time that Your Imperial Majesty's gracious message was
communicated to me, the following pages were not only written, but in
the press; and my strong desire to obey your commands without any
delay, induces me to dedicate this work to you, although it is in some
degree connected with a former production, already, I believe, in Your
Majesty's possession.
Under other circumstances, I might have laboured, though I certainly
should have laboured in vain, to produce a work worthy of your
acceptance; but I must then have delayed long what I was eager to
perform promptly; and, most assuredly, nothing that I could have
written would have worthily testified the admiration and pleasure with
which I have marked, from afar, the immense efforts of yourself and
your Imperial Consort to encourage literature and science in your
dominions, and to improve the moral and social condition of your
subjects.
That those efforts may be crowned with the most brilliant success, and
repay you, to the last of your days, with the noblest recompence that
monarchs can receive,--the blessings of a happy and enlightened
people,--is the sincere prayer of
Your Imperial Majesty's
most humble
and most obedient Servant,
George Payne Rainsford James.
THE
LITTLE BALL O' FIRE
OR,
JOHN MARSTON HALL.
CHAPTER I.
My father was a gentleman of small estate in Lincolnshire, whose
family possessions, under a race of generous ancestors, had dwindled
from splendid lordships to bare competence. His blood, which was
derived from as noble a source as that of any in the land, had come
down to him pure through a number of knights and nobles, who, though
they were little scrupulous as to the means of spending their riches,
were very careful not to augment them by cultivating any but the
somewhat barren field of war. He made a love match with a daughter of
the second Lord Wilmerton; and, in order that his wife might not draw
unpleasant comparisons between the station of her husband and that of
her father, he frequented the court, and lived beyond his means. He
was already in difficulties when I was born; but, like a brave man, he
resolved to meet them boldly, and, after some solicitation, obtained a
small military appointment, which increased his revenue without adding
to his expenses. Loyalty with him was a passion, which, like love in
other men, prevented him from seeing any faults in its object; and, of
course, as the court well knew that no benefits could make him more
loyal than he already was, it showered its favours upon persons whose
affection was to be gained, leaving him to struggle on without further
notice.
My mother I hardly remember, though my memory is very good; but as her
death took place before I was three years of age, her cares of my
infancy were never extended even to my boyhood.
Left thus to conduct my education alone, my father, I firmly believe,
would have suffered nothing to remain undone which could have
contributed to render me a learned man, had not the civil war broken
out, and all the royalists hastened to the support of the King.
Amongst the first of the volunteers who flocked to the royal standard,
when it was raised at Nottingham, was Captain Hall; and having been
sent to Worcester with Prince Rupert, he showed himself the foremost
in those acts of daring courage which turned the contest between
Colonel Sandys and the Prince in favour of the Cavaliers. In every
skirmish and in every battle which took place throughout the course of
the great rebellion my father had his share. The natural desire of
stimulus and excitement, which was originally strong in his character,
grew gradually into a habit, and from a habit became a passion. The
tidings of an approaching conflict would, at any time, have induced
him to ride as far and fast as other men would go for more pacific
pastimes; and the commanders of the royal armies perceived a want in
their ranks when, on looking along the line, they could not discover
the face of Captain John Hall.
During the first year of the civil war I was left at home, under the
charge of my nurse, and of the events of that period I, of course,
remember but little. But shortly after the taking of Birmingham, by
Prince Rupert, a party of Gettes's brigade were quartered at our house
for three days, swept the whole estate of everything that it produced,
carried off all that could tempt their rapacity, and, on their
departure, set fire to the house, as that of a notorious malignant.
My father's home had by this time become the tented field. Houseless
and nearly penniless, the nurse carried me away in search of my only
surviving parent, whose regiment was quartered at a few miles
distance; and being a woman who loved quiet, and hated to see houses
burned over head, she resigned her charge of me as soon as she had
conscientiously placed me in the hands of my natural protector. But
the addition of a child of four years old to his camp equipage was not
by any means desirable in my father's eyes; and for some time he
talked of placing me with a relation here, or a friend there, where I
might remain in security. Two or three months, however, fled without
this plan being executed. We had often during that time to change our
quarters; passed through more than one adventure; were involved in
more than one severe struggle, and encountered as many hardships as a
longer campaign could have inflicted. My father found that I bore up
stoutly against them all, that I was not so great an encumbrance, in
moments of danger and haste, as he had expected; and that in those
lapses of inaction which will break in upon a soldier's life, I
afforded him amusement and occupation of the tenderest and most
engaging kind. Thus I soon became necessary to his comfort and his
happiness; and, though he would often talk still, of having me placed
in some situation where I could be properly instructed in arts and
sciences, and learned lore, it became evident to every one who saw us
together that he would never part with me so long as he could keep me
with him. To make up for the want of other knowledge, however, he
himself began, from my very earliest years, to teach me everything
that might render me successful in that way of life which he himself
had so ardently embraced. My hands, almost in infancy, were accustomed
to the sword, the dag, and the petronel; and I remember, ere I was six
years old, being permitted, as a high favour, to apply the match to
the touchhole of a culverin that commanded a road by which the
Roundheads were advancing.
Many, too, were the dangers through which I passed in safety. Often in
times of surprise and confusion have I sat upon the peak of my
father's saddle, while he cut his way through the enemy; and often
have I stood as a mere child amidst the charging squadrons and the
bristling pikes of a general field of battle. Strife and bloodshed
became so familiar to my mind, that I could hardly conceive another
state of things; and when any occasional pause took place in the
dreadful struggle that then desolated our native land, I used to
wonder at the space of time such idleness was suffered to continue,
and to long for the moment of activity and exertion. It was with joy
and satisfaction that my father beheld this disposition in his son,
and he strove by every means in his power to promote its growth, and
to direct the efforts that it prompted. He taught me to be quick and
decisive, as well as bold and fearless: he bade me always think, in
the first place, what was best to be done, and how it might best be
executed; and then to perform what my reason had suggested without
either fear or hesitation. Always keeping his view fixed upon the
ultimate advantage of the cause he had espoused, he zealously
instructed me to remark and remember every part of the country through
which we passed in our wandering life, and the person of every one who
was brought into temporary connexion with us in the changing fortunes
of those adventurous times.
Besides teaching me to ride and to shoot, and to perform all other
military exercises, he did not fail to give me what little education,
of a milder kind, circumstances permitted, during the short lapses of
tranquillity which occasionally intervened. He was himself, however,
obliged to be my preceptor; for he was not only prevented from
engaging any other person in that capacity, by our continual changes
from place to place, but he was also rendered unable to do so by his
pecuniary circumstances, which had by this time been reduced to the
lowest ebb. Our own property had been sequestrated: the King had no
money to bestow; and, although Captain Hall sometimes enjoyed a moment
of temporary prosperity, after squeezing some rich parliamentarian, or
capturing some inimical town, his whole property more usually
consisted in his horse, his sword, and his son. I acquired, it is
true, in a desultory manner, some knowledge of history, geography, and
arithmetic; but this, together with a smattering of Latin, and the
capability of writing and reading, was all that I could boast of by
the time I was ten years old.
Our moments of quiet, indeed, were always of very short duration; and,
during all my early remembrances, I scarcely can recollect having
passed six weeks without seeing blood flow in civil strife.
It must not be thought, however, that our state was melancholy or
painful. To those who thought as little of human life as the persons
did by whom I was generally surrounded, this kind of existence was gay
and happy enough. When they saw a comrade sent to his long home, or a
friend fall dead by their side, a minute's mourning, and a vow to
revenge him, was all that the sight excited; and many a cheerful bowl,
and a gay jest, would circulate in the evening amongst the Cavaliers
who had lost, in the morning, the dearest acquaintances and oldest
companions.
Habit is a wonderful thing; and it would be difficult to make other
people comprehend how little emotion bloodshed or massacre produces in
the minds of men accustomed to be daily spectators of such scenes. It
is not at all surprising then, that a boy--born, as it were, and
brought up in the midst of them--should feel their awful nature less
than others, and should enter with more pleasure into the adventurous
excitement which they certainly afford. Such, at all events, was the
case with myself; and although I have learned, from after events, to
believe that my heart was neither naturally hard nor cruel, yet it is
scarcely possible to describe the joy and enthusiasm I experienced on
the approach of strife or battle, the triumph that I felt at the
overthrow or death of any remarkable foe, or the careless disregard
with which I viewed the slaughter of my countrymen, and the fall even
of those I personally knew. This military zeal was known and remarked
by all my father's comrades; and the amusement and gratification which
they derived from my early passion for that course of life, to which
they had given themselves up at a more mature age, caused me to be a
general favourite with every old soldier in the ranks of the
royalists; so that each one vied with the other in exciting me more
and more upon the very track which I was already too eager to pursue.
Amongst the Cavaliers I was generally known by the name of "Little
Ball-o'-Fire;" and I soon learned to be proud of that appellation, and
vexed when I was addressed by any other. In times of prosperity I was
loaded with presents and caresses; and in moments of defeat and danger
there was still some one to think of and protect Little Ball-o'-Fire,
the soldier's son. Nor were these good deeds entirely without requital
on my part; for, shrewd, active, and fearless, I was often enabled to
assist the defeated or pursued Cavalier, to mislead the
Parliamentarian by false information, or to gain intelligence of the
enemy's movements, and to guide my friends either to security or
victory.
Amongst all the comrades and connexions of my father, Goring,
afterwards Lord Norwich, was the foremost in his affections; and with
him also I was an infinite favourite, although there were several
others to whom I was personally more attached. I remember, however,
many instances of great favour received from him; and, as difficulties
multiplied round the royal cause, and as dangers threatened more and
more imminently the head of our sovereign, it was to the exertions and
friendship of Lord Goring that we were, more than once, indebted for
our existence. With him we served in many a campaign in Kent and
Sussex: with him have I aided my father to empty many a flagon when
the fight was over; and with him have we lain in concealment for weeks
together, when our paths were surrounded by enemies against whom our
force was too weak to contend.
At length, when I was little more than ten years old, and a momentary
gleam of success brightened the cause of the Cavaliers, my father
and Lord Goring unfortunately separated; and with a small but
well-appointed troop we hastened across the country with the intention
of joining the royal army, which was then marching towards Cornwall.
At Bolton-le-Moors, however, while we were marching gaily along,
without the slightest idea that there was an enemy in our
neighbourhood, we were suddenly surprised by a party of the
parliamentarian forces; and, after a rapid but desperate struggle,
every man of my father's troop was put to death. He himself fell
amongst the last, brought from his horse to the ground by a ball
through the neck. I was at the distance of about fifty yards from him,
and hastened up to give him aid; but just as I was running forward, I
saw one of the pikemen stoop over him, and, while my father held up
his hand, in the vain endeavour to ward off the blow, the man drove
his weapon through him, and pinned him to the ground. I had a large
horse-pistol in my hand, which was instantly directed to the pikeman's
head; and, had I but had time to discharge it, he would, most
assuredly, have lain beside the gallant officer he had just killed.
But, at that moment, one of his comrades struck me across the head,
with the staff of his pike, crying, "So much for thee, young viper!"
and brought me, stunned and powerless, to the ground.
Fortunate it was for me that the blow, without being sufficiently
violent to bereave me of life, had been severe enough to deprive me of
all sense or motion, for I was thus passed over as dead, and I found
afterwards that no one had been taken to mercy by the victors. It was
evening when we began a fight, which, in duration, did not last ten
minutes; but when I woke from the sort of sleep into which I had
fallen, I found the moon shining bright upon the moors, with my father
and five-and-twenty gallant soldiers lying dead around me. In truth,
this was the first event that ever made me think of death, even for a
moment, as of a thing to be feared, or regard strife as the great
destroyer of all dear affections and kindred ties. The sight was
horrible enough, to see the bodies of such a number of brave and
noble-hearted men now cold, inanimate, and most of them stripped of
every thing valuable, lying dead in the pale moonlight, with their
faces bearing all the various expressions which the human countenance
can assume under different modes of violent death; but it was the
sight of my father's corpse which brought it home to my own heart.
When I had recovered my senses completely--which was not for several
minutes after consciousness began to return--crept onward to the spot
where my father had fallen, which was not above ten paces from that on
which I had been lying; and as I gazed on his still, silent face, and
thought of all the affection towards myself which I had seen it bear
so often, I could not help feeling that death is indeed a horrible
thing. I looked at it long, till the moon began to go down, and I knew
not well what to do. I had no means of burying the body, and yet there
was a feeling in my bosom, not to be defined, which would not let me
leave the corpse of my father uninterred for the ravens to make it
their prey, or the dogs to mangle it.
Near the spot, however, there was a little copse, with some tall trees
rising out of the brushwood; and, after many a painful thought,
thither I retreated for shelter. As I knew not who might visit the
field from the town, and as I had heard that the people of the
neighbourhood were rank Roundheads, I thought it best to climb one of
the oaks; and there I watched till the dawn of morning. Hardly was the
sky grey with the first light when I saw six or seven people coming
over the Downs with spades and shovels, and I soon found that their
purpose was to bury the dead. By them that office was performed
decently enough on the spot itself; and in about three or four hours
it was all over, leaving no trace of the skirmish, but the turf beaten
up by the horses' feet, and here and there died with gore, and the
long low mound of fresh earth which covered the trench containing the
dead bodies. I found, by the conversation of the men employed, that
this act of charity had been performed by order of some persons in the
little town who had witnessed the affair; and who, partly moved by a
sense of decency, and partly with a view to salubrity, had caused the
corpses to be thus covered over with earth.
I was now, like many another, alone in all the earth; without friends,
or home, or resource; without money, or protection, or expectation;
but perhaps I was better fitted for such circumstances than any one
who was ever yet cast an orphan upon the world. I was accustomed to
rely upon myself alone; to take every event as I found it; and I had
been so long in the habit of seeing the sunshine and the shade, the
defeat and the triumph, the disaster and the success, succeed each
other like April clouds and beams, that though my heart was full of
mourning for my father, yet I confidently anticipated that the next
cast of the die in fortune's hand would reverse my fate, and bring me
back to prosperity again.
I was mistaken, however. A long series of sufferings ensued; and they
were sufferings of a nature that I had never encountered before. I had
often, indeed, undergone privation, and known poverty. I had often
been more than one day without tasting food, and had slept for many a
night together on the bare ground; but all these inconveniences were
part of the soldier's fate, matters which, however unpleasant at the
time, were laughed at and forgotten as soon as they were over. Now,
however, I had to endure poverty without one alleviating circumstance,
or one consoling reflection.
All that I had on earth, at the moment my father was slain, consisted
of two crown pieces, which had been given me by Lord Goring when we
parted; but when I came to seek for them, after recovering my senses,
I found that they had not escaped the researches of the plunderers who
had stripped the dead around me. My clothes, indeed, probably being of
little value either in point of size or quality, had been left me; and
these, with a pistol and a dagger, which I found upon the ground,
constituted my whole property, when at length I left the earth that
contained the body of my unfortunate parent, and went forth again into
the world.
It would be difficult to give any detailed account of the life I now
led. I wandered over almost every part of England, seeking a
precarious subsistence by every means that my habits and education
permitted. Often I fell in with old comrades of my father; and then I
was sure of protection and assistance as long as they had the means of
affording it. Often I joined myself to a troop of Cavaliers, and for a
few days lived the life to which I had been accustomed in former
years. But the power of the Parliament was daily increasing, that of
the King daily going down; and, one by one, every force to which I
joined myself was dispersed, and I was again obliged to seek my way
alone. I never, however, yielded for one moment to despair; and at
times,--when I have shared in the stores provided by nature for the
birds in the air, when my sole food has been haws and whortle-berries,
roots and acorns,--I have hummed to myself
"There's a better time coming!"
and gone on with a light heart to seek a richer meal for the next day.
Although to plunder or to kill a Roundhead in any way that chance
happened to present, was, in my mind, at that time, neither sin nor
shame, yet I cannot remember ever having done what I should even now
consider an evil act on my own account. Nevertheless, I must
acknowledge, that, when a wounded or a fugitive companion wanted food
or other necessaries, and could not obtain them for himself, I have
often ventured beyond any code of morality that I know of, and have
gone down to spoil the Philistines with indescribable glee.
Well known to every leader in the royal cause, and almost to every
soldier, I was often employed as a guide, and still more frequently as
a messenger. In the latter capacity, indeed, I was generally
successful, even where others would probably have failed; and when
Langdale rose in Wales he intrusted his design to me, for the
purpose of having it clearly communicated to Musgrave in the north,
and to the Cavaliers in Kent. I received no written document, indeed,
although my youth and my knowledge of the country enabled me, in
general, to pass unmolested: but Langdale knew that he could trust to
my never-failing memory to repeat every word as he had spoken it; and
was also aware that the other royalists would trust to my report.
This commission I executed with ease and safety, as far as my journey
to the north went; but in making my way towards Kent, I encountered
more difficulties and some dangers. The small stock of money with
which I had been furnished failed me before the object was
accomplished; and at Reading I was recognised by a Puritan whom I had
once, about six months before, tripped up into a river, while I ran
off with a fat baked pig, which he was carrying out of the town from
the baker's oven. Of the pig my share had been small, having performed
the feat in favour of three old comrades who were lying concealed in
the neighbouring fields, and were half dying of hunger: but, in the
present case, the Roundhead made no nice distinctions; and as soon as
he set eyes upon me, caught me by the throat, conveyed me to the town
prison, notwithstanding my most vigorous resistance, and left me in
the hands of a gaoler, whose tokens of affection remained upon my skin
for several weeks afterwards. Not at all admiring my fare or treatment
in the prison, and having also acquired a strong distaste to remaining
long in any one place, the very first opportunity afforded by open
doors I made my escape,--not unpursued, it is true; but that mattered
little; for at that time it was only necessary to give me the free use
of my limbs, and a start of ten paces, and the man would have been
swift and strong indeed that could have overtaken me.
Several other adventures also befel me: but at length I made my way
into Kent; and here, to my unspeakable joy, I found myself amongst a
royalist population, and saw in every part of the county preparations
for a great effort in favour of the King. I heard, in every quarter,
too, that Lord Goring was to take the command of the forces; and, sure
of receiving protection and assistance, I made my way forward to join
him, with a feeling in my heart that a change was about to come over
my fate. T was half starved by this time, and was all in rags; but
many a better Cavalier than myself was in the same state, and I did
not fear that my father's old friend would deny me.
Before I could reach the army, however, the royalist force had
advanced towards London, and were again in retreat; and when I arrived
in Maidstone, I found the Cavaliers pouring in, and learned that the
enemy were following fast upon their steps. During the whole of that
evening I could not find Lord Goring, (who, by the way, had, before
this, become Earl of Norwich,) but I met with many an old acquaintance
amongst the officers, and every kindness was shown to the son of
Captain Hall. As an attack was expected early the next morning, the
troops were under arms before dawn; and as the Earl was riding along
the line, I ran up to the side of his horse, and spoke to him. For a
moment, in the rags that now covered me, he did not recognise his
friend's child, and replied, sharply, "Get along, boy! get along! I
cannot speak to thee now!"
It was the first rebuff I had ever received from a Cavalier, and I
thought that my heart would have broke; but I still clung to his
stirrup, and said, "What, my Lord, have you forgot Little
Ball-o'-Fire?" At that name he drew in his rein short, gazed upon my
face for a moment, and then stooping down over his saddle bow, he
caught me in his arms, and lifted me quite up to his bosom. "Forget
thee! no, my boy! no!" he cried; "and now I have found thee again,
thou shalt never quit me, for thy good father's sake."
There was little time given for farther conversation. The enemy had
been more on the alert than we expected, and were, by this time,
rapidly advancing, and the shot of their artillery began to tell upon
our line. Every one has heard of the gallant defence of Maidstone: but
it soon became clear that we could not maintain the position in which
we were first attacked; and Lord Goring, who had laid out his plan the
night before, ordered a slow and firm retreat to the ground he had
fixed upon, at the back of the town. Before he left the green,
however, he beckoned me up, and gave me a scrap of paper, on which he
had written something hastily. "Get thee behind that house,
Ball-o'-Fire," he said, "and wait there till you see a young gentleman
come up with a troop of Cavaliers. Ask if he be Colonel Masterton: give
him that paper, and then guide him down by the back of the town to the
hollow way, by which the enemy must advance: take him to any point he
can best cut his way through, and bring him to me, on the edge of yon
hill."
I did as I was bid; and Lord Goring himself remained for about ten
minutes longer with the Kentish horse, keeping the green firmly
against the enemy, while the other regiments filed off, and took up
their position on the slope beyond. At length, he too retreated; and I
hid myself while the enemy passed over the same ground. Scarcely was
the green clear, when up at the full gallop came a young gentleman,
seemingly scarcely twenty, with as gallant a regiment of horse as ever
I saw. He halted his men before "The Bush" ale-house, and then rode on
a few yards to see what was passing in the hollow way and on the
slope.
His countenance was a pleasant one, at least to me; with a broad open
brow, and quick fine eyes; and although I saw by the manner in which
he looked at some dead and wounded soldiers who were scattered here
and there, that he was not so habituated to scenes of death and
conflict as myself, yet I could not help thinking that he must be the
Colonel Masterton to whom I was ordered to address myself. I watched
him for a minute, as his keen rapid glance ran over the confused
spectacle that was passing beyond the town; and as I saw him turn his
horse, and ride back towards his men, I ran up and spoke to him. At
first he did not distinctly hear what I said, but he bent down his
head towards me with a good-humoured smile, and I again repeated the
words "Colonel Masterton."
"Well, my little man," he replied, with a look of surprise, "what is
it?"
I saw at once, from his tone and his look, that I was right, and I
gave him the billet from Lord Norwich. He read it attentively; and
then asked "Can you lead me by some bypath to the left of the enemy's
line?" I answered that I could; and, without more ado, set off before
him, and conducted him by the back streets to a point where a lime
road led out into the country.
The moment that his eye gained a clear sight of the enemy, I observed
it mark every part of their position, rest fixed on one particular
spot for an instant longer than anywhere else; and I saw that God had
made him a soldier. His plan was evidently formed; his orders were
short, clear, and accurate; and, drawing out his regiment from the
town, he charged a large body of cavalry, who, together with some
pieces of artillery, lay upon the extreme left of the enemy's line,
and in a moment drove them to the devil.
I ran on as hard as I could to see what was going forward, and, just
as I came up, I found the Roundhead horse forced back into the lines
of the pikemen; and, one of the first faces that I beheld, amongst the
Parliamentarian foot, was that of the man who had killed my father. I
never forget faces, and his I was not likely to forget. The fellow was
pike in hand, in front of the young Cavalier; and I had just time to
mark him so as not to be mistaken, when Colonel Masterton's horse
passed the pike, and at one blow of the rider's sword the Roundhead
went down never to rise again.
The battle was like all other battles; but by one means or another I
contrived to keep near Colonel Masterton's regiment through the whole
affair, till just when they were in some difficulty I offered to guide
them up the lime road to Lord Goring, if one of the men would take me
behind him on his horse. The young gentleman seemed surprised to find
me so near him; and after another charge upon a body of London
troopers we made our way forward, and reached the brow of the hill
where the Commander-in-chief then stood.
The event of that day every one knows. The enemy were repulsed at all
points, but it could hardly be considered as a battle won, for we were
ultimately obliged to retreat. After a long, severe march, we halted
for the night, and I remained quartered with Colonel Masterton and his
regiment, and was treated with the greatest kindness both by officers
and men. It was soon found that the army, being chiefly composed of
raw and ill-disciplined troops, could not be held together; and the
same night Colonel Masterton was ordered to lead his regiment towards
the right of the enemy's line of advance, and, if possible, to effect
a diversion, while Lord Goring, with whatever veteran troops could be
collected, endeavoured to cross the country, and throw himself into
Colchester. After having attacked an outpost, against which he was
particularly directed, the young officer was ordered to disband a foot
regiment which was joined to his cavalry force; and then--making the
best of his way back to Devonshire, whence he had come--to disperse
his men, and keep quiet till better times. As his family, from
particular circumstances, although attached to the royal cause, had
not called upon themselves the indignation of the Parliament, in near
so high a degree as it had been excited against Lord Goring, that
nobleman, on giving me to Colonel Masterton as a guide, made him
promise that he would always protect and never abandon me; and well
did he keep his word.
CHAPTERS II. III. IV. V. VI.*
* * * * *
------------
[Footnote 1: The above chapters are omitted by the editor of this
work, inasmuch as every fact contained in them is to be found much
more fully detailed in the "Memoirs of Henry Masterton, Lord
Masterton;" and it may be only necessary to add, for the information
of such persons as are unfortunate enough not to have read that work,
that Lord Masterton was accompanied through all the adventures therein
described by John Marston Hall, the writer of the present book.
Farther, it may not be impertinent to observe, that, as Lord Masterton
himself states, the subject of the present memoirs was of infinite
service and assistance to his noble friend in the difficulties and
dangers which he had to encounter; and we have every reason to
believe, that had it not been for the promptitude and assistance of
"Little Ball-o'-Fire," as he is generally called in that work, the
history of the noble lord would not have been brought to so happy a
conclusion. In the chapters here omitted, the writer details all the
scenes that took place in England, and all those that followed in
France, up to the period when his Lord Masterton was happily wedded to
the Lady Emily Langleigh, and took up his abode with her father at the
beautiful little château of St. Maur. At that point we shall again
commence the adventures of John Marston Hall, as written by himself,
and proceed, even to their conclusion, with no other alteration
whatever, than a slight modification of the orthography, which does
not particularly well suit the fashion of the present day, and the
occasional translation of various passages originally written in the
French tongue.]
------------
CHAPTER VII.
When all these affairs were settled, and my young Lord Masterton and
fair lady were looking as pleased as heart could wish, going about
with each other from morning till night, and seeming perfectly
contented in every respect, the house began to grow tedious enough;
for though, perhaps, in the wide range of human enjoyments there is no
greater pleasure than that of contributing to render other people
happy, there are few things more tiresome than looking on after the
work is complete. I loved Lord Masterton, it is true, as sincerely as
it was possible; for dangers encountered with him, and services both
rendered to him and received from him, had of course made him very
dear to me. I loved Lady Emily, too, just enough less dearly than I
did my lord to make my affection distant and respectful; and they both
loved me, very much, from the same motives that I loved them.
Nevertheless, I acknowledge again that the time hung very heavy upon
my hands; and after the first week of the honeymoon, with all its
bustle and its gaiety was over, I began to long for something new.
I have no doubt that Lord Masterton, who was keen enough in perceiving
other people's feelings, had no difficulty in understanding that the
happiness of himself and his wife was too quiet and tranquil in its
nature to be very amusing to other people; and knowing perfectly that
I was of a disposition to which activity, either mental or corporeal,
was absolutely necessary, he took no small pains, as soon as he could
think of anything besides his bride, to give me full occupation, in
supplying, what he called, the defects in my education. I was taught
French thoroughly, which, to say truth, has been of great use to me;
but, at the same time, I was filled with a great deal more Latin than
I ever knew what to do with; and an attempt was made to cram me with
Greek, which I resisted with all the repugnance of a child for an
emetic. Still Lord Masterton, thinking himself bound to act the part
of an elder brother to the orphan boy he had taken under his
protection, persevered in the attempt, and several other branches of
science were added to my daily routine of instruction; but I need
hardly tell the reader, that this sort of occupation was the least
palatable that it is possible to conceive in the estimation of a boy
brought up as I had been.
I believe, and indeed, am sure, that my good young lord saw how
distasteful the whole was to me; for I have often remarked, when he
casually entered my place of study, that a slight smile would play
upon his lip, as he noticed any of the fretful and impatient movements
with which I accompanied my lessons. He persevered for nearly nine
months, however, thinking it absolutely necessary, I imagine, both to
give me such instructions, and to tame, in some degree, my wild and
restless spirit. For my part I was too grateful for all that he had
done for me, too sensible of the kindness of his motives, and too well
aware of the superiority of his mind, to complain aloud of anything
that he might think beneficial for me to do. Repine, I did, in secret,
and that most heartily; but nevertheless, as I was quick and active in
mind as well as body, and applied myself diligently to learn while I
was about it, I probably gained more in the same space of time than
many other people would have done. At length, one day, to my surprise,
my usual masters did not appear from Paris, and I received directions
from my lord to prepare to accompany him on a long ride.
This was all very pleasant to me, especially as it seemed to augur
something new; and no language that ever yet I heard is adequate to
describe the sort of thirst for some novelty--some change in my
situation--which then consumed me. Gladly did I get myself ready,
gladly did I mount my horse; and, riding forward with Lord Masterton
alone, while the grooms remained at a good distance behind, I gave way
to all the wild gladness of my heart.
Lord Masterton suffered the first burst of joy to have its full
course, and smiled as he remarked it; but in a few minutes he assumed
a more serious tone, saying, "Come come, Little Ball-o'-Fire, let us
ride on calmly, and converse like rational people, for I have
something serious to say to you."
In a moment I was all attention, and he proceeded:--
"I was in hopes," he said, "to have kept you with me yet for several
years--till such time, indeed, as young men usually set forth in the
world; and even then only to have parted with you in order to have
placed you in some station where you might win honour, and make your
way to fame. For such a purpose, however, it was necessary that all
those points which circumstances had caused your father to neglect in
your education should be supplied here, and I consequently have
endeavoured to obtain for you every sort of instruction which this
country can afford."
"Indeed, my lord," I cried, as he paused for a moment, "I am not of
the wood of which men make a scholar, and I am afraid, if my getting
on in the world is ever to depend upon my learning, that I shall drop
by the wayside from pure weariness."
"I have come to the same conclusion too," he answered, in a tone which
expressed some degree of mortification, but not a touch of anger,--"I
have come to the same conclusion too; for you must not suppose that I
have been blind to your impatience. I had hoped, indeed, that it would
wear away, though Lord Langleigh assured me that it would not; but now
having given you a trial, having added something to your stock of
knowledge, and having found that your distaste to study increased
rather than diminished, I have determined to abandon the attempt, and
to let you follow out that way of life for which nature seems to have
formed you, and in which Fortune herself had placed you."
Never did such joyful words ring in my ears before; and had we not
been on horseback, I should have thrown myself at his feet to pour
forth the gratitude that swelled in my heart. Words, however, were not
wanting; and although I never made use of more than served my purpose,
yet I contrived to make him understand how very happy he had made me.
"Well, well," he replied, "all I can wish is to advance your
interests; but you are of course aware, that such a change of
prospects implies that you must leave me."
Although I had thought the matter over a thousand times, and pictured
to myself all I should like to do, yet I had certainly never
contemplated the necessity of quitting a friend and protector that I
loved, as a part of the scheme; and when he placed it thus plainly
before me the tears rose in my eyes.
"Such, nevertheless, must be the case," he continued; "for, of course,
to pass your time in idleness here would be as disagreeable to you as
to pass it in dry study."
"But cannot you go to the wars," I cried, "and let me go with you?"
Lord Masterton smiled.--"I am afraid," he replied, "that I cannot
mingle in the scenes of civil strife that are going on here, solely to
find occupation for your active spirit. No, no, my good boy, Lord
Langleigh and myself agree in thinking, that foreigners, casting
themselves upon the protection and hospitality of a nation like this,
should take no part in the factious intrigues that agitate the
country; and we have determined to remain as quiet as possible till
they are all over, which we both hope and believe will be the case ere
many years be past; for the most turbulent cannot long remain blind to
the dreadful evils which such a state of distrust, uncertainty, and
apprehension inflicts upon every class in the community. But to return
to our subject: it becomes us now to think of how we can place you to
the best advantage. You are too young, of course, to serve in any of
the regiments at present in activity, and if we place you as page to
any one else, it must solely be with a view to your military promotion
hereafter. A gentleman who was here the other day, with our good
friend Monsieur de Vitray, was pleased with your history, and
expressed a desire for just such a boy as you, to bring up in his own
steps, which have ever been foremost in the field of battle."
"Who, who was that?" I cried, eagerly. "I saw them all. Was it the
dark man with the heavy hanging brow? I do not like him."
"No, no," he answered. "It was Monsieur de Villardin, who sat at table
on Lord Langleigh's left, with dark hair, just mingled with grey, and
a scar across his forehead."
"I like him," I replied, "I like him!" and Lord Masterton went
on.--"Well," he said, "he luckily liked you and your character; and
after a long consultation with myself upon the subject, and the
fullest consideration of your interests and your happiness, Lord
Langleigh is now gone to speak with Monsieur de Villardin on your
account, and to see whether he is willing to receive you in the
capacity which we wish you to fill. Although the usages of this
country would render it in no degree degrading for the son of the
first nobleman in the land to become the page of the Duc de Villardin,
yet we wish you, as it were, in quitting me, to gain a step in life.
Lord Langleigh, therefore, will tell him that if he will receive you
as superior to his common pages, and promise to obtain for you a
commission in the service of the state, when you reach the usual age,
we are willing to place you under his care. At the same time, to
enable you always to maintain the station which we wish you to take,
we have determined to grant you a pension of a thousand crowns per
annum, chargeable upon a farm of Lord Langleigh's in Normandy. You
will thus be independent of any one, for the deed of gift shall be
drawn out, giving you that revenue irrevocably."
The confused whirl of joyful ideas that took place in my brain at
these tidings, would be difficult to express. The idea of seeing the
_world_, and mingling in scenes of warlike activity once more, was all
joy; and if there had been anything which could have given me a
moment's uneasiness in the prospect of going forth again into that
world alone, it was the chance of being reduced to the state of
poverty and destitution which I had suffered for one whole year. I do
not mean to say that I did fear it, for I was not of a character to
fear any of earth's evils, or even to take them into consideration in
my lookings forward towards the future; but the memory of some pains
and some degradations which I had suffered did certainly cross my mind
for a single moment, though without any power to affect my hopes or
purposes. By the liberality, however, of my kind protectors, all such
apprehensions were entirely removed. I had now always a resource, and
that resource greater in amount than the pecuniary means of many a
nobleman's son. Sorry I am to say, that for the time these joyful
feelings, and all the gay dreams to which they gave rise, very nearly
wiped away the grief I had felt at the prospect of quitting Lord
Masterton; and although I was deeply grateful, and expressed my
gratitude for the new proofs of his generous kindness which he had
just given me, I could not help, as we rode home, raving upon all the
bright anticipations which I entertained in regard to the future.
He smiled at my delight; and though perhaps another man might have
been offended at the little regret I expressed at leaving him, he had
himself known what the spirit of adventure was too well not to make
full allowance for the passionate desire of novelty that I felt, and
for the restless love of change which habit had, in my case, rendered
second nature.
To hear the success of Lord Langleigh's mission was now my thirst. But
he did not return for several hours, and I was obliged to bridle my
impatience the best way I could. When he did appear, however, his
countenance, which was a very expressive one, showed me at once that
he was well pleased with the event of his errand. Nevertheless, he
said nothing to me on the subject; and as Lord Masterton was out of
the way, I was still compelled to digest my curiosity till the next
morning. Before breakfast, however, I observed them in close
conference for some time; and Lord Langleigh, whose custom it was
never to talk upon any subject of importance sitting still, called me
to him as he rose from the breakfast-table, and in a walk through the
park informed me, with his usual prompt but somewhat sparkling manner,
that the Duc de Villardin had very willingly agreed to all that he
proposed.
"You are not to think," he added, "from his readiness to take you,
urchin,"--the name by which he always called me,--"that you are any
great acquisition, after all. Nevertheless, you are a good,
quick-handed boy; and if you go on as you have begun, you are in a
fair way to get yourself hanged, shot, or made a field-marshal of. My
son-in-law tells me, what indeed I very well knew without his telling,
that your heart is all on fire for activity and new scenes. Now, with
Monsieur de Villardin, it is probable that you will have as much as
you could well desire; for he is one of those men who let no moment
fly by them unmarked by some deed or some event. He is in the midst of
all the Parisian factions, too; and, if one-half of the rumours of the
day be true, they will soon bring down Spanish cunning to aid French
intrigue, and make a mess of it fit for the palate of the devil
himself. So, now you will be in your right element, urchin, and I will
only give you one piece of advice before you go. Never let your zeal
for any one's service make you act ill, even to his greatest enemy."
I felt myself turn as red as fire, for, to say the truth, the good old
lord had touched upon a tender point; and, though I was young enough
to think of such matters lightly, yet, during the nine months which I
had lately passed in a much more contemplative manner than pleased me,
a suspicion would now and then come across my mind, that one or two
things in my past life might as well have been left undone. Lord
Langleigh observed me colour, and adding, with a nod, "It is worth
your thinking of," he left me, and returned to the house. I did think
of his advice long and eagerly; and his words sunk down into my heart,
producing therein the first of many changes which I shall yet have to
notice in my principles and conduct, as in passing through life I
every now and then gained a lesson or an admonition, which taught me
my own weaknesses, or restrained my wild passions. It was in vain, I
soon felt, to look back and regret the past; but from that moment I
formed my determination for the future, and tried never to forget,
that no cause could ever justify an evil action.
All after arrangements were soon concluded. My dress was already more
splendid than was at all necessary. My purse was well furnished by the
liberality of my kind benefactors; and a pass having been procured for
me to enter Paris, I took leave of the family at St. Maur three days
after the conversation I have just detailed, and was delivered over
into the hands of Monsieur de Villardin himself by the chief _écuyer_
of Lord Langleigh, who accompanied me into Paris.
My new lord received me very graciously, and promised me great things
if I attached myself to him as zealously as I had done to Lord
Masterton. His countenance, I have already said, had pleased me from
the first; and it certainly was one well calculated to command both
respect and regard. Nevertheless, as I came to know him better, I
remarked occasionally two expressions which I had not at first
observed, but which were strongly indicative of his real character,
or, rather, of his faults. The first was a quick, sharp, inquiring,
perhaps fierce expression, when anything was said in an under tone by
the persons around him. This, however, passed away in a minute; but
the second, which consisted in a tremendous gathering together of the
brows when any one seriously offended him, would last for some hours,
and it was evidently with difficulty that he could reassume his usual
gay and cheerful manner, through the whole of the rest of the day.
I had early learned to watch people's countenances as the
weather-glasses of their minds, and thence to judge, not only of what
was passing within at the moment, but also of their habitual feelings
and inherent disposition. This had been taught me by my father, who
had established his criterions for judging by long experience; and I
had not seen the fierce, sharp look, and the deep, heavy scowl, upon
the face of the Duke more than twice, when I established it in my own
mind, as a fact beyond doubt, that he was both suspicious and
revengeful. At the same time I discovered, by other circumstances,
that he was highly sensitive to ridicule; and that, knowing well to
how many jests he would expose himself if he suffered his irritable
jealousy to appear, he laboured strenuously to cover it by the same
light and witty manner of treating everything, which in that day was
universally affected by all Frenchmen. In this he was not particularly
successful; for, though his mind was quick and brilliant enough, his
heart was too full of deep and powerful feelings to harmonise well
with that playful badinage which alone affects the surface.
So much for my new master; but there are other members of his family
who yet remain to be noticed. The first of these, of course, is Madame
la Duchesse, to whom he led me immediately after I had been presented
to himself, and introduced me as his new page, of whom she had heard
so much. She was a very lovely woman, and at heart a most amiable one;
considerably younger than her husband, perhaps about four-and-twenty
years of age; and though, I believe, it would be doing Diana herself
no injustice to compare her to Madame de Villardin in point of
chastity, yet at the time I was first presented to her, ere sorrow or
domestic discomfort had tamed the light heart and banished the
vanities of youth, she had decidedly that love of admiration which has
often, in this world, done more harm to a woman's character than
half-a-dozen _faux pas_. It mattered not with whom she was in
company--rank, station, age, made no difference--admired she was
determined to be by every one who came within the sphere of her
influence: a thousand little airs would she assume to excite
attention; and bright and sparkling was the triumph which lighted up
her eyes when she had succeeded in captivating or attracting. In the
case of myself even, a boy of twelve years old, she could not resist
the desire of displaying the same graces which she spread out before
others; and when her husband brought me forward to her, the smile that
played around her lips, the flash that glistened from her fine eyes,
and the elegant attitude with which she held me by the arm, and gazed
for a moment in my face, were all a little more than natural, and
very, very different from the calm, sweet manners of the beautiful
Emily Langleigh.
Besides herself, I found in the saloon where she was sitting her only
child, a fine lively girl of little more than six years old, who
afterwards became my frequent playfellow. Having introduced me to his
lady, and told her several particulars of my history, adding no small
commendations thereunto on my own behaviour, the Duke summoned his
major-domo, to whose hands he consigned me, bidding him make me
familiar with the house, and all that it contained. The old man, who
had been in the family of De Villardin from infancy, took me by the
hand kindly enough, and led me away to his own apartment, which
consisted of two small, neat chambers, on the lower story, looking out
into the court. Excellent old Jerome Laborde, for such was the name of
the major-domo, took care, as we went along, to give me many a
consolatory assurance of my being well taken care of, and rendered
very happy, in the mansion of his master, conceiving me to be one of
those young and inexperienced boys who are generally preferred to the
place of page in a nobleman's house at a tender age, and who,
commencing with timidity and innocence, generally end in impudence and
intrigue. His compassion was also moved towards me from the
misfortune, as he thought it, of my being an Englishman. But by this
time I had learned to speak French almost as fluently as my native
tongue; and, before I had been half an hour with the old major-domo, I
had convinced him thoroughly that I was a person to make myself very
much at home anywhere, and in any circumstances. His ideas of a page,
however, did not permit him to imagine that, as I had not the bashful
fears of the earlier stages of pagehood, I could have anything better
in my character than the pert sauciness of its latter epoch; and,
having conceived this bad opinion of me, the good old man very soon
civilly told me, that he would lead me to the pages' room, where I
would find three others, as gay and bold as myself. But before I
proceed to this new theatre on which my young abilities were destined
to display themselves, let me add that, ere many days had passed, I
found means to convince worthy Jerome Laborde that the circumstances
of my former life had rendered me a very different creature from any
he had yet met with in all his long experience of pages. The injustice
that he found he had done me, added to the favourable impression he
afterwards received, gained me a place in his good will, which I did
not lose till his death.
A scene, however, was yet to take place which was to signalise my
entrance into the house of Monsieur de Villardin, and to place me, by
my own exertions, in that station in his family which Lord Langleigh
had previously stipulated that I should enjoy. On entering the pages'
room, as it was called, I found, indeed, three boys as gay and bold as
myself, full of saucy conceit and pert jocularity. They were all older
than I was, and one seemed little less than fifteen years of age. No
sooner was I left there by the major-domo, than, of course, I became
the subject of their raillery, and for some time submitted to afford
them matter for amusement. Their first employment was, naturally, the
examination of my dress, which I could see, by a frequent shrug of the
shoulders, and the words _mauvais goût_, did not particularly please
these juvenile _petit-maîtres_. Going from that, however, to other
matters, they carried their jocularity so far, that I soon found it
would be necessary to exert one or two of the qualities which I had
acquired in a harder school than any to which they had ever been
subjected, in order to put them in that place which I intended them to
occupy during the rest of my stay in the family. I consequently took
advantage of the first insolent word spoken by the eldest--who
appeared to have a right prescriptive to tyrannise--and, having
drubbed him more heartily than ever he was drubbed before, I proceeded
to reduce the two others to a complete state of discipline and
subordination.
It may easily be supposed that all this was not effected without
considerable noise; for though we were all small enough to have lain
quiet in any house, my three companions were very vociferous. Just as
I was putting what may be called the finishing stroke to the affair,
by once more knocking down the eldest, who--on finding that his two
fellow-pages, notwithstanding all they had suffered from him in former
times, were now willing to espouse his cause against the new comer,
had roused himself again to the combat--I perceived that the door of
the apartment was ajar, and that the face of Monsieur de Villardin
(with two or three _écuyers_ behind) was gazing in upon the conflict.
This discovery, however, did not prevent my giving full force to my
blow, and my antagonist measured his length upon the floor at his
master's feet.
"Very well struck for a _coup d'essai_" cried the Duke, walking in;
"every fresh dog must of course fight his way through the pack; but
now, young gentlemen, as your new comrade seems to have satisfied you
pretty well that his must be the first station amongst you, by right
of superior strength and activity, I also tell you that it is by my
will, Gaspard," he continued, turning to his eldest page, "you are but
a boy, and not fit to cope with one who has slain men. So submit with
a good grace, and give him your hand."
The boy, who had by this time risen from the floor, obeyed; but, as he
did so, he eyed me from under his bent brows with a look that was
sufficient warning that I had gained an enemy. This was an acquisition
not particularly disagreeable to me; for, to tell the truth, I had at
that time been so much more accustomed to deal with enemies than
friends, that I hardly felt in my element without them; and, indeed,
as I looked upon man's natural position to be a state of warfare, I
was always prepared to bear my share in it with good will. These
opinions, it is true, changed greatly afterwards; but how the
alteration was brought about is to be found in the history of my after
life.
The mortification of Gaspard de Belleville, which was the name of my
chief opponent, was rendered complete by the Duke selecting me as the
companion of his ride to the _palais_, where the Parliament was then
sitting. But I must speak of the events which occurred to me in Paris
by themselves; nor, indeed, should I have mentioned the childish
squabble which took place between me and the other pages, had it not
been necessary to explain the origin of a good solid hatred which
Gaspard de Belleville conceived towards me, and which lasted,
undiminished, through life, rendering his own days miserable, and
having quite sufficient effect upon my fate to show me that we should
never make an enemy when we can make a friend.
CHAPTER VIII.
The city of Paris, and the country in general, were then in a pitiable
state, owing to every party in the land combining, in the strongest
degree that it is possible to imagine, the qualities of knave and
fool. The Parliament was playing the fool in Paris, and yet
sacrificing the country to the nicest calculations of its own
interest. The party of the Duke of Bouillon was playing the fool, and
letting slip every opportunity of effecting its own objects, while it
was calling a foreign power into the heart of its native country to
obtain them. The people were playing the fool in suffering themselves
to be led by an ass, the Duke de Beaufort, and by a knave, the
Cardinal de Retz, while, at the same time, they took care to enrich
themselves by the plunder of the stores and magazines; and last, not
least, the Court was playing the fool at St. Germain, treating weakly
where it might have acted vigorously, and yet cheating all the other
parties with the most consummate art.
The situation of France at the time I entered Paris was, in a few
words, as follows:--Louis XIV. was then a mere boy, under the regency
of his mother, who, in turn, was under the government of Cardinal
Mazarin; and these three personages, together with the Prince of
Condé, and a large body of nobility, were then at St. Germain-en-laye,
shut out of the city of Paris, which they were besieging without a
sufficient body of troops to take even one of the gates. The
Parliament, which had begun the war, and the people who had seconded
it, remained in the capital, hating Mazarin, and laughing at the
Court; but heartily sick of a war which prevented the butter and cream
from the country reaching Paris in safety; while a party of clever men
and immense rogues, consisting of a number of general officers, with
the Dukes of Bouillon, Elbeuf, Beaufort, the Prince de Conti, and the
Archbishop de Retz, laboured night and day to keep both people and
Parliament in a state of agitation and excitement, in order that each
of these worthy and notable leaders might wring from the weakness of a
regency every sort of gift, honour, and emolument. For this purpose,
open war had been declared against the Court, while, as usual, the
King's name was used, and the King's standard displayed on both sides.
All the people in the realm seemed mad, and a strange spirit of
contradicting their own established characters appeared to have seized
upon every one. Acknowledged cowards led armies and rushed into
battle, the most faithful turned traitors, the most honest became
knaves, the firm were in a continual state of vacillation, the wise
showed themselves fools, and the brave ran away. However, as it became
evident to the Parisian generals that the Parliament was inclined to
separate from the people, and make peace with the Court for itself,
before the concessions were granted which they, the generals, demanded
for themselves, they determined to do their best, by means of the
people within the city and of armies without, to compel the Parliament
to be honest to them and dishonest to the Court. Negotiations were
immediately opened with the Spanish government of the Low Countries,
Spanish ambassadors were received in Paris, the Archduke began his
march into France, Turenne, himself, with the common madness of the
day, raised the standard of rebellion against his king in aid of his
brother the Duke of Bouillon, and the Duc de Longueville promised to
advance also with his forces from Rouen to support the Parisians in
their struggle.
Such was the situation of things externally when I entered the
capital, and became attached to one of the party of general officers.
At the same time, it is to be remarked, that deputies from the
Parliament were treating for peace at Ruel; and though the date of
their powers had expired, they were still continuing their
negotiations. A report even was current that they had concluded a
treaty with Mazarin; and as I had passed through the town on my way to
the house of Monsieur de Villardin, I had found the people collected
in large bodies, shouting, "Down with Mazarin! down with the
Parliament!"
By the time that we issued forth into the streets to take our way to
the building where the great judicial body was assembled, the rumour
had become still more general, and the crowds, of course, were
increased. Nothing was heard but cries and shouts, and what were then
called Mazarinades. Poniards, muskets, pikes, and swords were in all
hands; and so very indiscriminate was the use which the people seemed
inclined to make of their weapons, that it was only by constantly
joining in their shout of "Down with Mazarin!" that we made our way
through them in safety. The numbers in the neighbourhood of the
_palais_ were still more immense and vociferous; and even the crowd of
guards who were keeping the court and the doors of the building seemed
not a whit less infuriated than the people. At the same time persons
were seen continually coming out from the Parliament, and haranguing
the multitude; and those also who went in seldom failed to treat them
to a taste of their eloquence ere they entered the gates; the state of
insanity to which all this oratory raised the populace may easily be
imagined; and at one time I heard a man exclaim from amongst the
crowd, that they should hang the deputies over the gates; while one of
the town-guard added, that if Monsieur de Villardin, who was just
going in, would return and point out to them who were really the
_Mazarins_ in the Parliament itself, they would drag them out, and
poniard them in the court.
Upon this, the Duke, of course, favoured them with an oration also,
and a curious piece of composition it was; consisting of a series of
pleasantries upon the Parliament, upon Mazarin, upon himself, upon the
Court, and upon everything, mingled with a few apophthegms upon
policy, religion, and morals, which all tended to captivate the
people, and make them think him wondrous wise, without tending in the
least to calm them, or reduce them to order and decency. Now Monsieur
de Villardin was not only a polished speaker, and, where his own
passions were not concerned, a close reasoner, but he was also really
a patriotic, generous, disinterested man; and the fact of his speaking
for half an hour, as he did on the present occasion, a tissue of
high-sounding, disjointed nonsense, which could only serve to inflame
still farther the minds of a mad and excited populace, can only be
accounted for upon the grounds of the general insanity which seemed at
that time to have seized upon all ranks and classes.
This oration being finished, we entered the Parliament House; and, by
the special favour of one of the door-keepers, my new lord was
permitted to take me with him into the interior of the building,
perhaps anticipating one of those scenes in which the prompt hand and
ready perception that had been my principal recommendation in his
eyes, might be serviceable to him in more ways than one. We took our
way by the great staircase in the right wing, and soon found ourselves
in what is called the _Salle des pas perdus_, which was full of people
of all sorts and descriptions; guards, doorkeepers, and officers of
the _palais_; counsellors, statesmen, members of the different
chambers, and the mixed crowd of attendants belonging to all those who
were thronging to the Parliament on the present momentous occasion.
Passing onward, through the small refreshment rooms called _Les
Buvettes_, where no obstacle was presented to my following my master,
we were soon in the midst of the hall in which the Parliament were
assembled; and such a scene of disgraceful confusion has seldom,
perhaps, been witnessed. Half-a-dozen people were upon their feet
haranguing at once; and several minutes elapsed before anything could
be heard except a confused gabble of tongues, which might have done
honour to the top of the tower of Babel.
At length, the Duke d'Elbeuf, whom I had seen before, and who seemed
to have the longest breath, the loudest voice, and the most determined
pertinacity of the party, obtained the ascendancy; and one by one
sitting down, he was left speaking alone.
"Now, Sir President," he continued, turning to a man of dignified
appearance, who, habited as a high law officer, occupied one of the
principal places of the assembly,--"now, Sir President, since I can
make myself heard, I demand distinctly whether you or any of your
fellow-deputies have, at your conference with Mazarin and the Court,
made any provision whatever for the security and remuneration of the
generals and other officers who have sacrificed so much in the cause
of the Parliament and the people?"
"Before I reply to any particular questions," answered the President,
"I will, with the permission of the Parliament, read the _procès
verbal_ of our proceedings at the conference at Ruel. Then having seen
what we have really done, the chambers will be enabled to judge
whether they can approve of the treaty of peace we have concluded."
"You had no power, you had no power," shouted forty or fifty voices at
once,--"you had no power to conclude anything! Your authority expired
four or five days ago! There is no peace; we will have no peace! The
deputies have gone beyond their powers; they have abandoned
disgracefully our generals and our friends!"
In vain the Chief President attempted to read the paper which he had
in his hand. Every time he opened his mouth his words were drowned in
murmurs and reproaches; and, even when he abandoned the endeavour and
sat down, it was clear that the rest of the assembly only waited for
some new word to break forth again into tumult and invective. All
solemnity, all dignity, was laid aside: the turbulence had not even
the impressiveness derived from being terrible: it was simply
ridiculous; and the only image presented to the mind by the whole
scene was a body of fishwomen scolding in a market.
After the silence of perhaps a minute which ensued, a little pale
young man, who seemed to be slightly deformed, and who I afterwards
found was the Prince de Conti, rose near the head of the hall, and
said, in a mild and sweet-toned voice, that he did wonder that the
deputies from the Parliament had thought fit to conclude a peace with
the Court, without consulting himself and the generals of the army.
Another person, who was afterwards addressed as the Duke de Bouillon,
with a broad, unmeaning countenance, which, however, lighted up in an
extraordinary manner when he began to speak, followed the Prince de
Conti in addressing the Parliament:--
"Gentlemen," he said, "since you have thought fit to conclude a peace
with the Court, and allowed the Cardinal Mazarin, whose enmity I have
so highly provoked in your service, to remain prime minister, the only
favour and reward that I shall require of you is, to obtain me a
passport, as speedily as possible, to quit the country with my
family."
"We have not concluded a peace; we disavow it. The deputies had no
power," cried a dozen voices at once; and everybody again began
speaking together, as if the sense of hearing had suddenly left the
whole assembly. One man, the Duke de Beaufort, who was handsome
enough, indeed, but whose good looks were principally composed of high
health and stupidity, laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword, and
declared that it should never draw blood for Mazarin. Another
protested that the Parliament had rendered itself for ever unworthy of
the confidence of the people; and, what between reproaches and tumult,
more than an hour passed without anything being concluded.
In the midst of all this uproar, however, a piece of buffoonery,
performed by the well-known Bachaumont, restored some sort of good
humour to the assembly; for, seizing a momentary pause, when every
tongue, as if by common consent, halted to take breath, he passed
behind the famous De Retz, then archbishop-coadjutor of Paris,
snatched forth a poniard, which he had espied lying concealed in the
bosom of that factious prelate, and, holding it up to the eyes of the
Parliament, exclaimed, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, look at the breviary of
our archbishop!"
A roar of laughter succeeded, which left the whole of that grave
assembly so much out of countenance, that it was some time before they
could speak of any serious business, much more return to the angry
disputation in which they had been interrupted.
Taking advantage of the change, one of the lawyers, called the
President de Coigneux, rose, and made the most sensible proposition
which had yet been heard; namely, that, as the deputies had acted
without authority, and as the responsibility of what they had done, of
course rested upon themselves, they should be sent back with the
treaty they had framed, and, though permitted to take it for the basis
of a new one, should be directed, in addition, to stipulate for
immunity and recompence to the generals and nobles who had engaged in
the cause of the Parliament.
He had not yet concluded his harangue, however, when a tremendous
noise in the court below, and even in the hall without, together with
loud shouts of "Down with Mazarin! Down with the Parliament! Hang up
the deputies! Long live the noble generals! Let us have a republic!
Set fire to the _palais!_" and other such sweet and delectable
exhortations, roared by the stentorian voices of the crowd, caused the
orator to turn very pale, and to sit down before he had finished his
oration. Another lawyer rose, to second the proposal of the first: but
by this time the noise had become so tremendous that what he said
could not be distinguished; and the moment after the great door of the
hall opened, and one of the doorkeepers entered, pale and trembling,
announcing, in a voice scarcely articulate with fear, that the
populace had forced their way into the _Salle des pas perdus_, and
demanded to speak with the Duc de Beaufort.
That prince--who, with scarcely common sense to carry him through the
world, was the great popular leader both at that time, and for many
years afterwards--went out and tranquillised the people for a few
minutes; but scarcely had he again entered the hall when the tumult
recommenced, and it was found absolutely necessary to break up the
sitting.
Nevertheless, the Chief President--although against himself
personally, as the principal member of the deputation which had signed
the peace, the anger of the multitude was most fiercely excited--still
maintained his place with calm dignity; and declared, without the
slightest shade of fear detracting from his perfect self-possession,
that a proposition being before the Parliament, it could not separate
without coming to some decision on the subject. The motion that the
deputies should be sent back was immediately put, and was carried with
somewhat timid rapidity. The next question was, how to get the
obnoxious deputies to their houses with their lives, especially the
Chief President, who, notwithstanding political differences, was
admired and esteemed by every nobler spirit present.
He had just taken the voices of the assembly, as calmly as he would
have done at any ordinary time, and on any ordinary occasion; and for
a moment after, there followed a general pause, while the whole
assembly looked upon him with a feeling of interest and apprehension
that is difficult to describe. Even I, myself, who had never seen him
before, and now, as I stood behind, under one of the arches, only
caught an occasional view of him through the crowd, felt that I would
have shed my own blood to save him. Everybody present was well aware
that there existed a thousand chances to one that he would be
massacred the moment he showed his face amongst the infuriated mob
without; but he himself did not seem to feel that he was an object of
any particular attention, or to suppose that there was any imminent
danger, though he must have been internally convinced that his life
was not certain for a moment. Calmly rising, however, after he had
declared the vote of the chambers, and had pronounced the sitting at
an end, he prepared to leave the hall without any apparent agitation.
As he took the first step towards the door, the Duke de Bouillon and
several other officers, amongst whom my new lord was one, pressed
about him, and entreated him to pass round by the writing-rooms at the
back of the building, by which means he would avoid encountering the
people.
"Gentlemen," he replied, "the Court of Parliament never conceals
itself; and if I were certain of being torn in pieces the moment I set
my foot beyond this hall, I would not commit such an act of cowardice
as to go out by any but the way to which I am accustomed."
"At least," cried the Archbishop, "do not attempt to proceed till I
have endeavoured to calm the people."
A bitter smile curled the lip of the President, who well knew that
prelate to be the instigator of half the sedition which took place in
the city; but he replied, with a low bow, "Well, well, my very good
lord, go and give them the word, by all means;" and, almost as soon as
De Retz had left him, he again began to move towards the door. Several
of the more popular amongst the officers surrounded him as he
advanced, in order to protect him; and Monsieur de Villardin, placing
himself on his right hand, bade me go on immediately before, and do
what I thought best to assist in clearing the way.
"You seem to have great confidence in your page, Monsieur le Duc,"
said the President, in a calm, easy tone.
"You will see whether I have not cause, sir," replied the Duke; "but
let me beseech you not to utter one word, either good or bad, till you
are safe in your own dwelling."
It is a certain fact, that to teach people that we expect great things
from them is the best of all ways to cause them to use great
exertions; and the words that I overheard at once made me determine to
leave nothing undone that could show my zeal or activity. The rest of
the popular nobles and lawyers now approached to protect the other
deputies, and thus we advanced to the door. When we were close to it,
the _huissier_ threw it open, and a sight certainly somewhat appalling
presented itself. The outer hall was filled to suffocation with a
dense mass of ill-favoured vagabonds, who presented themselves, with
fury in their eyes and weapons in their hands, shouting all sorts of
imprecations upon the deputies, upon Mazarin, and upon the Court. They
were led by a ruined advocate, called Du Boisle, who was almost as
ragged as his followers, and equally well furnished with arms. Indeed,
the combination of swords, guns, and daggers, with rags and tatters,
had a very strange effect to the eye when it first lighted upon the
multitude, which presented the aspect of a strong force of armed
beggars.
However, we moved on directly towards the opposite door; and as all
looks were turned upon the Parliament, none upon me, I advanced,
keeping a step before the President, till I almost touched the front
rank man, in the centre of the crowd. He showed not the slightest
disposition to move out of the way; and, although I kept my hand upon
my dagger, I thought it might be as well to try mild means first; and,
therefore, setting my heel upon his toes, I gave them a gentle
squeeze, which made him start back, roaring, upon those behind him.
The tumult was still so great, that the cry of pain he uttered passed
almost unnoticed, while his rush back made those behind him retreat
also, so that a passage was cleared for us half way through the hall.
We lost no time in taking advantage of this favourable circumstance;
but, before we had proceeded far, Du Boisle threw himself in the way
of the President, and addressed him in language which at once showed
why his oratory was so much more successful in a mob than in a court
of justice. As his harangue was rather lengthy, and a crowd, like damp
hay, always heats itself by standing close packed together, I soon saw
brandishing of weapons, and caught a sight of two or three men
mounting upon the benches at the back, and calmly taking aim, with
their muskets, at various persons in our little party. It therefore
seemed necessary to bring the advocate's oration to a conclusion; and
as he was so near the President as sometimes to take him by the robe,
I easily got in behind him, and catching his coat, so as to throw him
over amongst the people, I tripped up his heels, in the very fury of
his declamation. My size, of course, greatly contributed to my
success, and also shielded me from notice and retribution; and in the
confusion which followed, the President and his companions pushed
forward, and descended the great staircase in safety.
The crowd without were not prepared for our issuing forth without any
notice from their friends within, and thus we got a considerable start
of them, which enabled us to convey the President to his house unhurt.
Our movements, however, were soon perceived: the multitude followed,
shouting imprecations upon us; and as we endeavoured to disperse,
after having accomplished our purpose, a thousand scenes of confusion
and brutality ensued. What became of the other nobles and counsellors,
I did not see. Monsieur de Villardin turned again towards the _palais_
to find his grooms and his horses; but as he had made himself one of
the most conspicuous in defending the President, he was surrounded and
attacked by a party of butchers, who threw him down upon the pavement.
I was three steps behind: one of his assailants knelt over him with a
poniard in his hand, shouting, "Death to the Mazarin!" and as long
practice in cutting throats seemed to have rendered him expert and
quick, it is possible that, ere I could have come up to afford any
assistance, Monsieur de Villardin would have lost his life, on the
very first day of my attendance upon him. At that moment, however, a
young cavalier, of not more than four or five and twenty years of age,
followed by two or three servants, dashed in amongst the butchers,
received in his own arm the blow of the dagger which was intended for
the duke's throat, and cleared the space round him.
At the same time, though he was sharply wounded, he exclaimed, with
the utmost good humour, "What! gentlemen, are you going to kill your
friends? This is no Mazarin! This is one of the generals. Do you not
remember Monsieur de Villardin?" It is astonishing how few words will
convince a mob of anything under the sun. The butchers looked utterly
confounded when they heard that they had just been engaged in the
laudable employment of assaulting one of the generals of their own
armies, though they were told so by a person of whom they apparently
knew as little. It was quite sufficient for them that some one said
so; and a few more words from the Duke himself, who had by this time
regained his feet, finished the impression, and sent them away to
assault somebody else with as much reason.
As soon as we were left alone, the Duke turned to his deliverer, and
expressed his gratitude for the service he had received. "It would be
a shame to me," he added, after his first thanks had been poured
forth, "if I were to remain one moment longer ignorant of the name of
one to whom I am so deeply indebted."
"I can well believe that you have forgot me," answered the young
gentleman, "for you have not seen me for seven or eight years; which
at my time of life effects a great change; but you cannot have
forgotten the name of Charles de Mesnil, your nearest neighbour, I
believe, in Brittany."
"Good Heaven, my dear Count, is it possible?" exclaimed Monsieur de
Villardin: "I had indeed forgot you; but you were merely a boy when I
last saw you. You are changed indeed. I never thought to see you such
a height. You are taller by full two inches than your father was.
Gracious Heaven! but you are bleeding," he added, remarking the wound
in his arm.
"Oh, it is a mere nothing," answered the other; "I will seek some
surgeon, and have it dressed."
"Nowhere but in my house," replied Monsieur de Villardin. "Call up my
horses. Are those yours standing yonder, Count?"
The reply was in the affirmative; and the young cavalier added, that
seeing Monsieur de Villardin coming out of the _palais_, he had
followed on foot to claim acquaintance with him.
I was not long in finding the grooms; and the two gentlemen having
mounted, we rode home, after having spent a morning as full of bustle
as even I could wish.
A surgeon was instantly sent for; and the young cavalier's wound
having been dressed, he was presented by Monsieur de Villardin to his
lady, as the son of an old friend, and the saviour of his life. What
passed further, I do not know; but the day closed, and I felt myself
very well contented with my situation.
CHAPTER IX.
After supping with the pages, whose meals were taken in a separate
chamber, I inquired of the old major-domo, who I found was to be my
oracle in the house, whether the Duke was likely to require my
attendance upon him during the course of the evening; and, learning
that I might absent myself in security, I told my old adviser that I
should go out into the streets of Paris, and take a stroll through the
city, which I had not seen since I left it with Lord Masterton, many
months before. The good old man gave me a great many sage and prudent
cautions as to my behaviour; but, at the same time, having a billet to
send to his nephew, one Jacques Marlot, a printer, who lived upon the
Key of the Goldsmiths, he did not at all oppose my expedition, but, on
the contrary, requested me to deliver the note as I went.
I willingly undertook the task, and sallied forth full of glad
thoughts, and well disposed to be pleased with everything that a great
city could present.
To tell the truth, my freedom from the irksome restraint and wearisome
application which my late studies demanded, made me feel very much
like a bird escaped from its cage, and I walked along through the
streets of Paris far happier than if I had been lord of one half of
the universe. That capital, nevertheless, was not, perhaps, one of the
best schools in which a boy, who, like myself, had run on far beyond
his years in the race of life, could complete his education. Always
the great emporium of vice and debauchery, Paris, in its present
state, offers but a faint picture of its former self. The licence of
every kind that then existed in the city, no tongue can tell, nor pen
can describe. Everything the most sacred had become a jest. Every
moral tie was broken, without shame or care; and never did liberty of
speech and action arrive at the consummation of a total demoralization
of the whole people, more completely than it had done, by this time,
in the French capital. It luckily happened, however, that, though
doubtless I might have found plenty to initiate me into all sorts of
mysteries which I had better not have known, I was too young for the
sort of instruction I might otherwise have received, and my nature was
too quick and vehement to take pleasure in vice without passion.
All that I found then to amuse me in the streets of Paris, was the
gaiety, the bustle, and the liveliness of the people, the witty
ribaldry of their songs and jests, their easily excited merriment, and
their extravagant grimaces. All this certainly pleased and interested
me; and I met with many a sight to attract my attention and arrest my
steps as I walked on to the Quai des Orfèvres. However, I at length
arrived there; and, having discovered the dwelling of Jacques Marlot,
I went in, and delivered his uncle's note.
He was a little, gay, joyful-looking man, not in the least resembling
the worthy major-domo, but with a face not unlike the busts of
Socrates, if we can conceive the countenance of the philosopher
covered over with a florid and somewhat wine-imbued skin, and lighted
up with two sparkling small black eyes, full of unquenchable fire and
malice.
At the time that I entered, he was busily engaged, though in total
solitude, in despatching the goodly form of a fat roasted capon, which
he took care to bathe in repeated draughts from a tankard of warm
wine, which stood in his chimney corner. He received me with the sort
of gay civility which his whole demeanour bespoke; and, opening his
uncle's note, grinned merrily at the contents; observing, that his
relation warned him to beware of printing anything against the Court,
as the Parliament and the generals were all racing against each other
to see which should make peace fastest.
"_Ma foi_," he added, "I will make my peace as they have made theirs,
with arms in my hand;" and, setting me down a cup, he insisted on my
staying to drink with him, which, after having once tasted his
potations, I felt very well inclined to do. It struck me, perhaps, as
a little extraordinary, that a poor printer, whose trade was not at
that time the most lucrative in Paris, should be able to afford rich
Burgundy, and to feed upon fat capon; but I soon found that, being of
a very unscrupulous nature, Master Jacques Marlot obtained large
prices for printing all those defamatory libels against Mazarin, the
Queen, and the whole Court, which then formed the amusement and the
reproach of the city. It was his rule never to inquire who the authors
were, provided they paid him largely. The more unceremonious the wit,
and biting the satire, the more it agreed with the tastes of the
printer himself; and many a noble, and, I believe I might add, many a
reverend pen, poured forth its gall from under the mantle of Jacques.
Marlot.
My promptitude in catching his _bons mots_, my readiness in replying
to them, my English accent, and my insular notions, as he called them,
all seemed to please and to amuse the printer much; and after having,
with a rueful glance, divided the last drop in the flagon equally
between himself and me, he invited me cordially to come back and see
him again in a few days at the same hour, which I did not fail to do
more than once; and many a merry laugh have we had together at the
follies and the vices of persons of every rank, class, and condition
in the state. Indeed, there was such a strange mixture of the cynic,
the stoic, and the epicurean, in the whole life and conduct of Jacques
Marlot, that I could not help looking upon him as a great philosopher.
Whether any one, who by chance may read these pages, will coincide in
my opinion, I cannot tell; but every one shall have an opportunity of
judging; for this casual acquaintance, formed under such very
common-place circumstances, went on into after years, and followed me
through many a strange scene to distant parts of the land. Those
scenes, however, will, themselves, require too long detail for me to
pause upon our less interesting interviews; though the conversation of
Jacques Marlot would, at the time I speak of, have formed no bad
jest-book for the Fronde; and on that very night I heard more _bons
mots_ and anecdotes in half an hour than had met my ear for many a day
before.
On my return home, I found a neat small room, not far from the
apartments of the good major-domo, prepared as my lodging; and by the
time I had half undressed myself, in order to go to bed, I was
surprised to see the door open, and Monsieur de Villardin himself
enter the room. As his brow was somewhat grave and stern, I imagined
that he had come to chide me for my absence during the evening; and I
instantly began to feel a spirit of rebellion at the very thought,
partly engendered by my old habits of independence, partly by the
sense of having in a degree recovered it anew. To my good young lord,
whom I had lately left, I had been bound by ties of affection and
gratitude, which would have made me do anything to please him, and
which caused me to submit to his orders or to his rebuke with patience
and good-will. Such, however, was not the case in regard to Monsieur
de Villardin, at least as yet; and I determined to show him that,
though I was perfectly willing to give him every sort of attendance
when he required it, yet that I looked upon the rest of my time as at
my own disposal. I resolved to let him know also, that, though the
fortunes of my family had been for some time at a low ebb, I had as
gentle blood in my veins as he had; and, in short, I was prepared to
be as saucy and impertinent, I doubt not, as any wild, ungovernable,
and hot-headed boy could be, when, to my surprise, he began upon quite
a different topic, without taking the slightest notice of my late
absence.
Setting down the taper that he carried, he threw himself into a large
chair that stood by the fire, and bidding me put on my vest again, as
he had a good deal to say to me, he continued, "Well, my page, we have
begun together, this morning, as well as I could wish, and I find that
the character I have received with you does you no more than justice:
I doubt not that every hour will increase my regard for you; and I
shall take care that you have every opportunity of distinguishing
yourself that you could desire through life."
This discourse, so different from that I had expected, was certainly
very pleasing to me; but at the same time I had learned too much of
the world not to understand that it was a prelude to something else,
which perhaps might not be so gratifying; and, consequently, I
answered with the words which mean less than any others in the world,
"Your lordship is very good."
"Nevertheless," proceeded Monsieur de Villardin, "it is but right that
we should clearly understand upon what terms we are to go on together.
Now," he continued, assuming a frank and easy air,--which when you see
men do you may be perfectly sure that they are cheating themselves,
and are trying to cheat you also,--"now, I am not in the least a
suspicious man; far from it; by nature I am quite the contrary;
nevertheless, I think it but right that every master of a large
household like this should be thoroughly acquainted with all that
takes place in his dwelling. Of course you will have a great many
opportunities of observing what passes in my family, and I must
require of you to be frank and free with me on all such subjects."
I did not like the matter at all, for I understood very well what he
meant; and I was sure that, although he felt some difficulty in
explaining himself at first, he would not be long before he found an
opportunity of doing so completely. However, I thought my usual
straightforward way was the best, and I answered, "I am always frank
and free, my lord. I say what I think to everybody, and of everybody."
"So I have heard, so I have heard," said the Duke; "and I must desire
that you do so, particularly towards me, remembering that I look upon
a person who would see his master wronged as fully more culpable than
the person who wrongs him."
"My lord," I replied, seeing that we must come to the point at last,
"I certainly never will see you wronged without endeavouring to right
you; and if I cannot do it in my own person, I shall hold myself bound
to tell you, in order that you may do it. I am sure your lordship does
not wish me to become a spy upon anybody, nor would it have any effect
if you did; for I would not remain in the house of any one half an
hour who was to require such a thing of me."
It is wonderful how many things people will do, from the very name of
which they would shrink with shame if put into plain terms; and though
I am perfectly convinced that Monsieur de Villardin,--from some of
those vague and visionary doubts which haunt the minds of suspicious
men, the spectres of a diseased imagination,--would have liked me to
watch all the events of any importance that took place in his house,
and make him a full report thereof, yet he immediately testified great
disgust at the very name of a spy, and replied, "Far from me be such a
thought for a moment, as to propose to you, young man, anything mean
or dishonourable. I know you are of gentle blood, and have served well
in a noble cause; and therefore, though I hold you bound by your duty,
as you are also by the promise you have just made, to give me instant
information if you see any one attempt to wrong me in any way, yet, of
course, I do not desire you to become a spy upon those around you."
I saw evidently that he caught at the promise I had made, and, to tell
the truth, I was sorry that I had made it. Not that I did not consider
myself bound by the station I held in his family to do exactly as I
had said; but I was a little afraid that my good lord might construe
my words rather more liberally than I had intended them to be
understood. As they were spoken, however, there was no help for it;
and though I repeated over again,--to make the engagement as clear and
definite as possible,--that I would never see him wronged without
endeavouring to right him, or without giving him an opportunity of
doing so himself, still I was afraid he might be inclined to exact,
under that promise, more than I should be inclined to concede. I found
indeed, afterwards, that he himself very well understood, that there
was another way of making it a point of honour with me to do as he
desired, which was by loading me with benefits, and bestowing on me
that confidence which would have rendered it an act of the greatest
ingratitude on my part to conceal from him any attempt to injure him.
Satisfied with the promise I had made, and determined with regard to
the course he would pursue towards me, he dropped that part of the
conversation there; but made me give him a long history of my family
and my adventures; told me that he had been well acquainted with Lord
Wilmerton, my mother's father, some fifteen years before; and ended by
giving me an assurance, which he nobly accomplished, that thenceforth
he would treat me more as his son than as his attendant. He then took
up the light and quitted the chamber, leaving me to meditate over the
future, which, notwithstanding the promises he had made, and which I
fully believed he would keep, still presented some clouds and shadows
that I certainly could have wished away.
After this conversation, I was almost continually with Monsieur de
Villardin, especially as, in all those exercises in which noblemen of
that day held themselves bound to have their pages well instructed, I
was already as skilful as necessary, and, consequently, had scarcely
any other occupation than that of attending upon the Duke. In the
pages' room matters soon assumed the state into which I could have
wished them to fall. Master Gaspard de Belleville, the eldest of my
three companions, submitted to necessity with a somewhat bad grace;
and the two younger, as soon as they had become reconciled to me as
their new comrade, and accustomed to my manners and accent, sought
shelter under my protection from the tyranny of their former despot.
The old major-domo ere long acquired a great affection for me; and as
I was quite willing, from the novelty of the thing, to be petted as
much as any one pleased, he made quite a favourite of me, providing me
with all those little comforts and luxuries which the chief domestic
of a great house has always at his disposal.
Monsieur de Villardin himself was, as Lord Langleigh had said, a man
who let no moment slip past him unmarked by some event; and, with a
spirit of restless activity,--not unlike what was my own at that
time,--he took part in everything that was going on. By day he was
either busy in the intrigues of his faction, or in the field with his
troops; and even at night he was very often as busy in beating up the
enemy's quarters, or in stirring up the Parisians to some new
absurdity. In all his expeditions I formed one of his attendants: I
had constant employment,--and both at home and abroad was as happy as
I could wish.
This state of things, however, could not, of course, last for ever;
and had no other circumstance occurred to interrupt its duration, the
gradual recovery of Monsieur de Villardin from the madness of the
Fronde would ultimately have put an end to it; but an incident soon
happened, to which I shall now turn, and which eventually occasioned
my departure from Paris rather faster than I approved of. The first
treaty of peace which had been signed was indignantly rejected, as we
have seen, by the Parliament, the populace, and the generals; and the
deputies were again sent back to treat at Ruel. During their
conferences, as an armistice had been refused, Monsieur de Villardin
and others took care to amuse Mazarin by frequent excursions, which
sometimes were pushed to the gates of St. Germain. Mazarin, always
timid, made concessions in proportion to his alarm; but, at the same
time, as he loved not the sort of arms with which the Parisian
generals fought him, he took care to combat them with weapons
peculiarly his own. Three fresh armies, as I have said, were directing
their course towards Paris in support of the Parliament. In regard to
the one promised from Normandy, the Cardinal tampered with the
general, the Duke de Longueville, and delayed its march. In regard to
the other, commanded by Turenne, knowing the chief to be
incorruptible, Mazarin corrupted the men. The whole army was literally
bought; and when its general was about to begin his advance upon the
capital, he was at once abandoned by his troops. The third, consisting
of Spaniards, the Cardinal well knew would not march without the
others; and having thus placed himself on more equal terms with the
Parisian leaders, he took advantage of the consternation which these
events produced to press the treaty of peace, which was soon after
concluded and ratified by all parties, but the populace, and one or
two of the leaders who had too great a love of faction, in the
abstract, to yield to any measure calculated to put it down. Thus,
then, the war was brought to an end; but still so turbulent and
disorganized was the state of Paris, that the Court dared not set foot
within its walls; and, while the people were committing every sort of
excess, and the most scandalous libels upon Mazarin and the royal
family were every day published, the Parliament, in order to signalise
their zeal for their new allies, the Court, proceeded against the
authors and printers with the most tyrannical severity.
Of course my good friend Jacques Marlot could not escape, and I one
day found old Jerome Laborde, the major-domo, in great affliction on
account of his nephew, who had been arrested that morning for the
publication of the famous attack upon the Queen, called "La Custode."
It so happened that, by my master's permission, I passed the two
following days at St. Maur, with Lord Masterton, who was kindness
itself towards me; and on the third morning I was sent by the Duke,
immediately after my return, to gain some intelligence in the Faubourg
St. Germain. As I came back, I saw an immense crowd advancing rapidly
towards the Place de Grève, and crying "Honte! honte! Aux Mazarins!
aux Mazarins!" Running my eye a little forward, I soon perceived that
the cause of the tumult originated in the procession of the criminal
lieutenant and his archers towards the place of execution, whither
they were carrying some condemned criminal to make his last public
appearance in the most disagreeable manner. As it was evident that the
principal personage on the scene was in favour with the public, I
hastened forward to obtain a glance, when, to my horror and
astonishment, I beheld the jovial face of my poor acquaintance,
Jacques Marlot, still as jovial as ever, notwithstanding his
endeavours to assume a sober and sedate demeanour under the very grave
circumstances in which he was placed.
Every sort of mad enterprise was then as common as a hedge sparrow,
and some evil demon put it in my head to rescue the unhappy printer
from the hands of Monsieur le Bourreau.
Amongst the mob were a great number of printers' devils, booksellers'
boys, and other shopmen; and speaking a word or two to those who
seemed the most zealous, our plan was quickly arranged, and spread
like wild-fire amongst the people. The crowd was every minute
increasing; their cries and execrations were gaining new strength at
each vociferation; and I saw Grani, the criminal lieutenant, turn his
head more than once to scan the aspect of the very unwelcome train
which now accompanied him. He soon, however, reached the gibbet in the
Place de Grève, and poor Marlot turned,--with a face out of which even
his rueful situation could not banish entirely habitual fun,--to
pronounce, as usual, his last oration:--"My friends, my friends," he
cried, "take warning! See what comes of a Mazarinade!"
The name acted as a watchword, and the moment it was pronounced, a
well-directed volley of stones was let fly at the criminal lieutenant
and his archers, who were not prepared for that sort of attack. One of
the men was knocked down; the rest were thrown into confusion; and,
taking advantage of the moment, we pushed on and charged the
panic-struck officers of justice.[2] Some of the guards were felled to
the earth; some of them fled as fast as their legs would carry them.
The criminal lieutenant was beaten severely, and glad to escape with
his life; Jacques Marlot was in an instant set at liberty, amidst the
shouts and gratulations of the populace.
----------
[Footnote 2: The Cardinal de Retz mentions in his Memoirs, that two
criminals were rescued, and seems to imply that they were saved from
the gallows together. Joly, whose work forms a running commentary upon
that of De Retz, shows that the Cardinal spoke of Jacques Marlot, the
printer, as one of these culprits, and mentions his crime,--though the
punishment of death for writing, or rather for printing, a libel, may
seem a little severe. It must be acknowledged, indeed, that "La
Custode," a copy of which exists in the British Museum, is a most
dirty and scurrilous attack upon the Queen; but still the tyranny of
the whole proceeding against this unhappy man seemed to justify the
hatred which the people conceived, about this time, towards the great
body of Parisian lawyers.]
----------
Feeling that I had perhaps done a foolish thing, and--from a knowledge
of the delicate situation in which the Duke stood with the Court--more
apprehensive of the consequences to him than to myself, I made as much
haste as I could to get away quietly, without even staying to
congratulate the printer on his deliverance. As we had completely put
the archers to flight, and had quite satisfied them with their airing
in the Place de Grève for one day, no one opposed me on my way home,
and I found Monsieur de Villardin in the hall ready to go out on
horseback, accompanied by the page I have mentioned under the name of
Gaspard de Belleville. I had generally found it a good plan throughout
my little life, whenever I had committed a fault which I was conscious
might affect some other persons, to make them acquainted with it
immediately, that they might be upon their guard against the
consequences; and, following this rule, I at once went up to Monsieur
de Villardin, and informed him that I believed I had done a very
foolish thing.
"It is half repaired by acknowledging it so frankly," replied the
Duke; "but what is it, my boy, that we may do the best to remedy it?"
Without farther circumlocution I informed him of the facts, which
seemed to startle him a good deal.
"This is unpleasant, indeed," he replied; "but, in truth, I cannot
find in my heart to be angry with you; for I doubt not I should have
done just the same: and what the master would do, he cannot well blame
in the page. We will hope, however, that you have not been recognised.
Nevertheless," he added, in a low tone, "have what clothes you may
need packed up, and be ready to set out at a minute's notice; for in
these times no one can tell one moment what they may have to do the
next."
I followed my lord's orders to the letter; and as soon as he had gone
out, cast everything that I had that was well worth carrying, into two
large saddle-bags. In this occupation I proceeded most zealously, not
having the slightest inclination to act as substitute for Jacques
Marlot in the elevated station which the criminal judge of the
Tournelle Court had destined him to fill that very morning. The
thoughts of such a consummation to my enterprises disgusted me
considerably, as, of all deaths under the sun, I had the greatest
objection to that of hanging; and the idea thereof occupied me so
completely, that it was not till I had finished the preparation of my
saddle-bags, that I bethought me how much interested the old
major-domo might feel in the mutual adventures which his nephew and
myself had gone through that morning. As soon as the idea crossed my
mind, however, I took my way to the old man's apartments; and, as he
had heard of his nephew's condemnation, but not of his deliverance, I
found him in a state of great agitation and distress.
"Cheer up, cheer up, Monsieur Jerome Laborde," I said, as soon as I
had obtained admission; "cheer up, things are not so bad as you
suppose."
The old man shook his head, but I went on and told him that I had
heard from certain authority that his nephew had been delivered by the
hands of the people. He was at first incredulous, and although I could
have given him stronger proof than mere hearsay, that what I asserted
was correct, I did not think it necessary or right to make any one
acquainted with the share I had borne in the rescue, except my lord
and master: I added, however, so many assurances, that the old man at
length began to have some faith in my statement, and went out himself
to ascertain the facts. I did not see him afterwards till night; but I
was very well assured that he must soon receive satisfactory
confirmation of the good tidings which I had brought him.
CHAPTER X.
Shortly after Monsieur de Villardin's return, on the day of which I
have just been speaking, I received notice that I should be required
to accompany him in the evening to a great supper at the house of the
Duke de Bouillon. As I was beginning, at that time, from one
circumstance or another, to imagine that I was in no degree uglier
than my fellow mortals, to find out that good looks were prized even
in a page, and that a handsome person was not shown to less advantage
by appearing in becoming apparel, I took care that the finest of my
wardrobe should be displayed on the present occasion, where I was sure
of seeing, and in some sort mingling with, all that was bright, and
noble, and beautiful, in the French capital.
Although self-conceit has made many a man very comfortable through
life, I do believe that the peculiar modification of the same feeling
which is generally called vanity, seldom, if ever, produces anything
but disappointment. We did not arrive at the Hotel de Bouillon till
more than one half of the company had assembled; and though the scene
was certainly as splendid as youth, beauty, wealth, gaiety, good taste
and grace, could render it, my pleasure was of course confined to
seeing others, without attracting the slightest attention myself.
Confounded with the other pages, of whom there was an immense
profusion, nobody, in all probability, ever saw me, except worthy
Monsieur de Vitray, who recognised me instantly, and spoke a few words
to me as he passed.
As is usually the case, I believe, all the visiters who appeared
there, came with their own thoughts and purposes, and gave not one
idea to anybody else, except as they were connected with their designs
and pleasures. From the extraordinary twist, too, that everything had
got in France at that time, the general order of all things seemed
inverted. The bright, and the beautiful, and the young of the other
sex gave up the whole of their conversation to politics and factious
intrigue; while cunning statesmen, deep lawyers, and reverend divines,
old warriors, and grey-headed politicians, universally devoted
themselves to making love to everybody they should not have made love
to.
I came away, thinking a Parisian party very dull; and sitting in the
_portière_ of the Duke's coach, who earned along with him one or two
of his particular friends in the body of the vehicle, I ruminated over
my disappointment, too young, indeed, to investigate metaphysically
the sensations which I experienced, but quite old enough to resolve
that I would never again expect any one to take notice of me, either
for my fine clothes or my good looks.
When we reached home, Monsieur de Villardin's friends descended and
went in with him, to pay their respects to the Duchess, who, having
been slightly indisposed, had remained at home. He, of course,
accompanied them into the hall, but, as he passed me, he paused a
moment to say in an under voice, "Do not go to bed." There was a good
deal of anxiety in his eye, and emphasis in his tone, which made me
attach to his words a greater degree of importance than they seemed at
first to bear. Nor was I wrong in my interpretation, for in less than
half an hour, the old major-domo called me out of the page's room,--in
which I had been sitting with Gaspard de Belleville, whose spirits I
had remarked to be extravagantly high,--and led me by the hand to his
own apartment.
When he had got me there, and shut the door, good Jerome Laborde
folded me in his arms, and the tears actually rose in his eyes. "I
have bad news for you, my son," he said; "and unfortunately it happens
that your kindness to my nephew is likely to prove your ruin. My lord
the Duke has just been telling me that it was you who saved my poor
nephew, and that the criminal lieutenant and his myrmidons have found
you out."
Of course the first announcement of such a fact was not particularly
agreeable to me; but, as I came hastily to reflect upon my fate, and
to think that I should again be obliged to scamper off, and do the
best I could for myself in the world, there seemed something so absurd
in the sort of perversity with which fate destined me to be a
wanderer, that I could not help laughing, notwithstanding the
difficulties of my situation.
"You laugh, my son," cried the old man, in great astonishment; "but I
can tell you the business is a very serious one, and that you might
chance to be shut up for life in the Bastille."
"If that is the case," replied I, "the matter is serious indeed. I
thought they would only have hanged me; and I have been so accustomed
to risk hanging every day of my life, that it was nothing new; but, as
to spending my whole existence in a prison, that is a very different
affair; and therefore, good Monsieur Jerome, I shall get out of the
way directly, leaving you to make my excuses to my lord, for going
without asking his permission.
"You are too quick, my son--you are too quick," cried the old man; "it
was the Duke himself who told me but now to speak to you. Do not
suppose that he intends to leave you without protection. No, no; he is
a kind-hearted man, though quick and jealous in his disposition from a
boy; and he bade me tell you that he would have defended you to the
last for the act you have committed, even had it not been in favour of
my nephew; but that, as it was so, he will defend you more eagerly
still. He thinks, however, that for your present safety, you had
better quit Paris as soon as possible; and, as he intended to send
some one to his estates in Brittany to-morrow, he will give you the
commission, and order a groom to accompany you and show you the road."
"I am quite ready," replied I; "there is nothing to be done but to
saddle the horses."
"Never did I see so hasty a boy," cried the old man; "how will you get
out of the gates, I should like to know, when they are closed as
firmly as locks and chains can make them?"
"I would get over the walls," replied I, smiling.
"And the horses?" said the old man, with a smile: "no, no, my son, you
must follow the plans laid down for you by my lord, who knows this
country, at least, better than you do. When you have everything ready,
he says, go to bed, and sleep for two or three hours; rise twenty
minutes before the dawn, and you will find horses, and the packet he
intends you to take, all ready prepared for you. By the time you get
to the gates, they will be opened, and you will have nothing else to
do but to ride on as fast as possible, till you reach my lord's castle
of the Prés Vallée. Remain there quietly till you hear from him, and,
in a few weeks, he will have negotiated your pardon with the court."
This plan was, of course, one that both suited my wishes and provided
for my safety, better than any I could have laid out for myself. It
offered me the prospect, too, of new scenes and adventures of a nature
somewhat less appalling than those which might lead me into a dungeon
for life; and I consequently proceeded to put it into execution with
every feeling of joy and gratitude. Good Jerome Laborde undertook to
have me called at the appointed hour, and, accustomed from infancy to
take repose at any scattered moments that offered the possibility of
doing so, I laid down, and was soon asleep.
When I was called in the morning, I found, much to my surprise, that
Monsieur de Villardin was himself up; and, as I afterwards discovered,
had risen at that early hour solely on my account--a mark of kindness
and interest that touched my heart the more, because it was totally
unexpected. After receiving from his own hands a packet of letters for
his different farmers and receivers in Brittany, accompanied by the
assurance that he would leave no means untried to procure my pardon, I
took my leave, and descending to the courtyard, found the groom who
was to accompany me, holding two strong horses, on one of which
already appeared the saddle-bags containing my wealth and apparel. Old
Jerome Laborde was also there, ready to embrace me before I took my
departure; and ere we set out, he did not forget to burden the groom
with a _bissac_ loaded with various Parisian delicacies, to console me
on my journey.
The Duke had strictly enjoined me to avoid all towns in the
neighbourhood of Paris, and to make my first day's ride the longest
and the most rapid of the whole expedition; and, consequently, when
once we had passed the gates, which we were permitted to do without
question, we set spurs to our beasts, and never drew a rein for twenty
miles. By this time, however, I began to feel in security from the
pursuit of anything but hunger, which was now pressing me hard; and
after riding on a few miles further, we saw a small open wood in the
neighbourhood of Epernon, into which we retired for the purpose of
lightening good Jerome Laborde's _bissac_ of some of its savoury
contents. The groom, who, like most of Monsieur de Villardin's
domestics, seemed to be a connoisseur in the good things of this life,
spread forth the viands on the table-cloth afforded by the green grass
at the bottom of the gentle slope in the wood, with infinite taste;
and the fine _pâte_ of turkey and truffles which formed the staple of
the _bissac_, looked none the worse for its crust having cracked in
more than one place under the jumbling of our ride, suffering the
topaz-like jelly to shine forth through the apertures.
Scarcely, however, had I time to help myself to a ponderous slice, and
to add thereto a portion of wild boar's face, which exceeded any
Hampshire chaw I ever tasted, when I fancied that I heard a low groan
quite near. The sound made me start up and look around; but as I could
perceive nothing, as hunger was unruly, and as the groom, who by this
time was deep in the appropriate worship of the pasty, declared he had
heard nothing, I sat down again, and in one attack very nearly
demolished the slice I had first assigned to myself. I then added a
draught of excellent Burgundy from a flask which the _bissac_ also
afforded; but I now certainly began to think that our regale had made
the hamadryads envious, for another distinct groan followed, evidently
proceeding from a large oak tree hard by, and the moment after, the
body of a man appeared, cautiously descending from the higher boughs.
As he swarmed down the trunk, tightly embracing its rugged
circumference with his arms, which operation was rendered somewhat
difficult by a certain degree of obesity in his own person, he every
now and then turned his head partly over his shoulder, as if to obtain
a sight of the good things before us, exclaiming, as he did so, "It is
irresistible!--philosophy is in vain--I resign myself to my fate!"
The next minute his feet touched the ground, and turning round with a
sort of joyous pirouette, he gave me a full view of my acquaintance,
Jacques Marlot. I confess that a suspicion of the identity of this
genius of the oak and the ci-devant printer had crossed my mind, as he
descended the tree, from various peculiar points of his rotund
conformation; but it appeared that on his part, although he had
obtained a thorough perception of what we had been eating and
drinking, his bird's-eye view in the tree had not enabled him to see
enough of our faces to recognise my person, for his first exclamation
was, as he turned round, "Gentlemen, I am an hungered; and if ye do
not give me food, ye have committed a heinous sin in displaying that
delicious _pâté_ before me.--Ye gods! what do I see?" he continued, as
his eye lighted full upon me: "My ph[oe]nix of pages--my master Jean
l'Anglais! My deliverer from a more elevated station than ever I
coveted! Let me embrace thee in token of thanks for my abasement."
As the best welcome I could give the unfortunate printer, I made him
partake liberally of our fare, and suffered him to cheer his heart
with our flask, till half his woes were forgotten. While he went on,
which was nearly till pasty disappeared and bottle sounded empty, I
told him that I was now suffering on his account, and explained to him
my situation. At first, his whole soul being engrossed in one
occupation, he seemed to feel but little for my misadventures; but as
soon as he had a moment's leisure, he looked shocked; and when he had
finished, and could absolutely eat no more, he expressed, gracefully
enough, both his gratitude for my services, and his grief for the
inconveniences to which they had exposed me. He then told me that as
soon as he was out of the hands of the archers the day before, he had
taken leave of his friendly mob of deliverers, and trusting to nothing
but his own legs, had made the best of his way out of Paris.
"As soon as I was fairly beyond the gates," he added, "I set off
running again, as hard as I could; and when I could run no more, I
walked; and when I could walk no longer, I stood still, which was
exactly on the spot where I now am. I had nothing to eat; and you
there behold my beverage," he continued, pointing to a small stream
that danced before us. "I christened it, however, vin blanc d'Epernon;
and though it was not quite so good as the vin blanc d'Epernay, it
quenched my thirst; and having dug up as many pignuts as I could find,
I mounted yonder oak with all the agility of a light diet, and soothed
myself to sleep by comparing myself to Diogenes. How I should have
passed over this day, I do not know; for I dared not visit my house,
which, doubtless, was also pillaged long ago by the ministers of
justice; and you may easily conceive that the archers of the criminal
lieutenant do not suffer those who are placed under their protection
to do so foolish a thing as go to the gallows with money in their
pockets. However, I never despair, doubting not now, as heretofore, to
make something out of whatever lot dame Fortune chooses to throw. Nor
has she ever been unfavourable to those who trust to her bounty; for
what can prove her kindness more strongly than sending you here for my
relief and consolation?"
I complimented Maître Jacques upon his philosophy, which was much of
the same quality as my own, and begged him to keep the wild boar's
cheek, which had suffered less in the encounter than the pasty, as
another token of fortune's favour. I found, however, that he was very
desirous of accompanying us on our journey, and talked of my horse
being strong enough to carry two. The groom also seconded his proposal
in a way that I thought somewhat extraordinary; but, nevertheless, at
the risk of appearing selfish, I put a decided negative upon it, not
so much upon my own account as because I thought that it might place
my lord in very unpleasant circumstances, if the criminal who had just
been rescued from the gallows, and the page who had helped to rescue
him, were found riding to his estates in Brittany, guided by one of
his own grooms.
I represented, however, to Jacques Marlot, that in all probability the
officers of justice were after us both by this time; and that,
although in some cases union was security, in this instance our best
hope of escape lay in separating, especially as it was more than
probable that the knowledge of my being attached to Monsieur de
Villardin might make the archers follow upon the very road I was
pursuing.
This last argument was conclusive with the printer, and as, thanks to
the bounty of Lord Masterton, I was still furnished with more money
than I knew how to employ, I added thirty crowns to the breakfast I
had given my acquaintance, and left him to continue his journey full
of renewed hope and gratitude.
The groom who accompanied me seemed to take a greater interest in
Jacques Marlot than the length of their intercourse warranted, and
inquired very particularly into the route he was likely to pursue; but
the printer, according to the good English proverb, was too old a bird
to be taken by the chaff which my guide spread before him; and with a
cunning smile evaded his questions, whispering to me as he embraced me
at parting, "Beware of your guide."
Early--too early--had I learned to distrust my fellow-creatures, a
lesson which we have unfortunately too frequent opportunities of
repeating in our course through the world ever to forget, when once
the sweet confidence of innocence and inexperience, like the bloom
upon ripe fruit, has been brushed away by the first touch of the
polluting world. I had seen fully enough, however, to doubt the faith
of my present conductor, and I resolved to watch him closely as we
proceeded, not well knowing what particular line his roguery might
take, but suspecting strongly that he was not the most honest of
servants, nor likely to prove the most infallible of guides.
It luckily so happened that the saddle-bags containing my stores of
all kinds were upon my own horse, and therefore I possessed the power
of directing all our movements, as well as the right of doing so,
which my station and my lord's commands conferred. Nor was it at all
unpleasant, I confess, to reflect, that in the event of any dispute
arising between myself and my companion, who had been directed in all
respects to consider himself as my servant, I had nothing to do but
ride away, and leave him to do the best for himself,--which reflection
was the more especially gratifying, as I believed he might obtain a
considerable reward by betraying me, and did not much doubt that he
had some thoughts of the kind in his own mind.
I showed him, at least, that expedition was part of my plan; for as
soon as we were once more in our saddles, I pushed forward with all
speed, and accomplished nearly forty miles more before night. A
considerable town lay at the distance of a few miles to our right, and
thither my guide strongly recommended me to proceed, lauding to the
skies the accommodation we should there meet with; but I took my own
plan, and riding on till I espied a neat cabaret in a village, halted
there, preferring the risk of a bad supper to the risk of an
unpleasant lodging.
The next day we proceeded in the same manner, though not at the same
rate; taking whatever refreshment we needed at the smallest and most
retired places I could find; and though the worthy groom more than
once attempted to prove restive, and to treat me as a mere boy, he
found that he had to do with one who had managed shrewder men than
himself. It soon became apparent that, though our horses were strong
and well seasoned to hard work, it would take us rather more than four
days to reach the place of our destination; but for the last hundred
miles I found my companion much more easily managed, yielding at once
to my will with the best grace in the world, which conduct pleased,
though it did not deceive me.
Sudden changes, without an apparent cause, always afford very good
reasons for suspicion; and it was clear enough that the alteration in
the good groom's behaviour had not taken place from any increased
reverence for myself.
"Whatever it is he intends to do," I thought, as I remarked this
change in his demeanour, "the fellow has laid out his plan, and thinks
it quite secure. He must have fixed, too, upon some spot for executing
it towards the end of our journey, since he is so indifferent as to
the way we take here. I will watch him well, however, at every mile."
This resolution I kept to the letter, never suffering him to be out of
my sight for a minute; but nothing suspicious occurred till the close
of our fourth day's journey, when he declared, that since I was so
fond of hard riding, he thought we might get on to Rennes that night.
I did not exactly know how far it was to Rennes, for had I been aware
that it was at the distance of twenty miles, when our horses were
already nearly knocked up, I should have concluded that--calculating
on my distaste to anything he proposed--he wanted me to stay where we
were, and, therefore, suggested that we should proceed further. I
certainly fell into the trap; and simply because he desired to go on,
determined to halt at the next village.
When we reached it, the first house I espied was a neat cabaret, and
drawing in my rein I sprang to the ground, announcing my determination
of sleeping there. A grin of satisfaction on the groom's face was the
first thing that excited suspicion in my mind that I had overreached
myself; but the countenance of mine host, who now appeared, confirmed
my doubts; and as he spoke to the servant as an old friend, I soon
found that I had made a terrible mistake. On inquiring the distance to
Rennes, too, and finding that our horses could by no means have
accomplished it, I saw that the attempt had been proposed solely to
make me do the contrary; and thence deducing that, at this very spot,
the consummation of the groom's man[oe]uvres was destined to take
place, of course I determined to be all eyes, ears, and understanding.
The landlord's daughter, a very pretty frank-faced brunette, of about
twenty, attracted by my gay dress, and feeling that kindness which all
women experience towards extreme youth, soon came up to me, and in a
very short time we were great friends; but I could not attend to half
her civil offers of the various sorts of refreshment that the house
afforded, on account of my anxiety to keep watch over the groom. In
this endeavour I was tolerably successful for some time, and I do not
think he obtained an opportunity of exchanging one word with the
landlord, till we had concluded our supper, except, indeed, such as
related to the general affairs of Monsieur de Villardin, whose name
was well known in that part of the country, and to the state of Paris.
All this time, however, I had another subject of anxiety in my
saddle-bags, which were left up stairs in the chamber assigned to me;
and after I had sufficiently refreshed myself, I was tempted thither
to see that all was safe, thinking that I should be down again in time
to prevent much private conversation.
I was wrong; and on again entering the kitchen I found the places of
both the landlord and the groom vacant, while the host's mother sat by
the fire dozing, and the pretty brunette was spinning beside her with
great eagerness.
As soon as ever I appeared, the latter beckoned me to her, and said in
a low voice, "You are betrayed, _mon pauvre garçon_; but if you would
hear how, go out at the back-door, run along at the top of the bank as
quietly as you can, and make the best use of your ears."
I instantly followed her advice, and opening the door to which she
pointed, soon found myself in the little court of the auberge, which
again opened into what seemed the garden of a _guingette_, surrounded
on three sides by walls, and on the fourth, which lay to my right
hand, flanked by a high cliffy bank that sloped down towards the door
at which I stood. It was night, and the moon had not yet risen, but
there was still light enough remaining to let me see or rather divine
all this, and running up the bank, and along the edge, with as
noiseless a foot as possible, I soon heard voices speaking in the
garden below me. I crept on as fast as I could, and the next moment
clearly distinguished the words made use of. The groom was acting the
orator as I came up, and proceeded as follows:--
"No, no, that won't do at all, Monsieur Parnac, for if he were to be
taken in your house, under my guidance, most likely my good lord would
turn me to the door, if he did not throw me out of the window, and
would certainly ruin you here for your pains. You do not know what a
man he is--so sharp, if you give him the least cause for suspicion! I
do believe he finds out when one is going to do any little trick, even
before one knows it oneself. I remember his turning off his chief
ecuyer for merely whispering in the street with a maquignon, who was
bringing him a horse for sale. No, no, let it be managed my way. Send
off some one to-night, and have the officers stationed about the
watering-place, by Meri, you know. Let them take me too, seemingly,
for being in his company; and so my lord's suspicions will be set at
rest, and I shall be carried back to Paris, too, where I shall get the
reward."
"Ay, but, Maître Pierre, are you quite sure of the reward?" demanded
mine host.
"All I can tell thee, Parnac, is this," replied the groom. "I heard it
offered by proclamation, as we were riding home, the evening before I
came away. A thousand crowns were to be given to any one who would
deliver up the leader of those that had rescued the criminal, and two
thousand crowns to those who would deliver up the criminal himself. I
would have done it myself, if I had known at the time that this boy
was the person; and I could have managed it easily as we came through
the city. But I never found it out, as I tell you, till we met with
this Jacques Marlot, and then I heard them talk about it quite as if
they were in security."
"Well, well, Pierre, I think thou wilt get thy thousand crowns,"
answered the landlord; "and they know how to do these things so
secretly at the Court, that thou mayest get them and not lose thy
master's service either; but tell me, what am I to get?"
"Why, of course, I will pay thee for the man and horse sent to the
city," replied the groom.
"Ay, but that will not be quite enough," answered mine host, "to pay
me for risking your good lord's custom and patronage. Something more!
something more! good Pierre, or thou mayest ride to Rennes to-night
thyself."
"Well," answered Pierre, "I will tell you what, Parnac; the officers
shall bring him on here, and while we halt to refresh, you and I will
have the picking of those saddle-bags of his, in which there are a
good thousand crowns besides. If he finds them gone and complains, it
will pass for a piece of the archers' handiwork, and no inquiry will
be made."
"Ay, now thou speakest reason," answered his respectable friend, "and
I will send off directly. At the half-way watering place, thou sayest;
but at what hour? We must name some hour for the officers to be
there."
"Say nine o' the clock," answered the groom; "we shall not be there
till eleven; but they must wait, you know, they must wait."
"Well, it shall be done without delay," replied the host, "but now,
hie you in, Pierre, for you say the boy is as sharp as your master,
and may suspect us. Yet stay; remember, if you fail me about the bags,
I will do for you with your lord. So keep faith."
The groom replied at some length, but as their farther conversation
seemed likely to refer alone to their private affairs, I made the best
of my way back to the house, and ere either groom or landlord
returned, had gained sufficient information from my pretty brunette,
in regard to the roads, to serve my purpose for the next day. I found
that, at the distance of about four miles from the village, the
highway was intersected by another, which led away in the very
direction I wished to take. It was neglected, however, and heavy, she
said, passing through some wide forest ground, which always affords a
bad foundation; and since the new road had been made, she added, few
people ever travelled the old one except the couriers for St. Malo,
who went that way for the purpose of dropping packets, and sometimes
sums of money, at various small towns through which it alone passed.
It used, she said, to have a bad reputation for robbers, and about
three months before, one of the royal messengers had been plundered,
but since that time she had heard of no farther outrage.
As she was speaking, the groom came in, and to break off a
conversation I did not want him to hear, I asked him sharply where he
had been so long. He replied that he had been tending his horses; and
to put him completely off his guard, I ordered them to be at the door
exactly at the hour on which I found he had already calculated. He
promised to be punctual, and not doubting that he would be so, I soon
after retired to bed. Danger of any kind never made me sleep less
soundly, but I confess that, on this occasion, it was long before I
could close my eyes; but it was self-reproach, not apprehension, kept
me awake. I had been twice betrayed into an act of egregious folly
during that one journey, and I began to think I was losing the
acuteness which had been my most serviceable quality. I could have
pardoned myself, perhaps, for suffering the groom to cheat me into
staying where we then were; but for babbling myself, or suffering
Jacques Marlot to babble in the hearing of a third person, I rated
myself for a good hour after I was in bed.
CHAPTER XI.
I was up and watchful early the next morning; for although I had now
obtained as much information in regard to my worthy guide's purposes
as was necessary to enable me to shape my own plans thereby, I thought
it better to prevent him, as far as possible, from organizing his
scheme more completely with the landlord, and providing against
contingencies. By seeing a bespattered horse standing in the yard, and
the complacent countenances both of the groom and the landlord, I
divined that their messenger had returned from Rennes, or from
whatever other town they had sent to in search of officers to
apprehend me, and that all their arrangements had hitherto been
successful. Trusting, however, that they would find that such
calculations, formed without the consent of so principal a party as
myself, would be more difficult to execute than they anticipated, I
took my breakfast in great tranquillity, and as soon as the horses
were ready, paid my score and set out.
The groom was in great glee, which continued uninterrupted for four
good miles of our morning's ride; but at length I began to see before
us the division of the roads, with the finger-post that directed weary
travellers towards their destination, and I now prepared myself for
the execution of my design. Not knowing whether I might not have a
severe struggle to effect it, I felt that my pistols were free in the
holsters, and as we came to the carrefour, drew in my rein, and gazed
up at the finger-post. There, written in large characters, certainly
appeared RENNES! PARIS! pointing either way to the road towards which
our horses' heads were turned, or to that which we had just travelled.
On the right-hand board, however, was written ST. MALO, and as the
groom was quietly riding on in the direction of Rennes, I shouted,
"Holla! where are you going, good Pierre?"
He came back with a sweet complacent countenance, and told me that he
had been going on the road to Rennes, which was the only one we could
follow; but I took the liberty of differing with him in opinion,
stating, that I thought the road to St. Malo would do just as well. He
assured me that I was mistaken; that it would lead me at least ten
miles to the right of the spot towards which my steps ought to be
directed; that it was so bad our horses could not travel it; that it
was infested by robbers of the worst description; and, in short, that
every sort of evil under the sun awaited the unfortunate travellers
who obstinately pursued that road.
I listened to the whole detail as calmly and attentively as possible;
and then, much to his surprise, I informed him, that I loved robbers,
delighted in bad roads, enjoyed a roundabout more than a
straightforward track, and was contented to undergo all the evils that
he threatened, for the sake of following the path to which I had a
fancy. As the matter had now become serious, and the success or
failure of his scheme depended upon the next ten steps, the worthy
groom took it up _en cavalier_, put on a blustering aspect, stood up
in the stirrups with the frown of a Sylla, and told me that he would
submit to such whims no longer, but that go I must on the way which he
thought right.
In reply to this I reminded him of one or two things which had
occurred to me since I had become attached to Monsieur de Villardin,
and in which my opponents had generally been worsted, when our
contention came to manual operations. I believe, indeed, that I had
established a very tolerable reputation for never suffering anything
of the kind that I undertook to remain unfinished or imperfect; and,
as I was both better armed and mounted than himself, my companion was
easily convinced that it would be wiser to abandon every thing like
compulsory measures towards me. He declared, however, that although he
should certainly not attempt to force me to do what he thought right,
he would take very good care not to follow me on such a road as that
which I was determined to pursue.
Under some circumstances I might not have been very profoundly grieved
at the idea of losing his company; for in general I had fully
sufficient reliance on myself to be perfectly at my ease when I was
quite alone. In the present case, however, as I strongly suspected
that his design was not to deprive me of his society for long, but
rather to restore it, augmented by the company of the officers from
Rennes, I determined to entreat his stay with me; and, as the
strongest inducement that I could hold out to him, I took one of the
pistols from my saddle-bow, and levelling it at his head, with the
distance of about ten yards between us, I ordered him to turn his
horse up the St. Malo road without more ado, or I would shoot him on
the spot. Though I saw him turn very pale at this intimation, he
affected to laugh, declaring that I must be in jest; and I thought I
perceived that he hesitated, whether to obey or to take his chance,
and set spurs to his horse. The clicking of the lock of the pistol,
judiciously timed, brought his doubts to a conclusion, and gave the
preponderance to obedience. He said that he would obey, of course, if
I positively directed him, for that the Duke had given him strict
orders to follow my commands implicitly.
"Extremely well you have obeyed!" cried I; "but, without farther
words, turn your horse up the road, for I am not to be trifled with
any longer."
"Well, well," he replied, as he slowly drew his bridle in the
direction that I pointed out, "it was only for your own good I spoke;
and if you will take a bad and dangerous road, the consequence be upon
your own head."
As I thought that there was no use in driving him to desperation, I
did not choose to let him know how intimately acquainted I was with
the good designs he entertained in my favour; but pausing, pistol in
hand, till I saw him fully launched upon the St. Malo road, I then
wheeled my horse and followed, determined to keep all my discoveries
to my own breast till such time as I could confide them to Monsieur de
Villardin. As soon as I became sure that retreat was impossible, and
that my companion must go forward on the road which I pointed out, I
dropped my hostile attitude, replaced my pistol in the holster, and
joining him again, endeavoured to enter into conversation as if
nothing had happened to disturb our equanimity; but, I believe, in
this I expected more from human nature than human nature could afford;
the man was disappointed of a good thousand crowns, besides what he
had called the pickings of my saddle-bags; and he likewise laboured
under the mortification of having been outwitted and bullied by a mere
boy; so that he well might be, what he really was, savage and sullen
for many miles of the road. In addition to his other causes of wrath,
I soon perceived that he was not without some apprehension that I had
discovered his designs; and I doubted not, that if he could have made
himself perfectly sure that such was the case, he would have soon
brought the matter between us to a struggle for life. I was accustomed
to such things, however, and I did not make myself at all uneasy on
that account; but keeping constantly on my guard,--for there is never
any telling what may happen next in such affairs, I rode on, taking
care that an interval of two or three yards should always exist
between his hand and my bridle-rein; and where the road was not
sufficiently wide enough for that purpose, I made him go on before,
and followed a few steps behind.
That road, however, deserves a fuller description, for it was as
pleasant a road as ever I travelled in my life, excepting a few spots,
of each a mile or a mile and a half in length, where a sandy soil
rendered it heavy and fatiguing. A little beyond the place where we
first entered upon it, a low stone wall marked the ancient boundary of
a forest. Even at that time, however, the large trees had retreated
more than a mile from the extreme limit of the wood; and the space
that intervened between the wall and the real forest, was covered
entirely with the sort of brushwood, or, as the French call it,
_taillis_, which rises on the cutting down of larger timber. This gave
us a fair view of the kind of ground over which the forest extended,
which was of so broken and irregular a nature--full of pits, dells,
banks, and ravines, that it would have required infinite labour to
render it productive of aught but that which then covered it. After
the road began to wind in amongst the higher trees, some of which
appeared of great antiquity, we lost all sight of the surrounding
country, except where, every now and then, the ground had been cleared
by some accidental circumstance, or where the track that we were
pursuing ascended to some commanding height. On these occasions,
indeed, we sometimes obtained a very splendid view beyond the forest,
over tracks of rich and cultivated land; and as I was beginning about
that time to find out that the face of nature was a very beautiful
thing, and to enjoy the aspect of a fine country with a sort of
romantic delight, I often paused to gaze for a moment on any prospect
that thus caught my eye. While thus engaged, my companion generally
rode on in sulky silence; but I never suffered him to go far without
my society, lest any of the roads which intersected the forest, and
which I could not, of course, be expected to know, should afford him
an opportunity of deviating from the prescribed track before I thought
fit to permit him to do so.
I had just made one of these pauses, and my companion had just ridden
on, in the manner which I have described, when, on looking after him
to see how far he had proceeded, I thought I perceived a brighter
gleam of sunshine than usually enlivened the gloom of the wood,
streaming across the road a little beyond the point at which he had
arrived. Suspecting that it might be shining down a cross road, I set
spurs to my horse, and was nearly up with him before he reached the
little brake. I had just time, however, to gain a more accurate
knowledge of the spot, and to perceive that it was a gap, but not a
road, down which the light was streaming, when there came a quick,
bright flash from the wood, and at the same moment the groom fell
headlong to the ground, while his horse dashed on, masterless, along
the track before us, and my charger, after rearing violently, rolled
over, dyeing the sand with its blood.
These sort of surprises are generally followed by a speedy
explanation; and the appearance of four stout, well-dressed,
good-looking gentlemen, with firelocks in their hands, pistols in
their girdles, and swords by their sides, at once gave me a clear
insight into the whole affair. As my poor horse, panting in the
agonies of death, lay heavy upon my foot and ankle, which he had
crushed beneath him in his fall, I was in no condition to offer any
resistance, even had it been wise to do so against such superior
numbers. The groom, indeed, was still less capable of opposing any
measures that our friends with the firelocks might judge expedient, as
the ball, which was probably intended for his horse, had deviated a
little from its course, and gone right through his head. I lay quite
still also, for in all the many conflicts of one kind or another that
I had witnessed, I had always remarked, that men, in working
themselves up to such an action as that which our assailants had just
committed, engender in their own bosoms a great deal more fury than is
at all necessary to the accomplishment of their exact purpose. This
superabundant energy breaks upon the first object opposed to it; but
it soon evaporates, and those who would stab you the moment after they
have fired the gun, or rushed to the charge, will be a great deal
humanised within five minutes after the struggle is over.
The robbers rushed immediately upon the groom like hungry wolves; and
turning him over, for he had fallen upon his face, took a hurried
glance at his countenance. "Diable!" cried one of our assailants, as
they did so, "we have made a mistake, Messieurs. This is not the
courier, after all. Peste! you have killed him, too, Serjeant. Why the
devil did you fire so high?"
"You have done the same for the other, Hubert," replied the one he
addressed.
"I hope not," said the first; "I had his horse fair enough; but let us
see."
On the assurance of these charitable expressions, I ventured a low
groan, which, indeed, had long wanted utterance; for the pain I
suffered by the horse lying on my leg was most intense, especially as
he more than once made a dying effort to start up, and then fell back
again upon me.
"It is a boy," said the leader of the robbers, as they came near. "Art
thou dead or alive, _mon garcon?_"
"Not quite dead," I replied, "but I cannot get up, for the horse is
upon my leg."
"Ah! so I see, poor boy," said the other. "Help us here, Serjeant, and
let us get him out." This was easily accomplished; and finding that I
could not stand with very great ease to myself, I sat down on the
bank, rubbing my leg with both my hands, to recal it to some
sensation, making up my mind, at the same time, to undergo the
interrogatory which I saw was preparing for me.
The leader of the robbers gazed upon me for a moment or two with a
sort of cynical grin, and then, turning to his companions, he
remarked, "He takes it coolly enough, in all conscience. Come, tell
us, who are you, _mon beau page_? and whither you were going?"
"I am the page of Monsieur de Villardin," replied I, "and was going to
his castle of Prés Vallée."
The captain struck the butt of his firelock against the ground with a
movement of impatient vexation. "This is unlucky enough," he said,
"for I certainly did not want to quarrel with Monsieur de
Villardin,--especially as I am such a near neighbour of his," he
added, with a smile; "and pray who is that?" he asked, the next
moment, pointing to the body of the groom.
"That is one of his grooms," replied I, "sent to guide me on the way."
"Worse and worse," cried the captain. "Why the devil, Serjeant, did
you fire so high?"
"It is no great matter," answered I; "he has only shot a great rogue,
who would have lived to be hanged, and whom I had nearly shot myself
on the high road not an hour ago."
"Pardi! thou art a droll youth," rejoined the captain, "and, if thy
tongue do not belie thee, no true Frenchman."
"No, but what is better," replied I, "a true Englishman."
"The better I deny," answered the captain; "but I blame not your bold
love for your country. However, I must see more of you, my gay lad,
before I determine on letting you go; so you will come along with me.
You, Serjeant, bring those saddle-bags; there may be something worth
having within; and you, François and Martin, try if you cannot bury
the man down in the sand-pit yonder; and heave over the horse too, if
you can get it done; but bring up the saddle and bridle, for they are
too good to be lost. Keep a good watch for the courier the while: he
may pass by yet, though it is late. Now, come along, my man," he
continued, turning towards me again; "what, cannot you walk? then,
good faith, you must limp!"
Of course I did as I was directed, and, limping on as well as I was
able, followed my conductor through the wood for nearly a mile; at the
end of which I found myself in the deepest part of the forest, and by
the side of a rapid stream. A little farther up the river, I perceived
the ruins of an antique mill crowning a high bank, with the remains of
the wheel, long broken to pieces, now serving alone to render the
waterfall by which it was formerly turned more picturesque to the eye.
Thither I was led by the robber, and on entering the old building,
found that it was more dilapidated in appearance than in reality; or,
at least, that its present tenants had contrived to render it very
habitable. Three or four more personages, of the same cast as those I
had already encountered, were found within the mill; but still it was
apparent that the man who had conducted me hitherto was captain of the
gang, and he was immediately assailed by a thousand questions
concerning some courier, for whom it was evident these gentlemen had
long been waiting.
My appearance in company with their leader, at first, made them
conclude that the encounter they had been expecting had taken place;
but they were soon undeceived, and my unhappy saddle-bags being
brought in and laid down in the midst, I had the mortification of
seeing more than one rapacious hand thrust into their bowels, while
piece by piece all my wardrobe was drawn forth, and at length my
little store of golden crowns appeared, causing a reflected sparkling
to shine in the robbers' eyes.
"A better day's work than I thought," cried Hubert, their leader;
"now, young gentleman, we are men of honour and humanity, and
therefore we shall let you keep your wardrobe--"
"Except that lace-collar," cried one of his comrades, "which I claim
for myself."--"And that embroidered band," said another, "for which I
have a fancy."--"The pouch for me!" exclaimed a third; and it
certainly seemed that my apparel, as well as my purse, was in a fair
way to change hands. The captain, however, interfered to moderate the
rapacity of his gang, and it was at length determined that not only my
dress, but twenty crowns, which happened to be in my purse, should be
left me. My saddle, bridle, and horse equipments, together with my
silver-mounted pistols, became the property of the captain; and the
only remaining question between us was, in regard to the packet of
letters and orders with which Monsieur de Villardin had charged me for
his farmers and agents in Brittany. These were wrapped up in a skin of
leather to keep them from injury; but as soon as Master Hubert had
satisfied himself that nothing but written papers were to be found
within, he returned the bundle to me, saying, that he would not
interfere with the discharge of my duty.
I was in hopes that this was but a prelude to my being set at liberty;
but the captain did not suffer me to remain long in suspense,
informing me candidly enough that I must stay with them a day or two;
for that they had yet a coup-de-main to perform, which they trusted
would enrich them sufficiently to render it both wise and expedient to
change their lodging. "As soon as that is accomplished," he added, "we
will despatch you upon your journey, but in the meantime we do not
choose to trust to that quick tongue of yours."
As there was no help for it, I of course offered no resistance, very
well understanding that the coup-de-main to which the captain alluded,
was the contemplated attack upon the unfortunate courier from Paris to
St. Malo, whose appearance, I had heard at the last inn, was daily
expected. He did not show himself, however, so soon as had been
anticipated, and I remained several days at the old mill, very well
contented with the treatment I received from my new companions, who
certainly lived upon the fat of the land, and seemed not to suffer any
remembrance of the means by which it was acquired, at all to trouble
its digestion. I acknowledge, too, that if I could have escaped the
honour and reputation of the thing, I would very willingly have shared
in some of their adventures; and I began to think that the profession
of a robber, if properly conducted, might afford a very attractive
sort of life.
Hubert, the captain of my new friends, was a man of a very intelligent
and inquiring mind; and from the information I could give him in
regard to the state of affairs in Paris, took great pleasure in my
conversation. Nor did his questions alone refer to his own country,
but one night he so besieged me with inquiries concerning England, its
manners, customs, produce, trade, and situation, that I ended by
asking him in return, if he thought of taking a trip to exercise his
abilities in that country.
"Not, at least, in the manner which you suppose," replied he; and
then, looking over his shoulder to see that all his companions were
absent, he added, "you do not think, my boy, that my state of life has
never been different from that which you now witness, or that this
trade is to continue always?"
"No," replied I, quietly, "for it usually ends very speedily--at the
gallows."
"It will not end so with me," answered the captain, somewhat fiercely;
but the next moment his face again took on a smile, and he added,
"this adventure, with what we have amassed already, will make my
fortune sufficient to embark in a different speculation. The fellows
who are with me may carry on their old trade if they like, but, for my
part, I have had enough of it."
"I think you are very right," I replied; "it is always as well to
leave off while the play is good."
"True," answered he; "but I have one warning to give you, my good
youth. If, in the course of your life hereafter, you should ever meet
me in a different station from that in which you now see me--such a
thing may happen you know--and if ever you do, take good care that
your memory be not too retentive, for if, by either word or look, you
pretend to recognise me, I shall certainly remember my old profession
likewise, and take care to keep you silent by sending a ball through
your head."
Though he looked very fierce as he spoke, I only laughed at his
menace, asking him what benefit would accrue to me by betraying him.
"I do not know--I do not know," he replied; "but you are warned; and
so beware."
As we were engaged in such familiar conversation, I would fain have
asked him what sort of connexion could exist between him and Monsieur
de Villardin; but, reflecting that he might think the question
somewhat impertinent, and thence argue no great discretion on my part
for the future, I thought it most prudent to be silent, lest he should
take means to put it out of my power either to ask more questions at
the time, or make any observations at an after period.
Four days more passed without the appearance of the courier; and the
robbers beginning to be apprehensive of his having taken another road,
sent out to obtain intelligence, as their stock of wine and provisions
gave signs of waxing low. Their messengers soon returned, but what
tidings they brought I know not. Most probably their report went to
show that the courier had arrived at the next town, and would be
accompanied through the forest by an escort; for, almost immediately
after their return, the whole band, in all nine men, set off, armed up
to the teeth, taking care, in the first place, to lock me into a room
which had no chimney, and was ventilated merely by a narrow window
through which I certainly could not thrust my head.
They were absent about an hour; and as the wind set from the side of
the high road, in less than twenty minutes after their departure I
heard two smart vollies of musketry, followed by a few dropping shots.
I looked out eagerly as far as my confined casement would allow me,
and at length beheld Hubert with only four of his companions on their
legs, bearing along in their arms a sixth person, who seemed to be
very dangerously wounded. He died, however, before he reached the
mill; and the others, laying him down on the grass, came onward with a
small leathern valise, which, by the manner in which they carried it,
I judged to be very weighty. Their arrival was followed by long and
eager conversations, and a great deal of hurry and noise, but to what
all this bustle referred I do not know, as they did not think fit to
let me out of durance for nearly three hours. During that time, I saw
from the window nine of the horses which they possessed brought out,
of which six were instantly saddled, and loaded with a portion of
their moveables.
As soon as this was complete, to my surprise I beheld the captain come
out, and, after shooting upon the spot the three horses that remained
unsaddled, mount, together with his four men, apparently in order to
depart. My first thought was that they were about to leave me shut up
where I was, and I looked round for the means of forcing open the door
when they were gone; but the moment after, as I turned towards the
casement, in order to observe their further proceedings, Hubert called
to me to draw back from the window; and, as I obeyed, he threw in,
through the aperture, the key of the room in which I was confined. As
I stooped to pick it up, I heard the sound of their horses' feet
galloping away; and before I had opened the door, and arrived at the
bank of the stream, the last horseman of the five was out of sight,
though, with greater consideration than I had any reason to expect,
they had left a horse saddled at the door for my use.
CHAPTER XII.
When my worthy acquaintance Hubert and his companions had departed in
the manner I have described in the last chapter, I had time to look
round me, and consider both my own situation and theirs who had just
left me.
From everything I had seen I could not doubt that the encounter with
the courier and his escort had taken place, and that the robbers had
proved successful. It was evident, however, that the struggle had been
severe; and from the slaughter of three of their horses, as well as
from their leaving a fourth for myself, I was led to conclude that
four of the gang had perished in the affray. At all events, no doubt
could exist as to their having left their late dwelling for ever; and
I certainly was not a little obliged to them for the care which they
had taken to provide me with the means of pursuing my journey.
Nevertheless, I judged that it might be expedient to examine their
habitation and its vicinity thoroughly before I quitted it; and, on
doing so, I found that in the hurry of their departure they had left
behind them my own saddle and accoutrements, which I instantly placed
upon the horse instead of those with which they had furnished him, not
knowing how far the fact of sitting in a thief's saddle might not
compromise me with those who might chance to be in pursuit of the
thief. Having added my own peculiar saddlebags to the load of my
charger, I took such a general survey of the ground and the road which
led to it as might be useful afterwards, and, bidding farewell to the
old mill, made the best of my way back to the high road. As I never
forgot a path that I had once travelled, I had no difficulty in
retracing my steps to the exact point at which I had fallen into the
hands of the robbers, and gladly found myself once more on the road
towards St. Malo, free from any apprehension of fresh interruption.
The affray, however, with the courier and his escort, must have taken
place farther up the road, for it could not have failed to have left
bloody traces wherever it occurred; and I met with none such in my
onward journey, which I now pursued in the same direction that I had
been following when I was interrupted. To tell the truth, I was not at
all sorry to have no direct knowledge of the affair, for in these
cases concealment is almost as bad as the crime itself, and it must be
remembered that I was not in a situation to put my head willingly into
the jaws of justice. I was, therefore, well contented that the robbery
of the courier, and the murder of his escort, had passed totally
without my personal cognisance, although I had no doubt whatever of
the facts. To put myself as far, too, from the scene as possible, I
galloped on pretty quickly till I came to a carrefour, where the road
I was pursuing was crossed by that from St. Aubin to Rennes. It was at
the distance of at least ten miles from the scene of my late
adventures; and as I came up to it I perceived, seated on the little
mound of earth at the foot of the guide-post, a man in the dress of a
pedlar, with his box of wares laid down by his side. At first he was
turned in such a manner as to prevent me from seeing his face; but the
sound of my horses' feet causing him to look round, he displayed a
countenance garnished with a long black beard, an ornament which at
that time was beginning to fall into great disrepute throughout all
civilized Europe--so much so, indeed, that no such thing was to be
seen in all France, except perhaps on the faces of Jews and Capuchins,
and a few which had descended from the reign of Henri Quatre, and
were, I suppose, valued by their owners on the score of their
antiquity.
The one before me at present was voluminous and massy; but,
nevertheless, it did not serve to conceal from me the identity of the
wearer with an acquaintance whose face had boasted no such appendage a
fortnight before. I affected not to recognise him, however, and,
dismounting from my horse--which instantly betrayed its ancient habits
by browsing the roadside--I sat down on the same mound with the other
traveller, and began conversing with him as a peddling Jew. He spoke
learnedly and lamentably upon the evils and inconveniences of his own
profession, and ended by moralising so sagely upon the necessity of
bearing our own portion of ills with constancy and calmness, that I
could not help exclaiming, "Ah! my dear philosopher, you are now quite
complete: when I knew you on the Quai des Orfèvres you wanted nothing
of Socrates but the beard."
Jacques Marlot shook his head. "Can your eyes see through stone walls,
little serpent," he cried; "but remark what your good crowns have done
for me; procured me this box of trumpery, and a beard that is worth
half the money."
"I am heartily glad to see you so well equipped," replied I; "although
your imprudence, joined to my own, had very nearly procured me a
journey to the Bastile, and has actually caused me to be stripped of a
thousand crowns." I then related to the ci-devant printer all that had
occurred to me since we last met, and I was glad to find that he
sincerely felt for all the inconveniences I had suffered, and pressed
me to take back again the sum of five crowns, which was all that he
had remaining of the thirty I had given him. He declared at the same
time that he himself could do very well without, for that the contents
of his box, assisted by a fluent tongue and the gullibility of the
peasantry, had proved quite sufficient, since he began his new trade,
to maintain him as well as he could desire, though, to say the truth,
his taste for the good things of life was not the most moderate.
I refused to accept his offer, of course, telling him that money was
quite unnecessary to me, as I counted upon reaching the castle of
Monsieur de Villardin in less than an hour.
"You are quite mistaken, my son," he replied; "whether you mean his
castle of the Prés Vallée, or that of Dumont; the first being at the
distance of at least twenty, and the latter nearly forty miles from
the place where we now stand."
This intelligence surprised me a good deal, as I found that I had
entirely miscalculated my situation, and had mistaken my road. Jacques
Marlot, however, who, as well as his uncle, good Jerome Laborde, was a
native of the country, and acquainted with every rood of ground round
about, undertook to guide me on my way, and, walking my horse by his
side as he trudged on, we arrived within a few miles of Rennes that
night. The next morning, after sleeping in one of the neighbouring
villages, we separated, he intending to proceed to St. Malo, to carry
on his traffic with any of the seamen arriving from foreign ports, and
I turned my steps in the direction of the Prés Vallée, to which he
pointed out the road.
No farther accident or adventure occurred to delay my arrival, and,
about ten o'clock in the morning, I reached the place of my
destination. Here I was received with all due deference by the
domestics who tenanted the house, and delivered all the letters which
I bore to the farmers and receivers of Monsieur de Villardin.
Nothing could be more beautiful, though nothing could be more solemn,
than the aspect of the castle, and the scene that surrounded it. It
was a fortified house, of no great military strength, situated on a
slight eminence, rising above the vast rich meadows that stretch for
many miles along the borders of the Vilaine. These meadows were
broken--for I cannot call it separated--by large belts of magnificent
forest trees, which seemed to owe their planting to the hand of nature
rather than to that of man, but which, nevertheless, had been so
skilfully thinned, that the boughs of one never interfered with the
boughs of another; and each grew up in liberty, protecting, as it
were, under its branches, its own particular domain, without
infringing upon the bounds of its neighbour. Each of these belts
varied in shape and distribution; but each left from fifty to sixty
acres of pasture ground clear and open within its circuit, with the
river generally forming the boundary on one side, and the trees
sweeping round on every other, so that each meadow seemed to be a spot
of rich ground which had been cleared and cultivated ages ago, in the
midst of a vast forest, the trees of which were still standing around.
In fact, a person placed in the centre of any of these open spaces,
saw nothing but wood beyond the meadow that surrounded him, till,
walking on for a minute or two, under the shade of gigantic elms and
oaks, he entered another wide pasture field like that he had just
left.
The effect of the whole would have been gloomy, had it not been
enlivened by the frequent turns of the river, and the sight of cattle
and sheep feeding in the various savannahs, under the charge of their
several herds, who most frequently were found cheering their
occupation with a song. There was something calm, and simple, and
patriarchal in the whole scene, which struck me greatly as I passed
through it; and I could have fancied myself removed by thousands of
years and thousands of miles from the countries and the times through
which I had lately been moving.
The castle itself, built of cold grey stone, and covered in several
parts with ivy, was in perfect harmony with everything around it; and
the good taste of Monsieur de Villardin, who entered fully into the
peculiar character of the scene, had left all the furniture and
decorations of the house--which were rich and good, though in antique
style and form--exactly as they had come into his possession.
As I propose to write down in this book the changes of my disposition
and character as I advanced through life, as well as the various turns
of fortune that attended me in my progress through the world, I must
pause for a moment to speak of that which was passing within my own
heart, while the events which I have described were working out my
general fate.
A new spirit was about this time beginning to spring up in my bosom,
and a taste for things that I never before enjoyed was every day
developing itself more and more. Whether it was that Lord Masterton
had first called my attention to the beauties of nature, or whether it
was that before my acquaintance with him I never had time to think of
them, I cannot tell; but certainly I began to feel a delight in the
aspect of such scenes as the Prés Vallée, which formerly I had never
experienced; and during the first two or three days, I fancied that I
could remain there alone for ever.
I had not yet learned, it is true, to examine very closely what I
felt, but I remember at the time thinking it strange, that whereas not
two years before I could have passed through the fairest scenes in
nature without giving them any particular attention, unless they were
lighted up by pike and gun, I now stopped to gaze, without well
knowing why, whenever anything that was fair or sweet met my eye. I
might not, indeed, look at Nature's face with the feelings of a
painter or of a poet; but I certainly did begin to experience great
pleasure in the contemplation of a beautiful prospect, and would turn
away when I had done so, pleased, but thoughtful,--I might almost say,
sad.
I felt this more than I had ever felt it before in the solitude of my
new dwelling, and many an hour I passed away in various sylvan sports,
which, while they gave me active employment, still led me into the
fairest scenes in the country round.
Nevertheless, I found myself bound in duty to Monsieur de Villardin to
make him acquainted with all the incidents of my journey; and though
at that time I loved not sitting at a desk, even as long as was
required to write a short letter, yet, forcing myself to the task with
a great effort, I detailed everything that had occurred to me, and
despatched the epistle to St. Aubin,--for I would not trust it at
Rennes--to go by the next ordinary courier to Paris. Nothing happened
to disturb my tranquillity for the ten days that followed, and I
remained fishing in the streams, or shooting the wolves and the boars,
with very little intermission. On one occasion, indeed, having a
letter to deliver from the Duke to his intendant at his other estate
of Dumont, I rode over thither, and found a very different scene from
that presented by the Prés Vallée--rocks and mountains, and streams
and waterfalls, with a modern house, modern alleys, modern bridges,
and modern furniture. In the mood which then possessed me, however, the
Prés Vallée was more to my taste, and I returned to its calm shades as
soon as possible, leaving the letter to be delivered to the intendant,
who was absent at the time of my arrival.
At the end of ten days a courier reached the Prés Vallée from Paris,
bringing a large packet addressed to myself, on opening which I found
a short letter from Monsieur de Villardin, directing me to wait for a
fortnight longer in Brittany for the purpose of bringing up the rents
of several of his farms, and referring to another more voluminous
paper contained in the same packet, which, as I soon perceived,
expressed the will and pleasure of the King that no proceedings should
take place against John Marston Hall, for the rescue of a prisoner
from the hands of the criminal lieutenant, and authorized him to plead
the royal grace and pardon in all matters referring thereto.
This, as may well be supposed, afforded a great relief to my mind, for
it was by no means pleasant to go about the world with the fear of the
Bastile hanging about the neck of one's imagination. Although I had
now no apprehensions from the pursuit of justice, I soon began to feel
the solitude of the Prés Vallée less delightful than it had seemed at
first; and though, had there been any one to share my sports, or to
occupy my time, I should still have enjoyed it much; yet the hours
gradually became somewhat tiresome, shut up in an old castle, with
nothing but solemn woods around one, and a library of old books for my
sole companions. I now, however, found the Latin with which Lord
Masterton had furnished me turn to some account; and after having read
Ovid two or three times through, I dipped into Lucan, and pored over
several other books, in order to while away the evenings.
At length, with infinite joy, I heard that the rents were all paid
into the hands of the intendant, with the exception of a small sum,
which was expected the next day; and I directed the courier, who had
remained for the purpose of returning with me to Paris, to prepare for
our journey on the third day. Scarcely had I given the order, however,
when a letter reached me, brought by the King's ordinary to Rennes. It
was in the hand-writing of Monsieur de Villardin, and contained but a
few words, which were evidently written under feelings of agitation or
haste. In this billet, for letter I can scarcely call it, he directed
me to forbear my journey, as he himself and his whole household would
be at the Prés Vallée in six days from the date of his letter; and he
then went on to bid me communicate this fact to the various domestics
in the château, in order that it might be prepared, as usual, for his
reception.
This change of destination was not unpleasant to me, for all I now
wanted was society and occupation; and, prevented as I had been, by my
youth and my English birth, from entering into the debaucheries or
factions of Paris, its routine had become wearisome to me even before
I quitted it. All was now bustle in the château. As the autumn was
coming on, fires were lighted in every apartment, and busy hands were
engaged in removing the dust which, during the last two years, had
accumulated in the untenanted rooms. My solitary residence of a month
in the midst of such scenes as those around me had, I believe, done
more to call forth whatever portion of imagination entered into the
composition of John Marston Hall than all the events of his former
life. Lord Masterton, as I had before said, had done a good deal, it
is true; but even when I quitted him, my great thirst was for action,
not for thought. Now a new ingredient seemed mingling with my nature:
I began to view the things around me in a different light; and though
I would fain have had some one to converse with, yet I could dream
even alone. Thus, during the next two or three days, when the evening
had closed in, and I was left in the old library by myself, after
reading for an hour or two, I would rise, and without a candle, wander
through all the dim vast halls and gloomy chambers of the Prés Vallée,
watching the flickering light of the fires, kindled in each chamber to
scare away the damp, as the flame flashed faintly from time to time
upon the rich arras and dark hangings, and dreaming all the time of
heaven knows what compound of scenes and adventures which those
chambers might have witnessed in times past.
My conduct in these respects, indeed, was somewhat strangely
misconstrued by an old female domestic who always remained in the
house; but as the misconstruction was all to my advantage, I had no
reason to complain. By a little civility and kindness, I had
established with her the character of a complete ph[oe]nix of pages;
and I afterwards found that old Marguerite assured Madame de
Villardin, on her arrival, that I had every night made a complete tour
of the château to see that the fires were burning, and the rooms
properly aired. At length, after waiting two days in hourly
expectation of the coming of Monsieur de Villardin, an avant-courier
arrived, and in about two hours more the cavalcade appeared in the
avenue. In Paris, where one never saw the whole household of the Duke
collected, one was not aware of the numbers it contained; but now,
when two carriages, each containing eight people, and drawn by six
horses, were followed up to the gates by twenty-four horsemen, one
begun to have a much more respectful idea of Monsieur de Villardin's
establishment than one had formerly entertained. The Duke himself was
on horseback; and, springing to the ground the first, he gave his hand
to the Duchess, who appeared to me pale and languid. Both spoke kindly
to me: but I could clearly perceive that something was wrong in the
domestic comfort of the family; and I soon found that the defects of
Monsieur de Villardin's temper and character had not been greatly
improved since I had left Paris. Old Jerome Laborde was my principal
oracle in these matters, and from him I learned, that for some weeks
the Duchess had been very gay in the capital; had been out
continually, except when she received company at home, and had been
universally admired and praised. All this had been less agreeable to
Monsieur de Villardin than it might have been to a man of a more happy
disposition; and after becoming irritable and morose in a considerable
degree, he had suddenly announced his determination of retiring to
Brittany.
Madame de Villardin, unconscious of offence herself, and, as most
women do, mistaking her husband's character, endeavoured to argue him
out of his resolution. A discussion ensued, the particulars of which
did not transpire, even to the all inquiring ears of soubrettes and
valets de chambre; but the whole household perceived that it must have
been bitter and severe, for when it was over, Madame de Villardin was
found fainting, and bathed in tears. The arrangements for departure
were hurried from that moment: and before three days were over, the
whole party were on their way to the Prés Vallée.
As the old man told me this story spontaneously, I thought I might, at
least, venture to ask whether he believed the Duke to have any real
cause for the jealousy that he evidently felt.
"None on earth," replied the major-domo. "My lady is gay and lively,
and loves well enough to be admired: but she loves my lord dearly, we
are all convinced; and, depend upon it, no woman ever went astray yet
without the servants finding it out."
CHAPTER XIII.
For a time, the change produced on the domestic affairs of Monsieur de
Villardin, by his retirement from Paris, was a great improvement. The
Duke seemed to feel himself more at ease in the country than the
description of good Jerome Laborde permitted me to believe he had been
in the town; and Madame de Villardin, like a wise woman, making up her
mind to what she could not avoid, seemed determined to dedicate
herself wholly to rural occupations and to the wife's first task of
making his home comfortable and tranquil to her husband. Matters thus
soon assumed a new aspect. Monsieur de Villardin, who was naturally of
a warm and affectionate disposition, gave way fully to all the better
feelings of his heart; and I have never seen a more happy household
than that which, for the month that followed, was presented by the
château of the Prés Vallée, although Madame de Villardin herself had
become far more grave and matronly than she had appeared in Paris. The
Duke, with the natural eagerness and activity of his disposition, was,
of course, obliged to find himself constant employment; but to a man
so fond of field sports as he was, the country around us presented an
unfailing source of amusement. Now it was a fishing party, now it was
an expedition against the stags, the boars, or the wolves; now it was
a walk to bring home a chevreuil, which furnished us with the day's
entertainment; and, on most of these occasions, I was glad to find
that Madame de Villardin, at her own request, accompanied her husband.
For my part, the whole was joy and satisfaction to me; for it was
evident, that all those whose affections I coveted were daily growing
more fond of me: the Duke was never tired of praising my method of
conducting their sports; Madame de Villardin seemed to take a delight
in seeing me play with her little girl; the servants, who were sure to
meet all good offices and no evil ones from my hands, found a great
difference between myself and such pages as they were accustomed to
encounter, with whom the ordinary domestics of a house are generally
in a state of open warfare. The two younger pages themselves were my
pets and my protégés; and the only one who hated me, with a tolerable
degree of malevolence, was my first enemy, Master Gaspard de
Belleville, whose fear was the only restraint upon his animosity.
Certain it is, that his dislike was not particularly diminished during
our stay at the Prés Vallée. The increasing regard and confidence of
our mutual lord towards myself, the frequent rebukes and
mortifications that his awkwardness and inactivity in all our field
sports called upon himself, as well as the total disregard with which
I treated him, all served to increase and cultivate his original
distaste towards me. It is true he never dared to show his hatred in
such a manner as to give me an excuse for resenting it; but it peeped
out in a thousand little words and actions, amongst which, one of the
pettiest, but one which first showed his feelings, was a habit which
he had of never calling me by my name when speaking of me to others,
but always designating me--l'Anglais--l'Etranger,--the Englishman--the
Foreigner. For all this I was very easily consoled, and indeed
scarcely noticed it at all. Monsieur de Villardin, however, himself
took notice of the latter circumstance I have mentioned, and one day
sharply reproved him for not speaking of me by my name. "Call him,
sir," he said, "by his proper appellation,--Monsieur Hall; and
remember that he is better born, as well as better educated, than
yourself."
Of another, and far more serious trait of his ill will towards myself,
I received, about this time, proofs quite sufficient to satisfy
myself, though perhaps they were not quite irrefragable.
Shortly after the arrival of the family at the Prés Vallée, the Duke
took me out with him alone; and causing me to walk by his side, made
me give him a far more full and detailed account of all my adventures
on the road than I had been able to do by letter. When I had done, he
asked me if I had been imprudent enough, before quitting Paris, to
acknowledge to any one but himself the share I had had in the
liberation of Jacques Marlot.
"To no one, I assure you, my lord," I replied; "even to his own uncle,
Jerome Laborde, I never mentioned the facts; merely telling him--to
quiet the old man's mind--that I had heard his nephew had been
liberated, without adding one word which could induce him to believe
that I had any share in the transaction."
"It is very extraordinary, indeed," said the Duke in reply; "but it is
an undoubted fact, that between the time of your aiding to rescue the
prisoner and my visit to the Hotel de Bouillon that night, the police
had obtained the most perfect account of your person, appearance,
dress, and situation. Can you remember," he added, "whether there was
any one present when you related the circumstances to me?"
"No one, my lord," I replied, "as you may remember, but Gaspard de
Belleville."
Monsieur de Villardin shook his head. "Indeed!" he said; "Indeed! Yet
I cannot believe the boy would be either so base or so foolish as to
betray such a conversation. However," he added, changing the subject
abruptly, "of course, as you have suffered robbery while engaged in my
service, I shall not allow you to lose by anything of the kind. The
sum which was taken from you shall be repaid to you as soon as we
return home; and, in the meantime, do not let any suspicion of Gaspard
appear in your behaviour towards him."
"There exists so very little communication between us, my lord," I
replied, "on any subject, that there is no fear of my betraying any
such feeling; and certainly, more than ever, I shall take care to
conceal it, since you desire me to do so."
The same evening, the Duke gave me an order upon his intendant for the
full sum which I had lost; and, as a still greater proof of his
regard, ordered an apartment in the immediate vicinity of his own,
consisting of two very comfortable chambers, to be prepared for my
sole use.
This state of things had continued about a month, when a rumour became
prevalent in our little world that the Duchess was again pregnant;
and, about the same time, after a deep and fearful fit of gloom, of
which no one understood the cause, Monsieur de Villardin shut himself
up almost entirely in his library and his bedchamber, and was hardly
seen by anybody for several days. Madame de Villardin, too, was
observed several times in tears, and everything appeared once more to
be going wrong in the family. At the end of a few days, however, a
change was wrought in the Duke himself, apparently by the exhortations
of his confessor, who was frequently with him for several hours at a
time. Of this excellent man I shall have occasion to speak more
hereafter; and here it is only necessary to say, that the influence he
possessed over the mind of Monsieur de Villardin was at all times
extraordinary. His usual residence was at Rennes, and consequently he
had not seen the Duke for more than two years: but his authority did
not seem to have been at all shaken, nor the bold tone of his reproof
at all softened by absence; for I remember once, on passing the
library door, which was ajar, having unwillingly overheard him myself
tax his penitent with absolute madness. However that might be, the
Duke very soon resumed his usual habits; and it appeared to me that he
endeavoured, by increased kindness, to efface from the mind of the
Duchess whatever effect any harshness he had shown her might have
produced. Most gladly did she seem to catch at every renewed proof of
his affection; and the happiness of the family was again apparently
restored for the time, when one morning, as we were about to set out
to hunt in the neighbourhood, the young Count de Mesnil, who had
rescued the Duke out of the hands of the butchers in Paris, and who
had since been a frequent visiter at his house, rode up to the gates,
and was received with a joyous welcome by both the Duke and his lady.
He, like Monsieur de Villardin, had come into Brittany to spend some
time on his estates; and as his dwelling was within seven miles of the
Prés Vallée, his visits soon became very nearly as frequent as they
had been in Paris.
At first the natural bent of Madame de Villardin's disposition led her
into some of those little acts of gaiety and display from which a
habitual love of admiration rendered it almost impossible for her to
refrain; but very soon, and somewhat suddenly, her manner towards the
young Count assumed an air of great coldness; and I easily divined the
cause both of this change and of the great affection which Monsieur de
Mesnil appeared to feel for the lord and family of the Prés Vallée.
Strange to say, Monsieur de Villardin, awake to the slightest word in
other instances, and suspicious where there was no cause, was in the
present case totally blind, long after Madame de Villardin herself had
become aware of the designs of their visiter. He had known the Count
de Mesnil as a mere boy, and he still looked upon him as such. This
might be one cause of his blindness; but, in truth, I believe, there
is also a sort of fatality in such cases, or rather a madness, which,
to a suspicious mind, makes truth look like falsehood, and falsehood
appear to be truth. I felt very much for Madame de Villardin, whose
situation appeared to be painful in the extreme; and whose conduct
towards the Count de Mesnil, as far, at least, as I could see, was now
faultless; but, of course, I dared not say a word to open the eyes of
my lord upon such a subject, without having some decided fact to
warrant my interference.
In this state of affairs, nearly two months more passed over our
heads, without any circumstance occurring to change my own situation
or that of the other parties; Monsieur de Villardin continuing
extremely partial to the society of his young neighbour, and the
Duchess, on the contrary, treating him with a degree of cold
haughtiness which approached towards rudeness. At length, one morning,
shortly after the Count de Mesnil, who had been upon a visit at the
Prés Vallée, had left the house, in order, as it seemed, to return
home, Monsieur de Villardin set out on horseback, intending to proceed
to Rennes, accompanied by myself, Gaspard de Belleville, and one or
two grooms. When we were about a mile and a half from the château,
however, he suddenly remembered that a packet, referring to the
business which called him to the city, had been left on the table of
his library; and, as it was of some importance, he directed me to ride
back and bring it to him at Rennes. I accordingly lost no time in
returning to the Prés Vallée; but was somewhat surprised, when about
half a mile from the house, to remark a horse, which I very well
recognised as that of the Count de Mesnil, tied to one of the old
trees which I have before described. I had taken a short cut across
the meadows, which deviation from the high road had led me through a
part of the grounds that, lying at a distance from any of the ordinary
paths, was generally very lonely: but, in truth, when I beheld this
sight, I wished that I had pursued any other way; for I apprehended,
and not without cause, that I might soon be placed in one of the most
painful situations that it is possible to conceive. I had, however,
but one task to perform--to do the errand on which I was sent; but, in
order to see as little as possible, I rode to the back of the château,
and, entering from the offices, went up by one of the back staircases
into the library. That room, however, opened again into the small
saloon, and the door by which I entered fronted the other, which was
unclosed, and exactly opposite to which, on the wall of the saloon,
was hung a large Venetian mirror in a silver frame. The moment I
entered, I heard voices, and my eye involuntarily rested on the
mirror, in which I beheld the reflection of two figures; that of the
Duchess with her back to the glass, so that I could not see the
expression of her countenance, and that of Monsieur de Mesnil,
kneeling at her feet, and holding her hand with some degree of force
in his own, while he pressed his lips upon it.
Although, as I have said, I could not see the face of the Duchess, her
words, and the tone in which they were pronounced, were quite
sufficient to show me that she was repelling indignantly the grossest
insult that woman can receive from man.
"If you do not instantly quit me, sir," she exclaimed in a loud and
vehement voice, "I will call those who can and will protect me against
your daring insolence. Rise, sir, rise: I do not know which is the
most to be despised, your affectation of love for a woman you insult,
or your hypocrisy in pretending friendship for the man you endeavour
to wrong."
The Count was not without all those ordinary arguments on the subject,
by which men furnish women, who are already inclined to degrade
themselves, with excuses for so doing; I did not allow him time,
however, to make much use of his oratory; but by oversetting one of
the tables in the library, gave him intimation that some one was near.
Immediate and not very dignified flight was his resource, and taking
his way through another door, he left the Duchess without any great
ceremony in bidding her adieu. As I saw her approaching the library, I
also made my escape by the back staircase as rapidly as if I had been
upon some furtive expedition. The truth is, that my mind, for the
first time in my life, I believe, was not made up how to act; and I
did not wish to encounter Madame de Villardin until I had formed my
determination. I had also obtained the packet for which I was sent, so
that I had no cause to stay longer; and, mounting again in the back
court, I rode forward towards Rennes.
Although I knew that Monsieur de Villardin waited for the papers, my
pace was slow I confess; for I was embarrassed with meditations, which
were not easily brought to an end. Had I been sure that the Duchess
would have told her own story to her husband, I might have held my
peace, and suffered the matter to take its course; but I clearly saw
that the causeless jealousy of Monsieur de Villardin himself had so
greatly alarmed his wife, that it was very doubtful whether she would
open his eyes to the perfidy of his friend, not knowing what strange
and violent effect the communication might produce. At the same time I
remembered the promise I had made, never to see him wronged, without
making him aware of the fact; but though this promise was decided, yet
I felt afraid to perform it, and was long in considering how I might
do so in such a manner as to fulfil my duty, and yet to guard against
the slightest suspicion falling upon his innocent wife. It may be
thought, indeed, that for this purpose, I had nothing to do but to
tell all that I had seen, precisely as I had seen it; but Monsieur de
Villardin was not famous for hearing any one to an end, and I
therefore knew that the effect of the first part of my tale would,
probably, be to prevent his attending to one word of its conclusion.
Eventually, however, I both made up my mind to tell him what I had
witnessed, and fixed upon the means of making him hear me out; and as
soon as this was settled, I put my horse into a gallop, and never
stopped till I was in Rennes.
The business which had taken him to the provincial capital detained
him for several hours, but was ultimately settled to his satisfaction,
and he returned homeward in a happier mood than any I had lately
witnessed. He was more calm and placid than he had been for months,
and met his wife with that confiding and affectionate air, which I
hoped might induce her to open her whole heart to her husband at once.
Had she done so, what misery she would have saved him! but she was too
much afraid of him to act in the only manner that could have rebuked
suspicion for ever. As I was almost constantly, on some excuse or
another, in the saloon or library, I had sufficient opportunity of
watching my lord's countenance, and I scanned it eagerly during the
evening, to see whether the tale had been told. He was so cheerful and
so gay, that his face, like a summer sky, would, in a moment, have
betrayed the slightest cloud that came over him; but the day closed
without any appearing, and it was clear that the Duchess, most weakly,
had determined to conceal the insult offered to her by the Count de
Mesnil from her husband.
The task then lay with me; and when Madame de Villardin had retired
for the night, I entreated the Duke to grant me a few minute's
audience. He first heard my request with a smile, and asked whether
to-morrow would not do as well; but the next moment his demon woke
suddenly up, a cloud came over his brow, and I could see that
suspicion and distrust were once more alive. Starting up, he took one
of the tapers, and beckoning me into the library, which was more
retired and secure than the saloon, he shut the door, and casting
himself into an arm chair, exclaimed, almost fiercely, "Now! boy! Now!
What is it you have to say?"
I saw that he was dreadfully agitated, even by his own imaginations,
for as yet I had not said one word to cause the slightest emotion: but
still, as I have said, he was moved in an extraordinary degree; and I
knew, that unless I took the means on which I had before resolved to
gain an uninterrupted hearing, my story would be cut short in the
midst. Advancing, therefore, as near as I well could, I knelt down
before him, and said, "My lord, I have something to tell you; but you
are so quick, that I am afraid of your not hearing it all. If you will
give me your word of honour that you will hear every word I have to
say without interrupting me, I will go on; but if you will not, I will
hold my tongue, and, on my life, nothing shall ever make me open my
lips."
He repaid me with a fierce glance for the conditions that I made; but
as he knew that I was one to keep my word, he promised most solemnly
to hear me to an end.
"Well then, my lord," I said, "I shall only farther claim, that as you
give credit to one part of my story, so you shall give credit to the
other; for every word that I am about to speak is equally true."
I then proceeded to recount all that I had seen in the morning after
he had sent me back for the papers; and never did I see a more
terrific struggle take place in a human being than that which agitated
him during the recital. When I first spoke of Monsieur de Mesnil's
horse tied to the tree, he had nearly broke forth; and when I came to
relate the scene that first met my eye in the library, he started up
from off his chair with every muscle of his face working under
excessive emotion. He remembered his promise, however; and sitting
down again, covered his eyes with his hand while I proceeded; but as I
concluded with the words which his wife had uttered, he caught me by
the arm, and gazed eagerly in my face, exclaiming--"Ha! did she say
that?"
"On my honour! On my soul, she did," I replied; "as I hope in heaven!"
"Boy, you have saved me!" he exclaimed, sinking back in the chair; and
to my astonishment, I saw a tear rise up in his eye and roll over his
cheek. He brushed it hastily away, and then laying his hand kindly
upon my shoulder, said, "John Marston, you have done your duty well
and nobly, and by taking the means you have to make me hear you out,
you have conferred an obligation on your lord that must never be
forgotten. To a boy of your age I cannot speak as I might to others,
of the vice and evil that reigns amongst our highest dames in Paris;
but let it suffice, that a woman who so degrades herself becomes, to
my mind, a thing of loathing and abhorrence; and if you can conceive
what it is to love with the deepest intensity, you may understand what
it would be to behold the beloved object suddenly change from the
dearest jewel of your heart to the foulest object that earth can
present to your eyes. It is worse, a thousand times, than to see the
blighting change from life to death, but you have saved me; for the
very suspicion of such a thing would be madness.--But you have saved
me; and, after that noble speech, I shall never henceforth entertain a
doubt or a fear."
How deeply, how sadly, he deceived himself, may easily be divined; for
where was there yet a suspicious man that--ever laid aside his
suspicions?
"As to the Count de Mesnil," he added, his lip curling both with scorn
and anger, "I look upon him but as a worm: he is one of the many who
think it honourable, and gay, and brilliant, to act, as she justly
said, the hypocrite and the villain; and is contemptible.
Nevertheless, he must not go unpunished, and must be cared for. On his
account I will speak with you to-morrow; but in the meantime repeat
once more what your lady replied."
I did as he bade me, and he marked every syllable attentively.
"You vary not a word," he said; "and I well know that your honour and
your memory never fail. You have saved me from torments not to be
told, and perhaps from deeds that might have brought greater torments
still; you have acted wisely and nobly, and henceforth I treat you as
my son. Now, leave me, my good boy, and to-morrow by six of the clock
be here in the library, when we will speak of what farther steps are
to be taken in this affair."
I left him without reply, and went to bed, satisfied with my own
conduct, and gratified by the result. The next morning I was in the
library as the clock struck the hour that he had named; but Monsieur
de Villardin was down before me, and had probably been so some time,
as there were several sheets of parchment before him, and he had just
concluded the writing of a paper of some length as I entered. He
looked up with a smile when he perceived me, and said, "General St.
Maur, or, as I believe I ought to call him, Lord Langleigh, informed
me that he and Lord Masterton had, in recompence for the services you
had rendered them, assigned you a sufficient revenue from one of their
farms to maintain you at ease in the station which you are destined to
fill. Pray how much did they thus grant you?"
"A thousand crowns per annum, my lord," replied I; "and, indeed, in
your house I do not know what to do with it."
"Oh, time will teach you plenty of uses for it," answered the Duke;
"and for the service you have rendered me, I am about to add nearly
double what you already possess. There is a small farm, which I bought
lately, near my estates at Dumont, which produces about eighteen
hundred crowns; and besides the farm-house, there is upon it the
dwelling of the former proprietor, whose family is now extinct. It is
called Juvigny. I give it to you for ever, holding only the right of
guardianship over you and it, till you are of age by law to use it
yourself. There are the papers, together with my directions to a
notary in regard to the cession. Bid a groom take them to Rennes, and
bring back the deed drawn up this evening, when I will sign it."
Warmly, most warmly, did I express my gratitude, fancying myself now
richer than princes; for the sum of three thousand crowns per annum
went far beyond any dreams which I yet had of expense. Monsieur de
Villardin smiled at the enthusiasm with which I poured forth the
thanks, and at the ideas I seemed to entertain of the boundlessness of
my wealth.
"Well, well," he said, "you will learn to appreciate it more justly in
time. Go now and give the groom the papers, with particular orders to
bring back the deed to-night, for no one can tell what to-morrow may
bring forth. Return to me as soon as you have given him your
directions."
I immediately obeyed, and choosing one of the grooms who was my more
especial favourite in the family, I gave him the papers, with
injunctions to use all speed and diligence. I then returned to the
library, and found that the Duke had just concluded a billet, on which
he wrote the address of the Count de Mesnil; and after drawing a small
cord of floss silk across the folds, he sealed the ligature at both
ends, and put the note into my hands:--"You will take that," he said,
with a calm smile, "to our good friend the Count de Mesnil; but do not
go till after breakfast, nor let it seem by your manner that there is
anything extraordinary in your mission; for, to my taste, things of
this kind had better always be conducted as quietly as possible.
Deliver it into the Count's own hand, when you have reached his
dwelling, and bring me back his reply."
Of course I very well understood that I was charged with one of those
cartels of mortal defiance which were then so common in every country
of Europe. The matter certainly was nothing new to me, for many a very
trifling dispute had I seen brought to the arbitrement of the sword
when I followed the camp of the Cavaliers; but it did seem strange to
me that the Duke so far departed from the general customs of the day
as to send his defiance by a page, instead of by some man equal in
rank and station to the person for whom it was intended. I found
afterwards, however, that his irritable fear of ridicule, which was
the next prominent characteristic of his mind to its susceptibility of
the slightest suspicion, was the cause of anything that appeared
irregular in his method of proceeding. However that might be, of
course I did not object to the task, though it seemed to me doubtful
how Monsieur de Mesnil would receive such a cartel from a page, and
what might be his treatment of the bearer. Personal risk seldom
entered into my calculation in these matters, and I ordered my horse
to be ready after breakfast, and a groom to be prepared to accompany
me, as gaily as if I had been going upon an errand of pleasure. Before
setting out, however, I had an opportunity of seeing the behaviour of
the Duke towards his wife, and it, I confess, was the first thing that
gave me any pain in the business. It was so gentle, so affectionate,
so different from what it had been on former occasions, that, as the
thought flashed across my mind, that the first day of such tenderness
might be the last of his life, I would have given more than all I had
in the world to have prevented the proposed encounter from taking
place. To do so was, of course, impossible; and accordingly after
breakfast I mounted my horse, and rode away for Mesnil Moray, the
dwelling of Monsieur de Villardin's adversary.
Though I was a little gloomy when I set out, old habits soon got the
better of new feelings, and I readily brought myself to look upon the
affair altogether as one of those matters which every man must
undertake, at least, a hundred times in the course of his life.
"Monsieur de Villardin," I thought, "will fight fifty more, I hope,
before he has done with the sword," and with this consolatory
reflection, I cantered on as fast as I could. Somewhat less than an
hour brought me to the gates of the château; and, on demanding to see
Monsieur de Mesnil, I was instantly admitted to his presence. I
thought he turned rather pale when he saw me, but it might be merely
imaginary; and certainly, throughout the whole, he behaved like a man
of honour and courage. He took the billet, and, cutting the silk, read
it attentively, with a slight frown knitting his brows. He then asked
me in a calm tone, "Do you know the contents of this note, young man?"
The question puzzled me a little, for though I strongly suspected the
general nature of what the billet contained, yet I knew none of the
particulars, and could not even be sure of that which I imagined. I
answered, therefore, that "I did not;" and the Count rejoined,
throwing the note into the fire, "Well, then, as Monsieur de Villardin
has been kind enough to send me an unceremonious request, I will send
him an unceremonious reply. Tell him I will accept his invitation,
with all its particulars, and that I am his very obedient servant. You
may add, I would have written, but that I have a great deal to do
between this and night."
Charged with this ambiguous message, I returned to the Prés Vallée,
and found Monsieur de Villardin playing with his little girl, while
Madame de Villardin was in her own chamber, preparing to go out with
him for a walk.
"Have you brought any note?" he asked me immediately, taking advantage
of his wife's absence, to inquire the result of my embassy in private.
I replied that I had only received a verbal answer: upon which he
formed a pretext to send away the little girl, and made me give him a
detailed account of all that had occurred.
"Well, well," he said, as I concluded, "it is all well. Be prepared to
go out with me at six o'clock to-night, and get a spade and pick-axe
privately from the garden."
I did not well know what to anticipate from these directions, for it
was then in the early part of spring, and at six o'clock the evening
was too far advanced to afford anything like sufficient light for a
fair single combat. Nevertheless, I had, of course, nothing but to
obey; and, slipping out about half past five, I got the tools from the
garden; and after placing them in a spot where they were not likely to
be observed, I returned to the library, where I was very soon joined
by Monsieur de Villardin. His hat and cloak were already there, and I
was just aiding him to put them on, when the groom, who had been
despatched to Rennes, returned with a notary and the papers prepared
for signature. By the calm way with which Monsieur de Villardin took
this interruption, called for lights, heard the papers read, and went
through all the necessary formalities for investing me with the
property which he had bestowed upon me, I easily divined that he had
no fixed appointment for that hour, and began to suspect the real
object of his expedition. When all was concluded, and the notary sent
back under a safe escort, he bade me follow him. We thus issued forth
in the dusk; and having furnished ourselves with the spade and
pick-axe, proceeded a short distance on the road towards Rennes.
"Now, my young friend," he said, at length, "I must trust to your
guidance. I have heard that you never forgot spot, person, or thing,
that you once have seen. Do you think you can now lead me to the tree,
under which Monsieur de Mesnil's horse was tied, when you passed
yesterday morning?"
"I think I can," I replied, "and, certainly, if not to the precise
tree, I can lead you to the next one to it; for there were but two or
three together, and I know the clump well."
When we reached the neighbourhood of the spot, the various objects
around at once recalled to my remembrance which was the tree I sought;
and, having approached it, Monsieur de Villardin measured out a space
of ground beneath its branches about six feet by three, and, causing
me to remove the turf in one piece, we both set vigorously to work,
and, with pick-axe and spade, soon hollowed out a sufficient trench
to contain the body of a man. "If I fall," he said, when we had
concluded our work, "let it be remembered, that I wish this to be
my grave. If I survive I will direct you what to do."
Before leaving the spot, he caused me to carry about a dozen
shovelfuls of the earth away, and cast them into the river, which
flowed at the distance of three or four hundred yards. We then placed
the tools in the grave, and returned to the château, Monsieur de
Villardin directing me previously, to be up by five the next morning,
to saddle his horse with my own hands, and, leaving it prepared in the
stable, to go on to the spot where he had been working, and wait there
for his coming.
The coolness with which he set about all his proceedings, and my
knowledge of his skill as a swordsman, made me feel very confident
that the issue of the combat would be in his favour, although his
adversary was his junior by near twenty years. I had seen so much of
such affairs, too, that I could generally form a very good guess in
regard to the result; and, from all I had observed of Monsieur de
Villardin's conduct during the day, I went to bed with very little
fear for his safety the next morning. I was up at the time prescribed,
saddled the horse as well as I could in utter darkness, and then
walked away to the tree, which I reached just as the first faint gray
of the morning began to mingle with the blackness of night.
When I had waited there about a quarter of an hour, I heard the sound
of a horse's feet, and, a moment after, perceived Monsieur de
Villardin, who sprang to the ground, and, giving me his rein to hold,
only remarked that it was darker than he had expected; although, by
this time, the dawn had made considerable progress. In about five
minutes after, which he spent in selecting a piece of firm dry turf
unencumbered by trees, and fitted, as far as possible, for the sort of
morning's amusement in which he was going to exercise himself, the
sound of another horse's feet was heard, and we were soon joined by
the Count de Mesnil. He was quite alone; and, dismounting at a little
distance, he bowed coldly to Monsieur de Villardin, saying, "As you
requested, sir, I have come alone. You, I see, have brought your
page."
"I did so, sir," replied the Duke, "in the first place, that he might
hold our horses; in the next, that he might aid the survivor in
filling up yon trench," and he pointed to the grave. "He is a boy of
honour and of birth," he added, "and you may trust him fully; but, if
you desire it, I will order him to withdraw."
"Not on my account," replied Monsieur de Mesnil; "I am just as well
pleased that he should be present; though, I must say, that I should
have thought the Duke de Villardin might have found some fitter person
than a page to carry his cartel to the Count de Mesnil."
"I have chosen the method of proceeding I have followed, Monsieur de
Mesnil, not only because I think these things between brave men had
better always be done as quietly as possible, but also, because I
judged it unnecessary that many witnesses should hear me tell you, as
I now do, that I look upon you as a villain, a hypocrite, and a
traitor, devoid of every good feeling but the brute quality of
courage!"
"Enough, enough, sir," cried the Count de Mesnil: "the fewer of such
words as well as the fewer witnesses the better. Where do you take
your ground?"
He then gave me his horse's rein, and Monsieur de Villardin led him to
the spot which he had chosen, made him examine it accurately, to see
that there was no inequality or artifice, and then, drawing his sword,
caused his adversary to measure it with the blade of his own,--which
proved to be nearly an inch longer. On perceiving this difference, the
Count declared that he was perfectly willing to wait, if Monsieur de
Villardin thought fit to send to the castle for a more equal weapon;
but the Duke replied, that he was quite contented with the sword that
he had; and, throwing away his cloak, hat, and coat, took his ground,
and put himself in a posture of defence.
The Count de Mesnil prepared for the combat more slowly. He certainly
evinced no fear; but there were two or three slight traits that I
remarked in his conduct, which induced me to believe that, either from
the consciousness of having wronged his friend, or from feeling
himself inferior in skill and dexterity, he advanced not to the
encounter with the same confidence as that which appeared in the whole
demeanour of Monsieur de Villardin. When the Duke had first referred
to the grave which he had dug the night before, and pointed it out
with his hand, the eye of the young Count strained eagerly upon it for
a moment, and it was evident that the anticipations the sight
naturally called up were felt bitterly. He was pale, too, and though
he spoke firmly and calmly, I perceived that there was a difficulty in
unfastening his cloak, and all the other little preparations, which
spoke a mind intensely occupied with other thoughts. I observed, also,
and it seemed somewhat strange, that he in no degree referred to the
cause of his present hostile opposition to a man who had been so
lately his friend; and indeed it seemed that the few short lines which
Monsieur de Villardin had written had been quite sufficient to explain
all, and to make him feel that amity was changed for ever into
unquenchable hate between them.
At length all was prepared, and the swords of the two combatants
crossed. After a few parades on either part, which served no purpose
but to let each know the skill and peculiar mode of fencing of his
adversary, the assault assumed a more serious character; but still it
appeared that both wished to maintain the defensive, and I plainly saw
that, more than once, the Duke could have wounded or disarmed his
opponent, had he thought fit. In a short time, however, the Count de
Mesnil, who was of a hasty and passionate disposition, and not so old
a soldier as Monsieur de Villardin, became heated in the encounter,
and pressed his antagonist hard, still keeping a wary hand and eye,
but evidently becoming more and more vehement at each pass. At length,
in a furious lunge, by not keeping his right foot quite straight, and
probably more accustomed to the salle d'armes than the green sward, he
slipped, and came upon his knee, perfectly at the mercy of his
adversary. But Monsieur de Villardin, to my surprise, dropped the
point of his sword, bidding him rise.
"I do not take advantage of an accident, sir," he said. The Count
rose, with downcast eyes and a burning cheek, and replied, after a
moment's pause, "I cannot, of course, after this act of generosity,
think----"
"If, sir," said Monsieur de Villardin, cutting him short, "you are
contented to go forth into the world again, as one who bears the name
of villain, and hypocrite, and scoundrel--and, I shall then add,
coward--mount your horse and begone:--if not, resume your place."
The Count's eyes flashed, and the combat was instantly renewed, but
this time with a different result. At the end of four or five passes,
with a movement so rapid that I could scarcely see how it was
effected, though it may be believed I was an eager spectator, Monsieur
de Villardin parried a lunge of his adversary in such a manner as to
leave the whole of the Count's person open. He then lunged in return,
and the next moment the Count de Mesnil was lying prostrate on the
turf. At a sign from the Duke, I threw the bridles of the horses over
a low bough, and ran up to the spot. The fallen man by that time had
raised himself upon one arm, and with the other hand seemed grasping
at the blades of grass; but he spoke not, and his head, drooping
forward, concealed his countenance. "Shall I bring water?" I said;
but, ere time was given for an answer, the strength which had enabled
him to raise himself so far passed away, and with a single groan he
fell back upon the ground and expired.
We stood and gazed upon his still, pale countenance for several
minutes; but it was very evident, from the first look, that his career
was at an end; and, after a pause, the Duke bent over him and opened
his vest. Scarcely a drop of blood had flowed from the wound which
caused his death, although, from the direction it had taken, it seemed
to me that it must have pierced his heart.
"It is over!" said Monsieur de Villardin,--"it is over! yet, put your
hand upon his heart, my boy: see if it beats."
As I opened his shirt to do so, there dropped out a locket, which was
suspended from his neck by a blue riband, and which contained a single
lock of dark hair. As soon as he saw it, the Duke caught it up, and
unfastening the riband, gazed upon the hair for a moment or two with
an eager look. It was certainly the colour to a very shade, of that of
Madame de Villardin; and I instantly saw that the demon had taken
possession of her husband once more. After gazing at the locket for
several minutes, he put it by, and then asked me, sternly, if the man
were dead.
I replied that he certainly was, as far as I could discover. "Then now
to our next task," said the Duke: "bring me yon mantle and coat."
I immediately obeyed, and bringing forward the clothes of the unhappy
Count, I aided in wrapping the body therein; and then, taking the
feet, while the Duke raised the head, we bore the corpse to the grave
that we had dug, and laid it there, without prayer or benediction. We
next placed the hat and sword of the deceased in the earth along with
him; and then, as fast as possible, filled up the pit with mould.
Notwithstanding the quantity of earth I had removed the night before,
there was still more than enough to fill up the grave to the level of
the other ground, and I had four or five shovelfuls more to carry down
and cast into the river. When that was done, however, and the last
spadeful had been disposed of, we laid the turf down again over the
spot; and so carefully had it been removed, that, though the ground
was a little raised, it required some examination to discover where
the aperture had been made.
"A few showers of rain," said the Duke, as he gazed upon the grave,
"will remove every trace."
I replied nothing, but I thought that the rain of many years would
never remove the traces of that morning's work from his heart or from
my memory. In regard to the ground, however, I entertained no
apprehension of its ever being discovered. The young Count himself, in
tying his horse to that tree when he came on his furtive and evil
visit to the dwelling of his friend, had of course selected one of the
most retired spots that he could find; and it was only the accidental
circumstance of my cutting across from the particular point of the
high road where I had left Monsieur de Villardin on the way to Rennes,
that had caused me to discover the charger in that situation. In that
spot, too, the turf was short, and the grass any thing but luxuriant;
so that the shepherds were not likely to lead their flocks thither, at
least till the year was more advanced, by which time all traces of the
grave would be effaced. The only thing now to dispose of was the
horse; and after examining the ground carefully, in order to ascertain
that nothing of any kind had been dropped or forgotten, the Duke
directed me to lead the animal some distance in the way to the Count's
own dwelling, and then turn him loose.
I did as he bade me, leaving Monsieur de Villardin to return to the
castle alone; and, taking the horse by the bridle, I brought it to the
vicinity of the road which led to Mesnil Moray, at a spot about half a
mile from the bridge which crosses the Vilaine. There I gave it the
rein; and, though it had followed as quietly as possible up to that
moment, no sooner did it find itself free, than it darted away as if
it had suddenly become mad. It sprang at once over a fence, and
crossed the high road, taking the direction of its lord's dwelling,
without any regard to path. I climbed up a neighbouring bank to watch
its course for an instant; and, to my surprise, saw it plunge into the
river, and, after sinking down from the force with which it darted in,
rise up again, swim the stream, spring up the bank, and gallop away
across the fields.
There was something awful in the sight; and I could not help thinking,
as the noble horse bounded away, that there was a living witness of
the bloody scene in which I had just taken part, that, could he have
found voice, would have soon called the friends of his fallen lord to
avenge his death.
CHAPTER XIV.
Whatever the Duke himself might feel, I returned home gloomy from my
share in the affair. I sincerely believed, indeed, that I had done
nothing but my duty in informing him of the injury that the Count de
Mesnil had striven to do him, and of the insult that had been offered
to his wife. He, on his part, too, I firmly believe, imagined that he
had done nothing but that which he was bound to do as a soldier and a
man of honour; but still there was something in the whole affair--the
solitary encounter--the grave prepared--the burial in unhallowed
ground, which added to the event all those dark and awful associations
that deprived us of the power of classing it with those common
encounters, with which he and I were both too familiar to remember
them with any great pain when they were over.
A little less than an hour had been consumed in the whole affair, at
least on the part of the Duke, for I had been absent for a much longer
space of time in leading away the horse of the deceased cavalier.
However, as our household was not the most matutinal in the world, few
of the servants were up, even when I returned; and I doubt not that no
one in the whole family but myself had the slightest suspicion that
the Duke had for a moment quitted his own dwelling. Thinking it right
to make a report of what I had done after I had left him, I now went
at once to the library, where I found him, in his robe de chambre,
seated at a table, on which neither books nor papers were opened
before him, but there lay the fatal locket which he had taken from the
person of the Count de Mesnil, and his eyes were fixed steadfastly
upon the lock of dark hair that it contained. He instantly took it up
when I entered, and of course I ventured to make no observation,
though I saw from his haggard look and frowning brow that he was once
more adding the torments of suspicion to the pangs which the fatal
business of that morning had left behind. He listened attentively to
all I had to say, and though he gave a slight shudder when I mentioned
the wild way in which the horse had dashed off towards Mesnel Moray,
he made no farther comment, but waived me to leave him, saying he
would speak with me more another time.
No injunction to secrecy had been laid upon me, but the Duke seemed to
consider it perfectly unnecessary to enjoin me not to reveal the
transactions of which I had been a witness, and in some of which I had
borne a part. As may be well conceived, I never dreamt of such a thing
as babbling, and the matter lay buried as deep and as securely in my
heart as it did in his own. Nobody noticed that I had been out earlier
than usual, and consequently I was subjected to no questions; and the
only single observation referring to the business which I ever heard
in the family, was when the head groom asked the Duke's permission to
take his favourite horse to the farrier at Rennes, arguing that the
animal was ill, from having found him that morning as heated as if he
had come from a gallop.
The household of the Prés Vallée were, indeed, amongst the last to
hear the rumours and inquiries which soon began to spread concerning
the Count de Mesnil. That some accident had happened to him became
evident to his servants and retainers within a short time after his
death had taken place; for although no one had remarked, with any
particular attention, the fact of his having gone out at such an early
hour unaccompanied, supposing him to be engaged in some love intrigue
which did not court witnesses, yet when, in about two hours after, his
horse, masterless and foaming, darted into the court-yard of the
castle, it could no longer be doubted that the adventure of the
morning had terminated ill for the Count. On examining the trappings
and accoutrements of the horse, it was discovered that not only the
girths but the saddle itself was drenched with water, and of course
conjecture was led upon a new and a false train concerning the event
that had occurred. Some, indeed, contended, that the Count had been
killed by robbers or assassins; but the greater part of his followers
believed that, in attempting to swim the river, he had been washed out
of the saddle and drowned. Information, however, was sent immediately
to Rennes; all his relations had notice of what had taken place, and
immediate search and investigation were instituted to discover his
body, and to ascertain the circumstances of his fate. A new light,
however, was thrown upon the business when the papers of the
unfortunate young nobleman were opened by the proper person. It was
then found, by two documents which he had written on the night
previous to the morning of his death, that he had anticipated such an
event, and had made every disposition of his property accordingly. He
referred not, however, in the slightest degree, to the sort of danger
which he apprehended; the cartel of Monsieur de Villardin, which had
probably been couched in terms of bitter reproach, had been destroyed
likewise; and, consequently, imagination had as wide a range as ever.
Still some declared that he had purposely drowned himself, and
certainly the state in which his horse had returned justified the
searches which were made for his body in the river; but others more
wildly contended--as he had taken a road which might, perhaps, have
led him to the forest--that he had been murdered by the robbers who
had so lately attacked and slain one of the royal couriers, with the
three soldiers by whom he had been attended. New perquisitions were
made in the forest. The whole country round about was searched without
effect. Rumours, astonishment, exaggeration, and a thousand falsehoods
and absurdities filled up the next six weeks, and then the whole
gradually faded away, till the nine days' wonder was at an end, and
the death of the young Count de Mesnil became a story to frighten
children.
During the six weeks, however, that the fruitless investigations
continued, gloom and darkness reigned over our dwelling. Deep and
painful were evidently the feelings of the Duke de Villardin in regard
to this event; and a thousand times, I am sure, did he regret that he
had not pursued the usual mode of arranging such encounters, which
would, at least, have spared him every accessary circumstance that now
tormented him from day to day. As a friend of the dead nobleman, he
was frequently consulted upon his affairs, and even in regard to the
search for his body; and every one thought that they were speaking
upon a subject which must interest him, when they detailed to his ears
any of the numerous absurdities that were current in the country
concerning the death of the Count. All this was very terrible; but,
besides all this, there were feelings in the heart of Monsieur de
Villardin which aggravated the regrets consequent upon the deed which
he had committed. He had known the young Count de Mesnil as a boy. He
had known and loved his parents. He had seen him grow up their hope
and joy. He had himself anticipated great things from his early
promise, and yet his had been the hand thus early to lay him low in a
bloody and an unknown grave.
Though sometimes he spoke to me upon the subject when we were
perfectly alone, it was more from various little points in his conduct
than from his own words that I discovered these feelings. So far from
ever going near the spot where the death of the Count de Mesnil had
taken place, he never even, when he could avoid it, rode in that
direction, as if the very wind which blew from the grave wafted fresh
reproaches to his heart. Even in riding to Rennes, the road to which
city passed within half a mile of the spot, if he could possibly
devise any excuse for so doing, he would take the most circuitous
path, to avoid even coming in its neighbourhood.
Nevertheless, whenever he spoke with me upon the subject, he justified
all that he had done, and declared, that were it to do over again, he
would act exactly in the same manner. I saw, too, that unhappily,
there was another feeling in his bosom, which, while it rendered him
more miserable than it is possible to describe, confirmed him in this
impression--I mean the suspicions which had been freshly excited in
regard to his wife, which, as the effect produced upon his mind by my
report of her conversation with Monsieur de Mesnil died away, seemed
to become stronger and stronger every hour. It was long, indeed,
before he again spoke to me on the subject; but twice I saw him with
the locket in his hand, and at other times his eye would rest on the
dark tresses of Madame de Villardin, while I could see plainly that he
was torturing his own heart by comparing them in shade and colour with
the ringlet which that locket contained. A doubt also more dreadful
still, seemed to have taken possession of his mind; at least I argued
so from the following circumstance.
From the various painful feelings connected with the Prés Vallée, he
had determined to change his residence for a time to the château of
Dumont; and he told me that he should despatch me thither before the
rest of the family. The day previous to my departure he sent for me to
speak with him in the saloon, in regard to various matters which were
to be done before his arrival at Dumont. The Duchess and his little
girl were both present; and, after he had concluded his directions,
Madame de Villardin told me that if I would wait a few minutes she
would bring me a billet for her old nurse, who inhabited the castle to
which I was going. I was standing near a window behind the Duke, and
when his wife rose, and proceeded towards her own room to write the
note she had promised,--displaying, as she did so, that alteration in
her figure which denoted her situation,--I saw the eye of her husband
fix upon her with an intensity that seemed scarcely sane. Happily she
did not perceive it, but walked slowly out of the room; and, as soon
as she was gone, Monsieur de Villardin, who seemed to have forgot that
there was any one else present, caught his little girl in his arms,
and kissed her repeatedly, murmuring,--"Thou at least art mine own."
He started when he remembered that I was there, and a quick flush came
over his cheek; but the expression of deep grief, which, I feel sure,
must have been upon my countenance, appeared instantly to calm him,
and, laying his hand affectionately upon my shoulder, he said,--"Thou
art a good youth. When thou hast got this note, go into the park and
wait me there; I wish to speak with thee for some time."
As there is never any telling to what acts of madness or weakness,
folly or meanness, a suspicious nature will not reduce a man, I was
almost afraid that Monsieur de Villardin was desirous of examining the
contents of his wife's note; and I felt not a little uneasy under the
apprehension of his proposing to me to give it up to him. But in this
I did him injustice; and when, after receiving the billet, I had gone
out into the park, and he had joined me, he at once turned the
conversation to matters entirely in the past. "From everything," he
said, "that I have seen and heard, I am inclined, my boy, to put the
fullest faith in all you say; and of this fact you cannot doubt, since
upon your word alone I have risked my own life and taken that of
another. There are, nevertheless, some circumstances of an
extraordinary nature, which make me desirous that you should repeat,
once more, the conversation which you overheard between Madame de
Villardin and the unhappy young man who lies out yonder;" and he
pointed with his hand in the direction of the spot where the Count de
Mesnil was buried. "Tell me, then, exactly the whole truth," he added,
"and fear not that anything you may say will agitate or affect me."
I willingly obeyed, for I well knew that impressions of good being
never so lasting as impressions of evil, require reiteration; and,
without varying a word, as far as my memory would serve me, I
recapitulated exactly all that had passed between the Duchess and the
Count de Mesnil, adding, at the same time, that the tone of scorn and
contempt in which she spoke to him was more forcible than even her
words.
"In riding past the house that day," demanded the Duke, "which side
did you take?"
"The opposite side to the small saloon, my lord," I replied, very well
understanding to what his question tended; "and as I came over the
turf, and from among the trees--which, if you remember the way I took,
you will see I must have done--it is perfectly impossible that any one
in that side of the house could either have heard or have observed my
return."
"But, could they not hear you enter the library?" demanded the Duke.
"Impossible, my lord," I answered; "for the first door was open, and
the second, as you know, makes no noise; besides, I saw the whole
immediately, and Madame la Duchesse was speaking before I entered. It
was only the end of what she said that I heard."
Monsieur de Villardin made no reply for some time, but pondered deeply
over my words, gnawing his lip, and knitting his brow. At length he
spoke, but it seemed more to himself than to me that he addressed his
words. "And yet, that he should possess a lock of her hair!" he said;
"it is impossible!--there must be some deceit."
"Oh, my lord, it is not her hair," I cried; "depend upon it, there is
some mistake."
"False boy!" he cried, turning angrily upon me, "it is her hair! There
is no mistake! Have I not proved it by every test? Either you have
been deceived or are deceiving. But, no! you are deceived, I believe.
Leave me--leave me, sir!"
It may easily be conceived that I obeyed willingly, for there is but
little use in reasoning with a madman, and such I looked upon Monsieur
de Villardin to be, in the matter of jealousy, at least. Returning to
the castle, I occupied myself as usual; but the Duke did not come back
for several hours, wandering about, as had been his custom lately,
busied with solitary reveries which but served to foster the gloom and
anxiety to which he was a prey.
The next morning, as I was to set out for Dumont before the breakfast
hour of the household, I descended about eight o'clock to the
apartments of good old Jerome Laborde, whose affection for me had not
decreased since I had rendered so many services to his nephew. I
calculated, therefore, on finding a substantial meal prepared for me
in his room; nor was I mistaken, for there it stood upon the table,
consisting of everything qualified to fortify the eager and craving
stomach of youth against the effects of a long journey.
"Thank you, thank you, good Jerome," I cried, at the sight; "thank you
both for my breakfast, and for rising be-times in the morning to give
it me, as I know you love not to be the first in the house to see the
sun."
"Alack! young gentleman," he answered, with a mournful shake of the
head, "although I have been up an hour, yet I am not by several the
first that saw the sun this morning. My lord has been up since six. So
has Gaspard de Belleville, and closeted with his master for an hour.
So, too, has been that pert slut Suzette, my mistress's maid, and she,
too, has been called to the conference. I fear all this bodes our poor
lady no good, though God knows what my lord can find to be jealous of
here, where she sees not a living soul but himself."
This intelligence did not serve as a very pleasant accompaniment to my
breakfast. I saw at once how affairs were going, and easily divined
that my lord, finding me so little disposed to pamper the jealousy,
which, though it tore his very heart, was still his favourite passion,
was inclined to take Gaspard into his confidence, very sure of finding
all sort of compliance on his part. To him I had been, as it were, a
blunt razor in the hands of a man who wished to cut his own throat;
but Gaspard de Belleville was very well inclined, I believed, to prove
the instrument of the wrong which his lord inflicted upon himself.
From this new arrangement, there was, of course, much to fear, as far
as my personal favour with the Duke went; but, even under that
mortification, it was no small consolation to me to think that Gaspard
could do little to injure the poor Duchess. However malevolent might
be his natural disposition, as far as I knew he had seen nothing which
he could distort to evil purposes, and I also believed him to be too
stupid to frame a story for himself, or to invent circumstances with
such a regard to probability as would deceive even Monsieur de
Villardin's willing credulity. What might proceed from the agency of
the maid, Suzette, I could not tell. She was, herself, a bold,
intriguing, saucy woman; suspected strongly by every one of not being
quite a Diana; but I believed that she really was attached to her
mistress, and trusted to that attachment to vindicate the Duchess from
all suspicion.
My fears, therefore, if I can call them fears, were chiefly confined
to myself; and, although I may safely say--now that it is all past and
over--that interested feelings had nothing to do with my
apprehensions, yet it was most painful to me to think I might be
supplanted in the affection and confidence of a nobleman, for whom,
with all his faults and his weakness, I entertained a sincere
affection.
"Well, Jerome," I said, after a moment's thought, "you are an old and
faithful follower of Monsieur de Villardin. You see, as we all see,
how miserable he is making himself about empty fancies and phantoms in
the air. Depend upon it, Gaspard is not likely to do him any good in
these respects. Now it is your duty, surely, to strain every effort to
counteract any evil that may be done."
"But how can I?--how can I, my dear young gentleman?" cried the old
man; "I dare not speak to my lord on such subjects, unless he speaks
to me."
"A few words well applied often do a great deal," replied I. "If the
Duke hears his lady cried up by all his oldest and best servants and
friends as what she really is--all that is good and virtuous--he will
soon learn to think so too; and you may find many an opportunity of
saying such words as, 'so good a lady as Madame!'--'so virtuous a lady
as the Duchess!'"
"Well, well; I will try, Seigneur Jean," replied the old man; "and
depend upon one thing--no one shall injure your interests with my lord
while old Jerome Laborde is in the house. No, no; I will take care of
them."
"Oh, I know I leave them in good hands," I replied; and ere we could
say more, the groom appeared to tell me that the horses were waiting.
After receiving an affectionate embrace from the good old major-domo,
I ran down into the court, and sprang upon my horse, without any
further leave-taking, as I was not supposed to know that Monsieur de
Villardin had yet risen.
CHAPTER XV.
Although I loved Monsieur de Villardin sincerely, and left my interest
in his heart in a very precarious state, yet I acknowledge that I was
delighted to ride away from the Prés Vallée. Ever since the death of
Monsieur de Mesnil, a gloom had fallen over the place, of which I
could not divest it for a moment. These sensations would probably have
worn away in a few days, although I began to think more seriously
about human life than I formerly did, had not Monsieur de Villardin
seemed to feel so deeply upon the subject himself. His regret and
melancholy were a constant excitement to my own; and though, of
course, the feelings that I experienced were far less poignant than
his, and no other internal torment was added to the awful memories
which oppressed me, yet the cloud that overcast his days shadowed mine
also; and the sight of all the little traits which revealed how
painfully he remembered the death of the Count, constantly recalled to
my mind the share that I also had taken therein.
Besides this, my mind was fretted and annoyed at beholding continually
the anxieties, suspicions, and cares, to which Monsieur de Villardin
made himself a prey; the destruction of an amiable woman's happiness,
and the misery of a man I loved. I have said fretted and annoyed,
because latterly a degree of impatience, which sometimes almost
mastered my respect, had mingled with the grief that the sight of such
a state of things had first occasioned in my bosom. From all these
causes, my feelings, instead of being painful, were joyful in a high
degree, on quitting the scenes which, a few months before, had
appeared to me so beautiful and peaceful that I had fancied I could
dwell in them for ever; and each mile as I rode on seemed to take more
and more of the load from off my heart.
It was the morning of a bright and beautiful day in spring; and as I
suppose that there are few people who do not feel themselves happier
when the aspect of the world is cheerful around them, the pleasure I
experienced in getting away from scenes of discomfort and pain was
augmented by the warm sunshine and the clear sky. The thirst of
novelty, too, still fresh upon me, made me feel delighted with the
journey; and the hope that this change in our dwelling would
ultimately lead to a change in the general chain of events, had no
small share in the joy with which I set out. The truth was, that
though I had certainly met with a sufficient stock of adventures since
I had lived with Monsieur de Villardin to occupy my time abundantly,
yet they had not been (if I except those which occurred during the
first few weeks) of a kind that at all suited my disposition.
Enterprise of almost any sort I liked and enjoyed; but the excitement
which I had lately felt was of a gloomy and of a sombre character,
which saddened without satisfying--oppressed, but did not please me.
Now, however, I anticipated other scenes and other pleasures; and
though in truth I had not the slightest reason to suppose that any
alteration would really take place, yet fancy can always supply
abundance of materials for the architecture of hope; and as I
journeyed on, I gave imagination full scope to work her will, in
building up gay edifices in the distant prospect.
Nothing occurred to amuse or interest me in the course of my journey
except the simple change of scenery; but as the country through which
we passed was very beautiful, and the season one which shows off the
loveliness of nature to the greatest advantage, what between fair
objects flitting before my eyes as I rode along, and gay dreams rising
up in my own bosom, the road did not seem long, nor the time tedious.
It was night when we reached the Château of Dumont, and as the gossip
of the one château had been, of course, regularly transmitted to the
other, by the servants and messengers that were continually passing to
and fro between them, I found that the two or three domestics by whom
the house was at this time tenanted, were prepared to receive me with
every sort of deference and respect, having heard that I was an
especial favourite with their lord, and that he had declared he
regarded me as his own son.
The next morning, at breakfast, I was visited by the intendant, and
delivered to him the letters with which I was charged, and which he
proceeded to read in my presence. After asking me for some
explanations, in regard to the Duke's will, on two or three points
which did not appear very clear to him, he added, "Here is one letter,
monsieur, referring to yourself alone, and as I suppose you are well
acquainted with the contents, I have only to say, that I shall be very
happy to accompany you immediately."
I assured him, in reply, that I was perfectly ignorant of his meaning,
as I had not been before aware that his lord had written anything
concerning me at all.
"The Duke orders me here," said the intendant in reply, laying before
me the letter he had just opened, "to put you in possession of the
lands and houses of Juvigny, which, he says, he ceded to you, by a
deed of gift, about two months ago. If, therefore, you are inclined to
take possession this morning, I shall have much pleasure in walking
down with you, and formally making over to you the lands, as well as
pointing out the boundaries of the farm and the dependencies thereunto
attached."
It is not to be supposed that so young and new a proprietor as myself
would be very unwilling to see and take possession of the first
property he ever had in his life; and, thanking the intendant, whom I
began to look upon as a very civil person indeed, I willingly agreed
to accompany him to my territory of Juvigny. As the place itself and
the road that conducted thither are memorable in my little history, on
many accounts, I must be permitted to describe that morning's walk,
step by step, as we proceeded.
We set out, then, about half-past nine, and took our way across a
broad terrace, which extended in front of the château, and which, at
either extremity, sloped away into a fine road, broad enough for
either horses or carriages. In front, however, it was supported by a
perpendicular stone facing of about six feet high, at the bottom of
which lay an extensive flower-garden, reached by a wide flight of ten
steps; and, beyond the garden, again extended a fine park, laid out in
walks and alleys, containing about three square miles of ground, on
either side of a deep and rapid river, which, passing between high
banks, took its way, through the midst of the estate, towards the sea,
at which it arrived without mingling its waters with any other stream.
Across this river the various paths, with which the park was
intersected, were carried over a number of bridges, built in very good
taste, some of stone and some of wood, as the character of the scene
immediately around seemed to require. Over one of these, which
consisted of a light wooden arch, the intendant and myself took our
way, after having passed through the flower-garden and a considerable
part of the park. This direction, I found, was followed, in order to
cut across a bend in the river; for, after issuing forth through a
postern door into the country beyond the park, we again crossed the
stream by another bridge, and proceeded along its course, pursuing a
path which wound in and out through a scene of mingled rock and wood
as wild and varied as ever I beheld.
As we proceeded along this road, which we followed for about half a
mile, the intendant informed me that the little farm of which I was
now the master had been bought by Monsieur de Villardin, on the death
of the last proprietor, lest it should at any time fall into the hands
of people who might render its proximity to his park an annoyance to
him. We soon after reached our boundary, and, having called at the
Métairie, where I was formally introduced to the farmer and put in
possession of my new property, we went round the limits, which
were much more extensive than I had expected, and returned by the
dwelling-house of the old Lords of Juvigny, which consisted of a small
feudal tower, with modern offices on the same scale, perched upon a
high bank overhanging the water, and commanding a beautiful prospect
down the valley through which the river wandered.
While the intendant was busy opening the door, which, from having had
entirely its own way for several years, seemed very unwilling to give
admission to a new lord, I asked the good farmer, who had followed us
on our round, what was the extensive grey building which I observed
about a quarter of a mile farther down on the other bank of the
stream. He replied, in a patois which I could scarcely make out, that
it was a convent of Ursuline nuns, to whom a great part of the ground
on the opposite side of the river belonged.
I answered, that I was glad to hear that I was to have such good
neighbours; and, following the intendant, who had by this time opened
the door, I was inducted into my house, which afforded a much greater
promise of warmth and comfort in the inside, than had been given by
its external appearance.
The worthy intendant showed me over every part of it; and when he had
done, he added, "You have now seen the whole of the estate, sir, which
being--as I understand the Duke--conferred upon you in full, gives you
every seigneural privilege, comprising droits de moulin, et de
colombier, d'eau, et de four."
As I turned away quite satisfied with all these fine rights, of mill
and dove-cot, water and oven, I observed a slight smile pass between
the intendant and the farmer; and as I did not affect to observe it,
the honest countryman explained it by a question which he asked my
companion in one of those horse whispers which may be heard distinctly
at a mile.
"Is he a boy, really," asked the farmer, grinning, "or a little man?"
The intendant made no reply, but enjoined silence by holding up one of
his fingers; and, walking gravely after me, showed me the same
deferential respect which he had formerly put on, and at which I could
plainly see he had been laughing in his sleeve. I was nettled a good
deal, I confess; for though I did not, in truth, feel myself at all
what the world calls a boy, I had not the slightest wish to assume any
station but that which was my due. At the same time, I am well aware,
and was so even at the time, that the habit of mingling with mankind,
and the fact of having passed all my early years in gathering
knowledge of the world instead of poring over grammars and
dictionaries, had given a sort of decision and promptitude to my
manners, which, coupled with my juvenile appearance, might well win
for me the character of a conceited little fellow from those who saw
no farther. However, as I have said, I was nettled at finding that the
respect with which the intendant had been treating me, and which was
rather suspicious from its profoundness, was nothing but a mockery;
and had any occasion for venting my irritation occurred at the time, I
might have done so with a vehemence which most probably would have
amused him and rendered myself ridiculous. A little reflection, as we
walked on, took the anger, and consequently the absurdity, out of my
feelings; and, remembering that it was very likely that the worthy
intendant might attempt to treat me as a conceited boy in money
matters also, I resolved to show him that I was fully aware of my own
situation.
"Of course, Monsieur l'Intendant," said I, as we again entered the
park, "you will continue to receive the rents of the farm, and pay
them into the hands of Monsieur de Villardin; for though he has been
kind enough to bestow it upon me, I am well aware that my youth and
inexperience of such matters utterly incapacitate me to manage it
myself. I know, too, that, as a foreigner, I cannot exercise any of
the rights you mentioned just now, without higher permission, which,
however, the Duke has already promised to solicit for me; and,
doubtless, it will be granted long before I am qualified by age to
make use of it."
The intendant opened his eyes half an inch wider at a discourse which,
I am sure, he did not expect; and, as I thought over the business, I
proceeded:--"One thing, however, I will ask you on my own account;
which is, to seek me out a good tenant for the house, and the field in
which it stands; as the one is overgrown with weeds, and the other is
very likely to get out of repair. But, at the same time, it is
absolutely necessary that the tenant should be one who is agreeable to
Monsieur de Villardin. If you can find such a person as I describe,
who will be attentive to and careful of the place in which he dwells,
the advantage of having the house kept from dilapidation will, of
course, induce you to let him have the dwelling for a certain time
without rent, and the land at the lowest value of the ground."
Whether the intendant did or did not conceive a better opinion of me
from this discourse, I can hardly tell; for he was one of those men,
so often met with, who, with an air of profound respect, have at the
same time a slight smile hanging ever about the corners of their
mouths, which casts a sneering expression over their whole
countenance. I gave myself very little further care upon the subject,
indeed; for though the people on whom nature or habit has inflicted
such a look are always hated--because, without having a pretext for
resenting it, we perceive that they are insulting us in their own
hearts--yet he was always civil, and never afforded me the slightest
pretence for anger, either by his demeanour or his actions. It was
therefore, of course, my wisest policy to think as little as possible
of what I could not remedy.
At the end of a week, Monsieur de Villardin and the whole household
made their appearance; and the bustle of taking possession of their
new abode concealed for the first day any changes that had occurred.
When all the arrangements were over, however, I began to see a marked
and unpleasant difference. Monsieur de Villardin was something more
than grave and gloomy; he was abstracted, and at times fierce; and it
was evident that the internal irritation of his feelings made him
perceive subject of offence in things the most simple and harmless.
To me he was certainly as kind as he could be; but still there was a
difference there also. He often spoke to me gently, even
affectionately, of my circumstances and my future prospects; treated
me in most respects as his son; made me dine with himself and Madame
de Villardin; but he never referred to the events which had taken
place at the Prés Vallée. I saw, too, that, on the excuse of not
looking upon me any longer in the light of a page, but rather as one
of his own family, the familiar intercourse which I had held with him
was in a great degree denied to myself and permitted to another; and
that Gaspard de Belleville was closeted with him for hours every day.
Of course, this did not please me; for although I trusted to my own
conduct to maintain the good opinion of the Duke, yet, with the common
weakness of human nature, I did not like that his confidence should be
given to another, though it had often been painful to myself. I knew
very well that my behaviour, though it might not have gratified his
jealousy by admitting suspicions I believed to be false, would command
his esteem more than that of Gaspard, who, probably, was more
complacent--but who is there so strong and philosophic in heart, as to
value esteem more than affection? I saw clearly, and I saw it with
regret, that Monsieur de Villardin's love was likely to be given to
him who pampered the weakness under which he laboured, rather than to
him who tried to clear away suspicions, which, however detrimental to
himself, were too firmly rooted to be eradicated without pain.
As some compensation, however, I found that my place in the regard of
the Duchess was becoming higher each day; and as Monsieur de
Villardin, on his arrival at Dumont, had desired me to attend upon her
in her walks and drives, not as a page, but as her companion,--I was
but fourteen, be it remembered,--and as her guard in case of danger, I
had continually the means of cultivating her good opinion. Her spirits
by this time were so depressed, that all the gay levity of manner
which I had formerly remarked, was gone; and, grave, sad, and
thoughtful, she took her daily walk through the park, accompanied by
myself and her little girl; sometimes endeavouring to amuse herself by
talking to me of England, and of the scenes that I had gone
through--sometimes moved to a smile at my boyish pranks with the
beautiful child that ran on beside us--but still relapsing into
melancholy the moment that the evanescent light was gone. Never by any
chance did she refer to her husband's behaviour towards her; though
once, when she seemed more than usually depressed, her words and her
manner made me think she was going to do so.
"You have greatly won Monsieur de Villardin's confidence and esteem,"
she said, after some previous conversation during one of our walks;
"and I very well perceive that hereafter that esteem will be much
increased. Now, Monsieur Hall," she proceeded, speaking with a
considerable degree of emotion, "I have a favour to ask you, and a
promise to exact from you. Of course, no woman in my situation can
count upon life for more than three or four months, with any degree of
confidence. Should I die, then, in the course of the event which is to
befal me,--which I think more than probable,--as you will grow up to
manhood with my children, and possess their father's confidence, will
you promise me to be to them as a brother, to defend them with your
whole heart and strength, by hand and voice, against any one that
would wrong them; and never to forget to uphold their cause whenever
you hear them assailed? Will you promise me this, upon your word of
honour as a loyal Englishman and the son of a good soldier?"
"That I will, madam, and that I do," replied I: "even had you not
asked it, I would have done so. But I now bind myself by everything I
hold dear, in case--amongst the many changes of the world, which have
laid my own hearth desolate, and given my father's house to
strangers--they should ever require such weak aid as mine, I will give
it to them with my whole heart and soul, and show as much zeal in
their cause as if I were their brother."
I purposely made my promise as strong in point of language as I could
devise, because I clearly saw, by the agitation of the Duchess while
she spoke, that her husband's late conduct towards herself had excited
in her bosom many a fearful apprehension in regard to the fate
of her children. Hope, I have heard, will catch at straws; and
certainly--though in the wide range of probability it was possible I
might ultimately be able to render the services she required--there
appeared but little likelihood of my assistance being of much avail:
yet nevertheless my zealous promise seemed to relieve her mind
greatly; and as I made it, I saw the tears, which had been crowding to
the gates of her eyes while she herself had spoken, now burst forth
and roll over her cheeks.
"Thank you, thank you!" she replied: "I know that your promise will
not be forgotten, and therefore I shall never mention the subject to
you again, but rely in all confidence upon your word:" and so saying,
she led the way back towards the château.
CHAPTER XVI.
A fortnight, or rather more, passed away in this unpleasant state; and
I found that time, which reconciles one to most things, had not that
effect at all in making me endure patiently the transfer of the Duke's
confidence to Gaspard de Belleville. Had he been, indeed, a person who
deserved that confidence, or who would not have abused it, although my
vanity might have been as much pained, my reason would not have
supported me in murmuring, nor would my affection for my lord himself
have given additional pain to my personal mortification. As it was,
however, I felt convinced, from what I knew of that youth's
disposition, that he would not only do nothing to cure Monsieur de
Villardin of his morbid suspicions, but that, both for the sake of
maintaining his place in his master's favour, and of annoying me, he
would do all that he could to foster any feelings which he might find
out that I had opposed. When these thoughts came across my mind--not
being of the most patient temper in the world, nor particularly
scrupulous as to the means of gratifying it--I more than once thought
of throwing my adversary over the bridge into the river; and as I had
never yet done anything of the kind in my own private cause, though I
had committed many a doubtful act in the cause of others, I
endeavoured to reason myself into believing that such a proceeding was
absolutely necessary to the peace of Monsieur and Madame de Villardin.
This passed through my thoughts more than once, I acknowledge; and I
imagined--if done fairly in single combat, strength against strength,
without any surprise or feint on my part, and with full warning
received by him--that the act I contemplated would be fully as
justifiable as any duel that ever was fought. He, indeed, had the
advantage of age, being certainly two years older than myself; though
now, having grown considerably in the air of Brittany, I was as tall
as he was, and nearly as muscular.
What all this would have ended in, Heaven only knows; and I am almost
afraid to calculate now what would have been the probable result; but
two circumstances took place soon after my conversation with the
Duchess, which I have detailed in the end of the last chapter, which
put an end to all further thoughts upon the subject. The first was the
arrival of a personage, who, on many points, changed all my ideas and
opinions, gave me a new view of my duties, and both enlarged and
purified my mind. The second was an accident which suddenly gave me a
higher place than ever in the affection of Monsieur de Villardin, and
established a link of connexion between his heart and mine that
neither years nor circumstances could ever break.
Let me speak of the events which followed, however, in the order in
which they occurred.--Of old Jerome Laborde I had seen a good deal
since his arrival from the Prés Vallée; and, although he could give me
no information as to the result of the conferences held between
Monsieur de Villardin, his page, and the soubrette, he did not fail to
point out that the change which had taken place was an evil one, and
that all happiness was banished from our dwelling. The only thing, he
said, which would ever restore it, would be the coming of good Père
Ferdinand, his lord's confessor, who had more influence over his mind
than any one, and who had promised to come over and stay at Dumont for
some time. I had caught a passing sight of the Confessor more than
once at the Prés Vallée; and both from something prepossessing in his
demeanour, and from the effect which his exhortations had produced
upon Monsieur de Villardin on a former occasion, I argued in the same
manner as good Jerome Laborde in regard to his next visit.
Various circumstances detained him, it appears, at Rennes for several
days after this conversation; and the next time I saw the good
major-domo was one day when, on suddenly entering the saloon, I found
him speaking with the Duke, and, as it appeared to me, in an attitude
of entreaty. I was about to draw back; but Monsieur de Villardin
beckoned me forward, saying, "Come in, _Seigneur Jean_,"--the name by
which he usually called me when in his milder mood,--"come in! Here is
Jerome pleading to me in a matter which concerns you in a twofold
degree. It seems that you have told the intendant to seek you tenants
for your house at Juvigny, generously promising to let them rest rent
free if they will keep the house in repair. Now, I find that Jerome
has a nephew who is newly married, and who wants a dwelling, and he
applies to me for my consent to his occupying this tenement of yours.
Are you willing, Seigneur Jean?"
"Most willing, my lord," I replied, glad to give the old man any
testimony of my regard: "I am sure Jerome would not recommend any one
who would not do full justice to all intrusted to him."
"By my faith! I am not so sure," answered the Duke. "You know more of
this youth than I do; for it seems you saved him once from the
gallows--a piece of business not very much to the credit of either.
Besides, I may be accused, Jerome, of harbouring convicted felons."
"But, my lord, I can assure you," answered the old man, "he has
obtained grace and pardon of the King, only coupled with the condition
that he never sets foot in Paris again, nor ever attempts to exercise
the business of a printer."
As may well be conceived, I was not a little surprised to find that my
first tenant was likely to be poor Jacques Marlot; still more to hear
that Jacques had taken unto his bosom a wife; and most of all, to find
that a libel, which attacked the person and reputation of the Queen
Regent herself, had been pardoned upon any consideration whatever.
However, I, of course, joined my voice to that of good old Jerome
Laborde, who, to tell the truth, promised and vowed a great deal more
on the part of his nephew, than I at all imagined his nephew would
justify, assuring the Duke that all his follies were completely at an
end, and that henceforth, he himself would answer for Jacques living a
sober, tranquil, and peaceful life. Industrious and clever he always
had been, he continued; and as the good ladies of St. Ursula, the old
man said, were going to give him the management of their little farms,
just opposite to Juvigny, the house would come quite apropos. Although
with some difficulty, the Duke yielded to our solicitations, but
solely on condition that Jacques produced to the eyes of the intendant
the act of grace by which he was relieved from all danger of the royal
indignation. Jerome willingly accepted of the terms; and I withdrew
with him, in order to hear more of my worthy philosopher's fate, and
the adventures which had brought about such a consummation as
matrimony and the cultivation of the earth.
The major-domo, however, could tell me but little more than I had
already heard. He had received, he said, a letter from his nephew that
morning, dated from St. Aubin, entreating him to make the request he
had just done to the Duke, and giving him satisfactory assurances that
his pardon was really granted. How it had been obtained, Jerome added,
remained to be explained to himself as well as to me; but respecting
the farm of the Ursulines, and Jacques Marlot's knowledge of my plans
in regard to Juvigny, an easy explanation was afforded, by the fact of
his having just married a niece of our intendant's;--"A little against
the intendant's stomach, I believe," said the major-domo; "but it was
an old love affair, it seems, before Jacques went from Rennes--where
he was in good business enough--to Paris, where he got bad business
enough. But I have promised to open my own little store in his favour;
so that that affair is all set right with Monsieur l'Intendant."
I now found that Jacques, with his wife and other moveables, was to
take possession of his new dwelling, if his uncle obtained it for him,
in a few days; and as I could afford to bridle my curiosity for the
intervening time, I left the good major-domo, and proceeded on my
other affairs. These were of no great importance, and suffered little
from being disturbed; but as the old man's own occupations were very
numerous, and generally methodically arranged for all the hours of the
day, I was somewhat surprised to see him enter my chamber towards
nightfall, and seat himself as if prepared for no brief conversation.
After again thanking me for the fresh kindness I had shown his nephew,
he said,--"But it was not on that subject I came to speak with you
just now. You must know that Père Ferdinand arrived about an hour ago,
and is even now in conversation with my lord. You will see him at
supper; and doubtless my lord will introduce you to him, and will tell
him all you have done. But I took the liberty, my son, of telling him
all before, and also of letting him know how much you were attached to
my lord, and how eager you were to promote the peace and happiness of
all the family. Nay, more--and I hope, and am sure, that you will not
think I went too far--I promised him that you should meet him this
evening, after supper, in my apartment, and make his acquaintance more
completely."
"Oh! I will willingly meet him," replied I; "though I suppose we
should have had plenty of opportunities of making acquaintance during
his stay in the château, without any appearance of secrecy."
"It need be no secret, my son," answered the major-domo; "and in
regard to your making acquaintance with him afterwards, that would
depend entirely upon circumstances; for he does not seem at all
assured of staying even over to-morrow, till the conversation he is
now holding with the Duke is at an end. I merely wish you to see him,
because I think that, using both your efforts, you may do away much
that is amiss in the house, and also because I am sure you will love
and esteem him; for there never was a better man."
As old Jerome had anticipated, on entering the _salle à manger_ at the
hour of supper, I found the Duke standing with the Confessor, to whom
he instantly introduced me, saying,--"Father Ferdinand, this is the
young Englishman I mentioned, whom I look upon--if not as my own son,
since such a feeling is, perhaps, impossible--at least as the son of a
dear brother, and treat accordingly."
The Confessor took my hand, and looked at me with a smile full of
benignity, saying,--"We must be friends, my son; I hear a high
character of you from all quarters."
I expressed, as well as I could, my willingness to meet his kindness;
and as the Duchess was not well enough to appear that evening, we sat
down to supper alone. I remarked that Monsieur de Villardin was more
calm, though not less grave than he had seemed of late; but it was the
person and demeanour of the priest that principally engaged my
attention.
He was a man considerably past the prime of life; and though his frame
was neither bent nor broken by the weight of years, yet his age was to
be traced in his thin white hair, and in many a long deep furrow on
his brow and cheek. His eye, however, was bright and clear; and his
teeth of as white an ivory as ever appeared between the lips of
youthful beauty. He was thin and pale, but his complexion was clear,
and, probably, had never been red; and his form, which was tall, was
also upright and graceful, and in no degree stiff. His robes, too, sat
well upon him; which is always a sign of a lofty education or of a
fine mind; for no one can feel himself perfectly at his ease in all
his movements, without possessing the one, or having received the
other. With Monsieur de Villardin the Confessor spoke as equal to
equal; and though, from his demeanour, I might, perhaps, as a first
impression, have inferred that he was one of those priests who so
frequently govern, with absolute sway, the little kingdom of a private
family, yet he was evidently not one of those who would truckle to the
prejudices, or give indulgence to the errors, of any one in whose
dwelling he was established. There was in his whole conversation a
tone of bold independence, mingling with the tenderness of his manner,
which took away from it the slightest appearance of subserviency, and
made me feel that, in giving him the title of Father, one only
addressed him by a name which he believed himself to deserve.
After supper I again retired, and, as I had promised, took my way to
the apartments of the good major-domo, where the priest soon after
made his appearance, and spoke with me for some time, kindly and
frankly, upon a variety of indifferent subjects. He was evidently
delighted to hear that my mother had been a Catholic, and that I had
been originally brought up in that faith; but he pressed the subject
no farther upon me, and I saw that he skilfully avoided saying one
word that might make me suspicious of any design on his part, either
to force himself into my own confidence, or to wring from me the
secrets of others. Gradually, however, he brought the conversation
round to the subject of Monsieur de Villardin, and spoke with deep,
and, certainly, sincere regret, of the state to which the Duke
appeared to have brought himself. He asked me no questions, however;
but on my expressing equal pain at the fact, he only replied, by
exhorting me to strive, by every means in my power, to remove the
poison from my friend's mind. I willingly promised to continue all my
efforts, and our conference thus ended.
After what I have just said, it may seem extraordinary that my first
impression of Father Ferdinand was not favourable. On retiring to my
own chamber, I sat down to meditate over the character of the
Confessor, and, as usual, formed my judgment very rapidly. I was
wrong, however--entirely wrong; for as yet I had only allowed myself
to remark the worst--I may say, the sole bad trait in Father
Ferdinand's nature. On it, with the keenness which had been taught me
from my youth, I pounced like a tiger, and resolved to be as wary as
possible to guard myself against its effects. This evil spot, which I
short-sightedly conceived to overspread the whole surface of his
heart, though, indeed, it was but a small blemish therein, was a
slight touch of that subtlety for which our priests are rather famous;
but I must pause for a moment, to define exactly its real limits, lest
those who may read this writing fall into a like error with myself.
It was certainly a part of Father Ferdinand's doctrine, that, in
churchmen, the end justified the means, provided that the means were
not absolutely immoral. Thus things that, under any other
circumstances, he himself would have considered meannesses, lost that
character in his eyes when they were employed to effect some good
purpose; and art, duplicity, and cunning, used either in extracting
the truth from others, or in guiding them, even against their will,
upon the path he thought it right for them to follow, seemed to him
not only admissible, but praiseworthy, in a priest. He stopped there,
however, saying that no clergyman had a right to go farther; and that
if, upon the pretence of guiding others, he did one act that was
really sinful, the sin rested on himself, aggravated rather than
palliated by the motive, inasmuch as it was insulting God to suppose
that he could be served by sin.
On these principles, he made the character of all those with whom he
was brought in contact his most minute study; employed every method of
obtaining information concerning them, even to questioning their
servants and their friends; and having done so, proceeded, step by
step, to establish his own influence over their minds, which it was
only owing to the goodness of his own heart, and the natural rectitude
of his judgment, that he employed to their advantage and their peace.
At first, however, he proceeded cautiously; suffered the traits of
their hearts to develop themselves before his eyes; shocked none of
their prejudices; rudely assailed none of their opinions, till such
time as he found himself secure of his power over their minds; but
then, certainly, with an eloquence which I have never heard excelled,
and a fervour rarely equalled, he would combat their errors, oppose
their vices; and, once having begun the strife, would throw himself
before their passions, in full career, and show them that they
trampled on everything sacred, if they pursued their onward course.
The consciousness of this ultimate purpose, too, gave a dignity even
to acts that I cannot but imagine to be reprehensible; and even, in
the endeavour itself to elicit from dependants the secrets and
character of their lord--an occupation which surely is mean, if there
be anything mean on earth--there was an air of authority in his whole
bearing, which made it seem more as if he were examining witnesses
with the power and right of a judge, than inquiring into the private
history of others for objects of his own.
It is with regret that I have stated this blemish in a man I esteem
and love, though no one will see these lines till both our eyes are
closed, and his virtues will live remembered long after we both are
dust. He himself, however, saw it not as a blemish; and were he now to
behold the lines in which I have endeavoured to portray it in its true
features, he would very probably say, that I had softened down one of
the best traits in his character to suit my own prejudices; for he
himself has always contended, that the noblest victory he ever
acquired over human weakness, was that in which he conquered his
natural repugnance to employ means which the world condemns and
scorns, for the sake of effecting the best of purposes.
In all other respects, my memory can rest upon every part of our
acquaintance with pleasure; and, look into it as narrowly as I will, I
find qualities in his character which I can admire and respect. In
point of physical gifts, nature had originally been very bountiful to
him indeed, and he had cultivated what she gave with extraordinary
care. A fine ear for music, and a rich, melodious voice, gave
full effect to a copiousness of words, and a happy selection of
epithets, that could only be gained by long study; and clearness of
thought--which is probably a natural faculty--was thus rendered doubly
efficacious by immense power of expression.
But I must not dwell too long in description, which seldom does
justice to its object. The next morning, in strolling through the
park--a custom which my habits of early rising enabled me to indulge
before the rest of the family were up--I was joined by the Confessor,
or, as he was generally called, the Directeur; and although, as I have
said, I had already formed an erroneous opinion of his character,
which led me to believe that any conversation between us was to be a
game of chess, where it would behove me to be wary of all my moves,
yet there was something so bland and pleasing in his very salutation,
that I walked on with him, not ill-pleased with his company.
"I am glad to see you are an early riser, my son," he said, after
wishing me good morning. "It is a practice which leads to many worldly
advantages; and, where the mind is well disposed, may be turned to
better purposes. There is a freshness, and a sublimity, and a calm,
monitory voice, in the early morning, which inspires purity of
feeling, counsels good purposes for the ensuing day, and lifts the
heart to adoration of the Being who made all the bright world that is
wakening around us."
Whether he did it with that purpose or not, I cannot tell, but
certainly he could not have chosen a better method of breaking down
all the barriers between us, which my examination of his character on
the preceding night had raised up, than by thus showing me that there
were finer thoughts and feelings in his heart than those which I had
as yet discovered. After a few more words, however, in the same
strain, he again brought the conversation to Monsieur de Villardin;
and he now spoke of him in terms of tenderness and pity which he had
restrained on the preceding night, while in the presence of the old
domestic. Nor was it alone his sorrows he appeared to commiserate: he
seemed to pity him more for his errors than even for his griefs. He
spoke of him as of a being who, with noble powers and a generous
heart, had, by a few weaknesses and faults, created for himself
lasting misery below, and endangered his happiness for the long
hereafter. There was something so eloquent--I may say, so sublime, in
the pouring forth of his lamentation over one who was evidently his
friend as well as his penitent, that I was struck and affected; while
all my prepossessions, I felt, were rapidly giving way to a truer
estimate of my companion's character.
Seeing that I listened eagerly, and, mistaking the cause of the
surprise which was visible upon my countenance, he added, "You wonder
to find me addressing you thus upon the subject of the Duke; but you
must remember that I am his confessor, and know exactly how much you
know of his affairs; what share you have had therein, and how you have
borne yourself under difficult circumstances."
I replied not; for I began again to be upon my guard, fancying that
all this might be but a prelude to questions which I might not think
fit to answer. By my silence and the casting down of my eyes, he
seemed at once to enter into my thoughts:--"Be not afraid, my son," he
said, laying his hand upon my shoulder, with a smile; "I seek no
information that you can give me. Indeed, what need I, knowing much
more than you can know. Suffice it, that what I have heard of your
conduct--making allowance for faults of education and habit--leads me
to give you my esteem: and I trust that, even yet, with your good aid,
I may be able to eradicate from the bosom of my noble friend the root
of bitterness that poisons all the current of his days: and although a
shadow from the past is, I am afraid, cast over his future for ever,
yet we must try to soften it by the light of hope, which springs from
repentance."
I doubted not that the priest alluded to the death of the Count de
Mesnil; but it was neither my business to take it for granted that
Monsieur de Villardin had confided that secret to him, nor did I see
that the strong terms he used were very applicable to that event; for
I could not get my mind to comprehend that the fact of killing an
adversary in fair fight, though it might be a matter of personal
regret, was at all a subject for religious repentance. I replied,
therefore, generally, that, of course, he was the best judge of what
his penitent had to atone for; but that, for my part, as both duty and
affection prompted me, I was willing to strain every nerve to relieve
the mind of Monsieur de Villardin, and to restore him to a happier
state of feeling.
"I doubt you not, my son," replied he, seeing that there was still
some holding back in my conversation with him; "I doubt you not, and
trust that the time will soon come when you will not doubt me. In the
meanwhile, to speak of another part of our subject, good old Laborde
tells me that the page, Gaspard de Belleville, seems lately to have
taken your place in the Duke's confidence. Your place in his esteem
and affection he has not taken, as I positively know; and I would fain
be sure of the fact that Jerome Laborde tells me before I speak with
Monsieur de Villardin about it. Have you yourself remarked any
difference?"
"So much so," I replied, "that many a painful feeling have I
experienced on the subject. Indeed, I attribute the great increase of
that evil which we all deplore, to the fact of Monsieur de Villardin's
now confiding entirely in persons who are likely to foster all his
suspicions, and strengthen every wild idea that jealousy may suggest."
"And do you think that this Gaspard de Belleville is a person to do
so?" demanded the priest.
"Beyond all doubt," I answered. "So sure am I, and so sure have I
been, that such is the case, that, only yesterday, I contemplated
bringing him to the middle of that bridge and throwing him over into
the river, after giving him fair warning of my intention."
"My son!" exclaimed the Confessor, recoiling with a look of
involuntary horror; but, the moment after, he recovered himself, cast
his eyes down upon the ground, and muttered a short prayer.
"Of course," I added, seeing the surprise painted on his countenance,
"I did not propose to do so without giving him every fair equality.
You did not suppose, I trust, father, that I would take him by
surprise?"
"God forbid, my son, that you should do such an act at all," replied
the Confessor: "the time will come when you will think better."
He said nothing more upon that subject, however, governing his own
feelings with wonderful control; but, from that day forward, I seldom
failed to meet with Father Ferdinand in some part of my morning's
walk; and I saw that the words I had spoken with regard to Gaspard de
Belleville had never been forgotten. Gently and cautiously, but firmly
and perseveringly, he applied himself to change opinions and
prejudices which my early habits had rendered almost a part of my
nature. At first he would take an opportunity of descanting generally
upon the value of human life, as the most precious gift of God; and,
at various times, he put it in a thousand different points of view;
each tending to show that it was an inestimable gift, which no
creature had a right to take from another, except in those cases which
God himself had pointed out. Now, he represented it as the space
allotted to a sinner for repentance; now, as the means of conferring
benefits on others,--rearing and supporting a family,--and doing the
will of the Almighty. Now, he showed it as the crowning and especial
gift of God--a thing alike beyond man's comprehension and his efforts,
which he could, indeed, take away, but which he could never restore.
Now, he would display the horrors that would oppress that man, who, on
a supposed injury, had taken the life of another, if ever he were to
discover that his passion or his judgment had deceived him, and that
no injury had really been done, or that it had been attributed to an
innocent person. Now, he would carry his view beyond this world, and
represent the agony that the murderer's soul must suffer, when, in
addition to the weight of the crime itself, he felt loaded with all
the unrepented sins which his hand had prevented his victim from
atoning upon earth. Then, again, he would return and awaken every
human sympathy; display the sweet ties broken, the dear hopes
destroyed, the noble careers cut short, by such deeds: he would
represent loves and affections that we know not of, bright but secret
aspirations, joys and good deeds concealed from every eye, ended for
ever, as the punishment of some trifling fault or idle folly; and, in
the end, when he found that all my prejudices were shaken, he
addressed himself direct to my own heart, with such powerful and
eloquent exhortation, that thenceforth I mingled with the world with
very different feelings in regard to the relationship between man and
man.
CHAPTER XVII.
In speaking of Father Ferdinand, I have compressed into one view the
effect which was produced upon my mind by many long interviews with
him. These took place, as I have said, almost every morning; but in
the meanwhile several events occurred to which I must now turn. A
slight variation in our dull and somewhat painful course of life was
afforded, about this time, both to good Jerome Laborde and myself, by
the coming of Jacques Marlot and his bride to my house at Juvigny, and
by the preparations which preceded his arrival. In these preparations,
indeed, I did not share; but almost every day I perceived that good
Jerome continued to absent himself from his duties at the château for
a sufficient space of time to run down, through the park, to Juvigny;
and many a time did I meet him with gleesome satisfaction depicted on
his countenance, returning from his expedition to his nephew's new
dwelling.
As soon as I had learned that my friend Socrates had brought home his
Xantippe, and was fairly in possession of his new abode, I asked the
Duke permission to absent myself for an hour or two, and sallied forth
to make him a visit of congratulation. I found him gazing forth from
his door, with pleasure and content at the prospect around him, having
the farm which he was to cultivate for the good Ursulines just on the
opposite side of the river, the convent itself within a quarter of a
mile; and a little stone bridge, at half that distance, to render it
easily accessible.
Madame la mariée was within, aided by a bustling big-nosed Bretonne
servante, arranging the household gods; and Jacques Marlot himself had
thus an opportunity, without any sacrifice of dignity in the eyes of
his bride, to pour forth his joy and gratitude to John Marston Hall.
As he somewhat belaboured me with thanks for all sort of kindnesses,
past, present, and to come, I cut him as short as I could, by
demanding impatiently to see the bride.
"Ha! ha! my young lord and master," he exclaimed, "do not excite my
jealousy within the first fortnight of my marriage; for I have but
lately found out that you are an old friend and high favourite of my
dear better half."
These tidings surprised me more, perhaps, than they might have done at
a later period of my life; for at that time the extent of my female
acquaintance was very limited, and perhaps the most decided fragment
of my boyhood that then remained to me was a lingering dislike to the
generality of female society, and a very juvenile contempt for women
in general.
"Indeed!" exclaimed I, in reply to Jacques Marlot's information,
"indeed! you make me but the more curious. Let me offer my adorations
with all speed to the first of your household divinities."
"Well, well; enter, enter, by all means," he cried: "I am not made of
jealous stuff, thank God; and as our love has already lasted five long
years, I trust it will not break short at matrimony."
I was now conducted in form into the house; and on the first floor we
found the bride and her coadjutrix, when my surprise was still more
excited, by beholding in Madame Marlot the pretty brunette whom I had
seen at the inn near St. Aubin, on my first arrival in Brittany, and
who had warned me of what was passing between her father and the groom
who then accompanied me. After the first salutation, I returned her my
thanks in set form, although I had nearly lost my life in consequence
of her information; and I then enquired after her worthy and
respectable father as tenderly as my conscience would permit me to do.
In reply, she informed me that her parent had most unjustly been
suspected of having given information to the same band of robbers who
had plundered me, that the courier for St. Malo was about to pass
within their hospitable neighbourhood, on a certain day and hour; and
that, in consequence, he had been arrested and thrown into prison,
where, within one fortnight, he died, just as the authorities were
about to liberate him, having become convinced of his innocence, and
judging that a fortnight's imprisonment was a sufficient punishment
for being suspected. The prisoner having thus liberated himself, his
daughter was left, according to her own account, sole heiress of her
father's wealth, which proved a burden less weighty than she had
anticipated. She also found so many persons in this generous world
willing to relieve her of it, that she saw very clearly it would soon
be no burden at all; and therefore, she set herself to consider what
she might best do under such circumstances, when suddenly her ancient
lover, Jacques Marlot, appeared one night at the inn, and presented
her with an expedient that she did not fail to adopt.
In reply to this communication, I paid her my compliments upon her
wisdom; and, as I found that the kind-hearted brunette and her
bridegroom were both bent upon my staying to partake of their first
dinner in their new dwelling, I yielded to my fate, and found that
neither Jacques Marlot's taste for _friandise_, nor the skill which
Madame had acquired in the kitchen of an inn, had abandoned them.
During our meal, my philosopher gave me a sketch of his wandering life
in the guise of a pedlar; and then related the means he had employed
to obtain his pardon, which were ingenious enough. It appears that in
France the presence of the King is always mercy, and that if he but
set eyes upon a condemned criminal his punishment is remitted. Well
knowing this fact, and trusting to his disguise, Jacques Marlot made
his way towards Paris, and having heard that the King and Court were
about to make their public entrance into the capital on a certain day,
he prepared to take advantage thereof, to obtain his pardon. This plan
succeeded to his wish. Bribing some of the guards at the palace with a
considerable portion of what he had gained in his petty traffic, he
placed himself in a spot where the royal party were sure to pass, in
descending from their carriages; and, as the young King and the Queen
came on together, he struggled forward to cast himself at their feet.
One of the ushers, indeed, opposed his progress, and knocked the poor
printer down to make him clear the way; but this only brought him
literally to the King's knees; and the young monarch's first impulse
was to stoop in order to raise him, reproving, at the same time, the
usher for his violence.
Jacques Marlot rose no farther than his knees, however, and in that
position besought pardon for his offences. It being now ascertained
who the intruder really was, the guards were ordered by Mazarin to
take him into custody; and poor Marlot was removed, trembling, as he
acknowledged, for the consequences of his bold attempt. The rule,
however, was suffered to prevail even in his case, although the Queen
and the Cardinal were both exasperated in a high degree against the
unfortunate printer. After remaining in one of the rooms of the palace
for more than an hour, his pardon was brought him, but coupled with
the condition that he should quit Paris immediately, never to return,
and should never more exercise the trade of printing in any part of
France. "And thus, my dear benefactor," he added, "I turned my steps
hither, determined to become a new Cincinnatus, and, abandoning the
government of Roman capitals, to dwell upon my farm and put my hand to
the plough."
In such conversation we passed an hour or two very cheerfully; at the
end of which time I took my leave, and left the pair to conclude their
evening alone. It was now about two o'clock, on a fine April day; and,
walking slowly along, I meditated over all the strange turns of that
strange and unaccountable thing, fate, which, principally by the means
of a complete stranger, had conducted the _ci-devant_ printer in less
than a year from the foot of the gallows to a peaceful retirement in a
beautiful country.
On entering the park, I took the shady walk by the bank of the stream,
both because the warmth of the day made a shelter from the sun not
unpleasant, though the year was yet so young, and because I always had
an indescribable pleasure in sauntering by a running water, and gazing
upon the current gushing brightly by me. The banks here were
irregular, sometimes high and overhanging, sometimes sloping softly
down, and dipping their turf into the stream; and, as I often paused
to gaze, and ponder, and revolve a number of sweet sunshiny dreams
that were now very common to my mind, I was at least twice the length
of time in the walk that I needed to have been.
Luckily did it happen that I was so. When I had got about half way to
the château, I perceived that there were others in the walk besides
myself; and, straining my eyes a little, I saw that it was Madame de
Villardin, with a servant a step behind her, and her little girl
running on before. The Duchess approached but slowly, with her fine
eyes, as usual now, bent pensively upon the ground, and her hands,
which were very beautiful, clasped together, and resting on her waist.
The little girl, full of the joy and vivid life of youth, ran
backwards and forwards before her mother, now gathering a flower, now
peeping over at the stream, and receiving, from time to time, a grave
caution from the soubrette, who walked behind, against approaching too
near the water. As soon as she saw me, however, the little Laura had a
new object of attention, and running along the walk like light, she
came towards her playfellow. The impulse, however, was soon over; and,
ere she had half reached me, she slackened her pace on hearing the
voices of her father and the Confessor in one of the other paths hard
by, and was turning gaily to seek them, when an early butterfly
started up from the bosom of a flower and caught her notice. The
painted insect fluttered on before her with that sort of faint
impotent flight which leads so many a child to follow on for miles,
still hoping to catch it at every step. Eagerly she pursued, with her
whole young soul beaming out of her beautiful eyes. For some way the
butterfly flew on down the alley, and Laura de Villardin was close
upon it; when rising a little in the air, it turned its course towards
the opposite bank of the river. With a bound forward, Mademoiselle de
Villardin strove to catch it ere it escaped for ever, slipped her foot
on the bank, and plunged over at once into the stream.
It is impossible to describe the three or four long thrilling shrieks
that burst from the lips of Madame de Villardin as her child
disappeared. For one instant they overpowered me; but the next I
darted forward to the bank. Luckily the stream was flowing towards me,
and, though deep and rapid, was smooth enough. I cannot remember the
time when I could not swim, and the only difficulty was to discover
the object of our search. The first plunge over had made her sink, and
nothing appeared as my eye ran along the river, but the flat
glistening surface of the stream.
An instant after, however, the little girl rose again, and with a
faint cry, held out her arms at the distance of about twenty yards
from me. I plunged in, with two or three strokes brought myself to the
spot, and finding that she had sunk again, dived down where I caught
the gleaming of her clothes; and, throwing my left arm round her, shot
up to the surface, holding her head above my own. By the convulsive
grasp with which she seized my neck and hair, I found that she was
still living: and the joy which that conviction gave me was
indescribable, when, on rising above the water, I saw the scene that
the bank presented. Madame de Villardin, on her knees, with her hands
clasped, and eyes straining upon the spot where I had disappeared, was
the first object that met my view; but a little nearer stood the Duke,
called to the spot by the shrieks of his wife; while, with the frenzy
of agony in his whole aspect, he was evidently only restrained from
plunging over also by the firm grasp which the priest had laid upon
his arm. Behind him appeared the form of Father Ferdinand, raising up
his left hand with impressive energy; and I could not but think he was
predicting I would save the child. The whole scene was made up by a
number of servants running down towards the spot, together with the
woody irregular banks, the bright green shades of the young leaves
which clothed some of the trees, and the calm, bright sunshine,
streaming cheerfully over all, as if there were no such things as
danger, and terror, and care, and distress, in all the many scenes he
looks upon.
A shout of joy, that made the banks echo again, burst from the
spectators, when we rose above the surface of the stream, especially
when, by the ease with which my old habits of swimming enabled me to
bear my little charge, they saw that she was placed beyond further
risk; and when a motion of her hand towards her father evinced that
she was uninjured from that which had already occurred. All crowded
round the spot to which I directed my course; and Monsieur de
Villardin, stooping down as I approached, caught his child in his
arms, and pressed her again and again to his heart. For some time
Madame de Villardin wept in silence, holding one little hand of her
rescued child, and kissing her fair cheek as she lay sobbing and
agitated in her father's bosom. The priest looked on for a moment or
two without speaking; but then calling to their remembrance Him to
whom their thanks were first due, he offered a short prayer of praise
and gratitude in their name to the Almighty Giver of all good.
When this was concluded, Madame de Villardin besought her husband to
give their little Laura into the hands of one of the servants, with
orders to carry her to the château, lest, from the dripping state of
her clothes, she might encounter a danger different from that which
she had just escaped. Her father, however, would not part with her;
but, so far following the suggestion, he himself carried her home,
hurrying forward as fast as possible, while Madame de Villardin, with
the rest, followed more slowly, her situation preventing her from
accompanying her husband so rapidly. Her feelings were too intense for
speech, and she proceeded in perfect silence; while the priest, who
followed by my side, questioned me concerning all the circumstances
which had attended the accident.
When we arrived at the castle, we were met by Monsieur de Villardin
himself, leading his daughter by the hand, now clad in drier garments,
and smiling as gaily as if nothing had happened. Such moments soften
and expand the heart; and the Duke's first act was one which inspired
bright but delusive hopes of better days in the bosom of more than one
person present. He held his daughter up in his arms to embrace her
mother, and then taking the Duchess's hand, he pressed a kiss upon her
cheek.
Without pretending to any fine feelings, I may truly say, that I felt
as glad as if some great benefit had fallen upon myself. His next act,
however, was one which gave me gratification more entirely personal.
The little Laura, having embraced her mother, turned to me, and, as I
bent over her to ask her how she was, she sprang into my arms and
kissed my cheeks repeatedly, with all the warmth and sincerity of
childish gratitude. Monsieur de Villardin smiled kindly upon us both;
and the Duchess, who was again drowned in tears of joy, held out to me
her hand, which I raised respectfully to my lips. We all now entered
the château, and, although I was not very apt to fear wet clothes, I
made the state of my dress an excuse for retiring to my chamber,
feeling that the Duke and Duchess would be better left alone together
with their child under the circumstances in which they were then
placed. A couple of hours elapsed before I again saw any of the
family; but, at the end of that time, one of the lacqueys entered my
room, and informed me that Monsieur de Villardin desired to speak with
me. I instantly followed, not doubting, certainly, that his intention
was to thank me for the assistance I had rendered to his child; but
not expecting, by any means, the deep and enthusiastic pouring forth
of gratitude with which he now overwhelmed me.
He knew not, he said, how he could express his feelings towards me. If
he had before looked upon me as a member of his own family, in what
light could he now look upon me, when I had saved his child, the idol
of his heart, from the death which so imminently threatened her? In
conclusion, he again asked what he could do to testify his affection
for me, and to express his thanks; and bade me point out myself any
way which would prove most gratifying to myself, and he would
instantly pursue it, did it involve the sacrifice of half his fortune.
"My lord," I replied, "I hope for nothing, I wish nothing, I will
accept of nothing, for doing an act which is far more than repaid by
seeing the happiness which it has given to yourself and your most
excellent lady. Or, if I must ask a boon, it shall be alone, that you
will, through life, give me the same place in your regard and
affection that you do now, and let me share your love and confidence
as long as we both live."
"That boon," replied the Duke, "was granted before you sought it. For
never, of course, can I behold you in any other light than as the
dearest and best beloved of my friends--nay more, as a benefactor,
though the benefits conferred are of a kind that I can never repay.
You must think, therefore, of some other request; or, if you think of
none now, let it stand over to the future, and I promise, whatever
boon you then ask me, to grant you, upon my honour."
"I do not think I shall have cause, my lord," I replied, "to call upon
you to fulfil your word; but, as there is nothing that I either want
or wish for at present, I can certainly ask nothing now."
"Well, then," he added, "let it remain for the future; but one thing I
must myself do immediately, which I have heretofore forgotten: as I
told you before, it will require a royal ordinance to put you, as a
foreigner, in full and entire possession of your farm of Juvigny; and,
as I stand not over well with the Court, I was almost afraid that such
a favour might be refused me, if I applied without some special reason
which I could assign for making over the property to you. I now can
assign the noblest and the most valid of reasons, and I will at once
write to the Prince de Condé, one of my best friends, entreating him
to make immediate application to the court for such letters patent as
may enable you hereafter and for ever to obtain and hold lands and
lordships in France, as if you were a native subject of the realm."
I thanked him sincerely for all his kindness, and the letter to the
Prince de Condé was immediately written and despatched by a special
messenger, who, before three weeks were over, brought me back letters
of naturalization in all due form, and entitling me, John Marston
Hall, _Sieur de Juvigny_--a name which, afterwards, I occasionally
adopted when circumstances required.
If, in the household of Monsieur de Villardin, there had before been
anything wanting to my being considered and treated as one of his own
family, such was no longer the case. Every day something new was done
to contribute to my comfort and happiness. My time was left perfectly
at my own disposal. A servant was selected peculiarly to attend upon
me. A suite of handsome apartments were assigned me in one of the
wings of the château. Two beautiful horses were presented to me for my
own use; and no young cavalier, of the first quality, could have been
better equipped in every respect than I now found myself. That which
gratified me the most of all, however, was to find that Monsieur de
Villardin now selected me continually for his companion; and though
but little conversation of a very private nature took place between
us, yet I felt that, as far as his confidence went, Gaspard de
Belleville was beneath my feet for ever.
From Father Ferdinand, too, I received a mark of affection and
kindness, which, as I had now learned to appreciate his character
properly, gratified me much. The apartments assigned me consisted of
an ante-chamber, a little saloon, a bed-room, and a dressing-room; and
I was surprised, on returning one morning, to see the carpenters, who
were always more or less employed about the house, engaged in putting
up a neat bookcase in my ante-room. This was followed by the arrival
of two large packets of books from Rennes; and I soon after found the
good priest busily employed in placing them in order. When the task
was concluded, he begged me to accept them for his sake, and added, "I
have had them placed here for you, because there are many leisure
moments in every man's life which he is glad to employ in reading, if
a book be at hand, when, probably, he would not take the trouble of
going down to seek one out in a large library like that below."
When I came to examine the store that the good father had provided for
my mind, I was both pleased and amused with his selection; and,
indeed, it offered not a bad type of his own mind. The books were in
general of anything but a heavy or very serious cast, though amongst
them were to be found a number of volumes, in the pages of which a man
disposed to seek for sound and wholesome ideas was sure to find them
on every branch of morals or ethics. The generality, however,
consisted of the best and purest poets in the language; of historians
a considerable number; of romance writers a very few; but all were
chosen evidently with a view to induce a habit of reading, and to lead
the mind on to knowledge and virtue, by the pleasant path of
entertainment.
The effect was such as the good priest could have wished and desired:
as I was not naturally obstinate or perverse, the knowledge of his
design led me rather to endeavour to accomplish than to defeat it.
Although my taste for reading was, certainly, never so great as it
might have been, yet the half hour that I snatched twice or thrice in
the course of each day to peruse some of the volumes with which he had
supplied me, carried me through a great number of the classical
authors, both in French and Latin, and gave me a taste for many things
which I had before but little appreciated.
Owing both to new pursuits and feelings, my time did not now hang
heavy on my hands; but it must be remarked, also, that a renewed gleam
of sunshine had fallen upon our dwelling, which made everything seem
cheerful around. The burst of kindly emotions and tender feeling, to
which Monsieur de Villardin had given way, had proved more permanent
than might have been expected. For several days before, the Confessor
had been labouring to free his mind from its delusions; and although
he had clung to his suspicions with all the tenacity of a jealous
disposition, yet the calm, steadfast reasoning of the priest had, it
appears--together with my former representations--produced a great
effect; and it wanted but some little circumstance to wake the dormant
affections of his heart, when the accident that befel his child
occurred. The consequence, at the time, I have already noticed; and
for several weeks the same mood continued. Everything assumed a new
aspect, and to me, especially, the whole scene was full of enjoyment.
Although the season was no longer one in which we could urge the
chase, as we had formerly done at the Prés Vallée, yet fishing and
falconry, which was still a favourite sport in that part of Brittany,
afforded us constant amusement; and, as I have said, I was ever by the
side of Monsieur de Villardin, often his only follower, and always his
most cherished companion. The only one in the house whom this change
seemed really to oppress, was my old enemy, Gaspard de Belleville; and
never did I set out with the Duke on any expedition of pleasure, but I
caught a sight of his brow lowering upon us, evidently full of gloomy
disappointment at seeing the new hold I had obtained of his master's
affections. That he would struggle to regain them himself, and
endeavour to deprive me of the confidence and regard which he coveted,
I did not at all doubt; but as I feared nothing for myself, and
trusted that his power of injuring Madame de Villardin, at least in
regard to the Count de Mesnil, was at an end, his hatred and
malevolence were more a matter of mockery to me than anything else. It
is difficult, however, to know when the fangs of a snake are drawn
completely; and I had yet to learn what a base and malicious heart can
accomplish, when it scruples at no means to serve its own sordid and
ungenerous purpose. I thought it quite sufficient that I did not
affect to triumph over him who was evidently my enemy, and that,
without insulting him by anything like protection or condescension, I
treated him with civility. I have sometimes, indeed, been sorry since
that I did not pursue a different course, and even, by irritating him
still more against myself, who could always defend myself, give a
different direction to efforts which, without serving his own purpose,
were but too fatal to the peace of others.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The calm continued for nearly a month; and though an occasional fit of
gloom would fall upon Monsieur de Villardin, it disappeared on every
occasion ere it had lasted many hours. So much, indeed, did the
harmony of the family now seem restored, that Father Ferdinand,
although he had agreed to fix his residence permanently in the house
of his friend, took advantage of the tranquillity which he had so
greatly tended to re-establish, in order to visit Rennes, and arrange
his affairs in that city before he finally settled at Dumont.
The situation of Madame de Villardin, and her appearance, became every
day more interesting; and although I could at times see a shade come
over the countenance of her husband while, as he gazed upon her, some
unworthy suspicion crossed his mind, yet, in general, he seemed to
regard her with that increased tenderness and interest which every man
must, or ought to feel towards a being they love, under such
circumstances. The medical attendants of the Duchess had strongly
enjoined her to take as much exercise on foot as possible; and,
followed by a servant carrying a small garden seat, she continued her
walks through the park, resting whenever she found herself tired, and
proceeding again when she felt able. In many of these walks the Duke
himself accompanied her, and still more frequently joined her at one
of her halting places. All this bespoke renewed affection and
confidence; and I too certainly hoped and believed that the demon
which had caused so much unhappiness in our household was quelled for
ever. Such was the state of affairs when one day, by the Duke's
desire, I set out to visit Avranches and St. Malo, the latter of which
places I had a strong desire to see. My little tour lasted four days;
but nothing of any interest occurred in its course, except an
accidental interview which I had at St. Malo with an acquaintance I
certainly did not expect to see so soon again and in such a place.
After having visited the port, and perambulated such of the
fortifications as I was permitted to see, I retired to the house of
one of those aubergistes, whose hospitable dwellings are ever ready to
receive the money of successful captains just returned from the sea;
and there, sitting down in the general receptacle of guests, I ordered
my dinner, which was set before me by the servants with all the
promptitude of men accustomed to deal with a hungry and impatient
race.
Scarcely had I begun to eat, when a gaily-dressed personage entered,
and placing himself nearly opposite to me, ordered his dinner also, in
a tone of authority which was answered with due respect by the garçon,
with, "Yes, captain--not a moment, captain--directly, captain." This
new guest was a strong, square-built man, with a face that any one
would have unscrupulously pronounced a frank, open countenance; but as
soon as my eyes rested upon it--although his whole garb and appearance
was perfectly naval--yet I thought that I had seen him filling the
office of captain in the land service rather than the marine. He
caught me gazing at him, and, as he did so, a slight frown curled his
brow; but as I did not usually respect frowns particularly, I only
smiled in return, and proceeded tranquilly to the discussion of my
dinner. Before I had proceeded far, however, my acquaintance seemed to
have made up his mind as to his conduct; and, taking a moment when the
room was full of different persons, he exclaimed, after fixing his
eyes upon me for a moment, "I think, monsieur, I have had the honour
of meeting you before."
"I think so also," I replied, making an inclination of the head: "your
face is familiar to me, though I really cannot tell where I have seen
it."
"The same is my case," replied he, "in regard to you; but, at all
events, you see that I have abandoned the profession of arms, which I
followed till within the last six months, and have become a humble
captain of a merchant vessel trading to the colonies."
"I admire the versatility of your talents," said I, assuming the same
tone, though doubting greatly the truth of the tale he told me; "you
must have acquired a knowledge of naval matters quickly; for now I
remember you were, when last I saw you, a very distinguished, active,
and expeditious officer in the service to which you were then
attached."
"Oh, monsieur, you are too flattering," he replied; "and, in regard to
my versatility, too, do me more honour than I deserve; for, to tell
the truth, I was originally brought up in the navy. You doubt me," he
added, in a lower tone, "and perhaps doubt the whole story, but it is
true, nevertheless. I have, indeed," he continued aloud, "condescended
to go into the merchant service, but it is only on condition that my
ship be armed, and one of the finest on the water. I should be proud
to show her to you, sir. We sail at high water, which will be in an
hour; and if you will come with me to the port, you shall see us get
under weigh."
I very well comprehended that it might not be quite agreeable to
Captain Hubert, with whom I had made a somewhat interesting
acquaintance in a certain forest near Rennes, to leave a person who
knew his former pursuits so well as I did, to walk unwatched through
the town of St. Malo, at least till such time as he himself had fairly
sailed; the merchant service, it appeared, being his real occupation
at the present moment. To put his mind at ease, therefore, as it
certainly never entered into my head to betray him, I agreed to walk
with him to the port; and, after he had concluded his dinner, which
was interrupted by the applications of half a dozen clerks, and twice
the number of seamen, all proving that his tale was true, we turned
our steps towards the spot where his vessel was lying.
Near the door of the auberge I saw the servant who had accompanied me
thither, and whom I had left to take care of himself. I now, however,
made him a sign to follow, and we thus proceeded to the port, which
was crowded with people of all kinds, every one busy on their own
peculiar affairs, and seeming to think that there was nobody else in
the world but themselves. Here the worthy captain pointed out to me
his vessel, which, indeed, was of a goodly size, and, apparently, well
armed; and it being now time that he should embark, he gave me a
friendly invitation to go with him and take a hasty view of the
interior. This honour, however, I declined; and, playfully catching me
by the collar, he declared I should go, pushing me at the same time
towards his boat with an air of jest, but at the same with sufficient
force to hurry me on a step or two, before I was aware. The spectators
laughed at the good-humoured captain's badinage; but I, who had seen
more of his jests than pleased me, laid my hand upon my dagger, and
beckoned the groom towards me, saying, at the same time, "Let go my
collar, my good sir, while the matter is a joke! You know I am hasty."
"Oh, if you take it in that light," replied the other, seeing the
groom running up, "you are, of course, free to do as you like. But,
remember!" he added, in a low, deep voice, "Remember!"
"Pshaw!" I replied, in the same tone, "do not be afraid; I will not
betray you."
"I trust you," he said; "I trust you;" and, springing into his boat,
he was instantly rowed off to his ship, leaving me to congratulate
myself on having escaped a trip to the colonies, where most likely I
should have been treated more as the merchandise than the merchant.[3]
----------
[Footnote 3: In explanation of this expression of the worthy
autobiographer, it may be necessary to remind the reader, that numbers
of persons were, about that time, kidnapped and sold as slaves in the
various American colonies.]
----------
Amused with my adventure, I returned to my auberge, where I asked one
or two questions concerning the worthy gentleman from whom I had just
parted, and found, by the replies, that, since our former rencontre in
the forest, he had already made one successful trip across the
Atlantic, and had given every sort of satisfaction to the owners of
his vessel. "All is well that ends well," I thought; but, however, it
was no business of mine to interfere with a man's return to an honest
profession, and therefore, of course, I held my peace concerning one,
at least, of his previous occupations.
The next morning at an early hour, I set off on my return to Dumont,
pleased with my whole expedition, and trusting, foolishly, to find
everything in the same state of tranquillity which had reigned there
when I left it. As I rode on, and entered the park by the gates near
Juvigny, all appeared sunshine and brightness, and there was an aspect
of calm serenity about the whole place which rendered it almost
impossible to conceive that it was the abode of anything but
happiness. About half way up the avenue I perceived Monsieur de
Villardin approaching towards me, with his arms crossed on his breast,
and a sort of staggering, uncertain step, which seemed to me
extraordinary. I immediately dismounted, and, giving the horse to the
groom, advanced on foot to meet the Duke, who evidently saw me, but
suddenly turning away, he took a path into one of the side alleys; and
seeing that he wished to be alone, I remounted my horse and rode on to
the château. The first person I saw in the house was Gaspard de
Belleville, who passed me in the vestibule, with a sort of grin upon
his countenance, which made me fear that matters were not going so
well as I could wish; for I had remarked that his smiles were not, in
general, the precursors of anything very pleasant to myself.
The feeling, indeed, that some disagreeable event had occurred was
vague; but I had always found it the best plan to make instant
inquiries into the situation of affairs around me, as soon as ever I
had the slightest suspicion that anything had gone amiss. Without even
proceeding to my own apartments, therefore, I directed my steps, at
once, to the room of my domestic oracle, the major-domo, and entered
unannounced. The old man was busy with papers and accounts; but the
moment he saw me he threw them down upon the table, and, lifting up
his hands with an air of affliction, he exclaimed, "It has all gone
wrong again, sir; it has all gone wrong."
"Why, what, in Heaven's name, is the matter now, Jerome?" I demanded.
"When I left you, all bade fair to continue tranquil and at peace."
"Ay! but there is some demon of mischief at work in the house,"
replied the old man, "whose machinations we don't understand. My lord
is a thousand times worse than ever. Indeed, he hardly appears to me
to be sane."
This news, as it may well be supposed, grieved me deeply; but, of
course, my first thought was to discover the origin of the change that
had taken place, in order, if possible, to counteract any evil that
might have been produced either by accident or by design. "Tell me,
good Jerome," I said, as the old man was going on with desultory
lamentations and vague facts, "tell me exactly what has occurred since
I went away, step by step, as nearly as you can remember it."
"Why, my son," he replied, "I have very little to tell, except what I
have before said, that my lord seems nearly insane. However, let me
see! The only thing that occurred worth noticing the day after you
went away was, that in returning from Juvigny, where I had been
visiting my nephew, late in the evening, I found Master Gaspard and
Madame Suzette, my lady's maid, in one of the alleys of the park a
great deal more intimate than I liked. I had seen something of the
same kind before at the Prés Vallée, and then, though I did not choose
to show myself in the matter, I took good care that my lady should
know what was going on; and I know that she scolded Suzette severely,
and threatened to discharge her if she behaved so lightly. However,
there they were again, walking along together, certainly more like two
lovers than a page of good birth and a lady's tiring-woman ought to
be. Coming upon them suddenly, I passed by without their well seeing
who I was; but I heard him say to her, speaking of some one else, 'Oh!
he would take fire at it in a minute; anything of that kind would do
very well.' This time I thought it my bounden duty to tell my lady
myself what I had seen, and she was very angry indeed. The morning
after that, as I was just going up the great staircase, I heard a
terrible noise in my mistress's dressing-room, and the next moment my
master passed me like a madman; while I saw Lise, the other maid,
running out of my mistress's room as if for help. The moment she set
eyes upon me, she called me to come up and help her; and I found my
mistress lying upon the floor of her dressing-room, as if she were
dead; while beside her there was a large roll of bright blue riband,
which seemed to have fallen out of her hand. While we were lifting her
up to put her on the couch, my lord rushed in again, and, giving a
glance at her as if she had been a viper, snatched up the riband, and
left us to bring her to herself as we best could. She did not recover
for some time; and I thought it but right to call the doctor, who kept
her to her bed all that day. In the meanwhile, I asked Lise to explain
the cause of all this discomfort; and she told me that she knew but
little, not having heard all that passed between my lady and my lord.
When first she went into her mistress's dressing-room, she said, she
found Suzette persuading her mistress to have her white mantle trimmed
with that blue riband; and, though her mistress said it would look
ugly, still she held it in her hand. In a minute or two afterwards,
Suzette went away, and the Duchess asked Lise whether she thought the
riband would look well on the mantle. Just while they were speaking,
in came my lord, and Lise went on into the bed-room beyond; but, in a
moment after, she heard a word or two about the riband, and my lord
gave my lady some hard names which she would not repeat. Hearing some
one fall, she ran in, she said, to see, and found the Duchess as I
have told you she was when I came there. Ever since that time, my lord
has been like one distracted; and though he saw his wife yesterday, he
spoke not a word to her, but all the time he was in the room, he
continued playing with the curls of Mademoiselle's hair, and thinking
of something else."
Although I saw more deeply into the mystery than good old Jerome
Laborde, and felt afraid, indeed, that he himself might
unintentionally have contributed to bring about the change that we
both deplored, yet there were many points of the whole business still
dark and obscure even to myself. That the discovery of a riband in the
hands of his wife, of the same colour, and probably the same shade, as
that which suspended the locket to the neck of the unfortunate Count
de Mesnil, had revived in the mind of Monsieur de Villardin, with more
tremendous force than ever, those suspicions which the exhortations of
Father Ferdinand and mv own direct testimony to the Duchess's conduct
had crushed with difficulty, I did not in the least doubt. Nor had I
more hesitation in concluding that Gaspard's hatred of myself, and
desire to supplant me in the confidence of Monsieur de Villardin,
together with the offence which the Duchess's rebuke in regard to the
page had given Suzette, were sufficient motives for the lovers, or
paramours, or whatever they might be, to combine in fostering the
suspicions of Monsieur de Villardin against his wife, and thus
revenging themselves upon her while they rendered themselves agreeable
to him. But how they came by the knowledge necessary to make such
schemes effectual was, I confess, a wonder to me. Could Monsieur de
Villardin, I asked myself, could he have been weak enough to confide
in Gaspard de Belleville the secret of his encounter with the Count de
Mesnil, and the discovery of the locket and its contents? or could
either Gaspard or Suzette have watched our proceedings on that
occasion, or have overheard any of the conversations relating to it
which had taken place between myself and the Duke? The first
supposition I rejected at once, for it was impossible to believe that
Monsieur de Villardin would trust to the ear of one, whom he himself
suspected of having betrayed his confidence in former instances, a
secret which, from the concealment and privacy that had attended the
duel, might, in all probability, involve his own life. Neither could
I, in calling to mind with the most scrupulous accuracy every
circumstance relating to the transaction, believe that we had either
been watched, or that any of our words had been overheard. The spot
where the duel had taken place was so remote and private, everything
in the house had been so much in its usual train when we returned,
that, certainly, no one could have followed us from the château to the
place of combat; and any conversations that had taken place upon the
subject afterwards had always been carried on in low tones, and in
places where it was almost impossible that they could be overheard.
All this perplexed me greatly; and, although good Jerome Laborde
pressed eagerly for my opinion, I could neither give him insight into
the past, nor advice concerning the future. All that I could suggest
was, that, with the very first opportunity, he should send off notice
of what had occurred to Father Ferdinand, who might boldly originate
the subject in conversation with the Duke, without waiting till he was
addressed upon it. This, of course, neither Jerome Laborde nor I dared
attempt; though we naturally determined to do our best, should the
occasion of serving the unhappy Duchess present itself.
The means of sending off speedily to Father Ferdinand were, luckily,
found without difficulty; for, though we could not risk despatching a
servant to him from the château, yet Jerome saw that another messenger
might be procured by the intervention of Jacques Marlot.
Under these circumstances, I determined to write to the Priest myself;
and, having done so, I committed the letter to the hands of the good
major-domo, who undertook that it should go, at the latest, the next
morning. All this occupied some time, and it was now growing late; but
yet the Duke had not returned. Another hour elapsed; supper-time
arrived; and, although one of the most regular men in his habits that
I ever saw, still Monsieur de Villardin did not appear. The whole
household became alarmed; and Madame de Villardin herself, whom some
one foolishly informed of the facts, gave herself completely up to
terror; and, weeping bitterly, came down to the hall in order to send
out people to seek for her husband. At that moment, however, Monsieur
de Villardin's step was heard in the vestibule; and immediately
afterwards he entered the hall.
He took but little notice of his wife, merely asking, "Why are you
weeping, madam?" and after her reply, that she was apprehensive for
his safety, he cast down his eyes and stood musing, in the middle of
the hall, for two or three minutes, which seemed perfect ages to those
who were the spectators of so painful a scene. Then, starting
suddenly, he looked round frowningly upon myself and several of the
servants, who were gazing upon him in surprise and sorrow, and sat
down to table unwashed, and in his dusty dress.
He seemed, however, by this time to have recovered some kind of
command over his demeanour, and appeared eager to prevent the
servants, whose astonishment he saw that he had excited, from
remarking that there was anything in his behaviour different from his
ordinary habits. He spoke to Madame de Villardin frequently during
supper, to which she sat down with him, using, as he addressed her,
all those forms of cold courtesy and politeness, which none knew
better how to employ than himself. To me, also, he spoke once or twice
concerning my late expedition; and evidently strove, with a desperate
effort, to appear attentive to my replies. It was in vain, however,
that he did so; for he continually relapsed into deep thought, every
two or three minutes rousing himself violently from his reveries, and
then falling back again, whether he would or not, into a state of
dreary abstraction.
The next morning, a new change seemed to have taken place in his mood,
for he came down perfectly himself, collected, and firm. He was quick
and stern, it is true, but that was a frame of mind in which we had
all often remarked him, and thought there was now, perhaps, something
more approaching towards fierceness in his manner than we had ever
beheld; yet this demeanour was so much better than the state of the
preceding evening, that it appeared a relief.
Several times during the course of the morning I hoped that he was
going to speak to me on the subject of his new suspicions, for more
than once he looked earnestly, I may call it wildly, in my face; and
once, when he had done so during a longer space than ever, he suddenly
broke off, and turned away, muttering, "No, no! myself alone!"
I eagerly watched his conduct to Madame de Villardin during dinner,
and saw that it was certainly very different from that of the night
before--keen and rapid, but no longer harsh and abstracted. Yet though
the Duchess herself seemed delighted with the change, and did all she
could to soften him still farther, there appeared to me something not
natural in his manner, which alarmed me, and I determined to walk down
to Juvigny in order to make sure that the letter had been despatched
to Father Ferdinand, for whose coming I prayed more fervently than I
had ever done for the presence of any other man in my life. The reply
was satisfactory--a messenger having been sent off to Rennes at an
early hour; and I felt certain, though it might be late the next day
before the Confessor could arrive, that he would not suffer two suns
to rise ere he was in the château.
So far relieved was the mind of Madame de Villardin by the alteration
in her husband's conduct, which she apparently trusted would now
return to its ordinary course, that she began to resume her usual
habits; and, accompanied by her little girl, took her stated walk in
the cool of the evening; for it was now the month of May, and as warm
as June. The Duke was shut up in his library all day, and, I supposed,
alone; but in descending the back staircase--which, leading from my
apartments in the wing, passed one of the library doors, and thence to
the court behind the château--I encountered Suzette, the Duchess's
woman, coming out from a conference with Monsieur de Villardin; and I
felt sure, from that moment, that no internal change of feeling had
taken place in his bosom, though he might assume, by a great effort, a
different demeanour to those around him. To the hour of supper he was
this night exact: and though his conversation was evidently forced,
and perhaps a little rambling, yet it was fluent and courteous.
After supper, I, as usual, retired to my own apartments, and, full of
painful thoughts, turned to the window, and gazed out upon the park as
it lay before me, sleeping in the calm moonlight. I had not been there
a moment, when a figure appeared upon the terrace, which I instantly
recognised as that of Monsieur de Villardin. With a quick and
irregular pace he descended the flight of steps that led into the
garden, crossed it towards the park, and in a minute after was lost to
my view in one of the dark alleys. Never did I feel so tempted to play
the spy; but though I was conscious that the motive was not an evil
one, yet my mind revolted from the thought, and casting off my
clothes, I went to bed.
The next morning and day passed much in the same manner; but, about
half an hour before dusk, while Madame de Villardin was preparing for
her evening walk, the Duke himself set out on foot before her, saying
to his wife, as he left the saloon, in which I happened to be at the
time, "As you are not going to take Laura with you to-night, if you
come down the walk by the water side, I will meet you. Our young
friend here will accompany you!"
Madame de Villardin's joy at these words almost overflowed at her
eyes; and though she had never said she was not about to take her
little girl with her as the Duke implied, yet she determined to follow
his words exactly, and leaving Mademoiselle to play in the
flower-garden, under the superintendence of Suzette, she set out about
ten minutes after her husband, accompanied by myself alone. She walked
but slowly, and rested about half way down the walk; but although the
sun was below the horizon, and the light was growing faint, yet the
air was so warm and the sky so clear, one could have walked on for
hours with far more pleasure than in the full glare of day.
Ere we had again proceeded a dozen yards, we saw Monsieur de Villardin
come into the alley as if from the bank of the river; and offering his
arm to his wife, he took the garden-seat which I was carrying, and
walked on down the alley in silence. A minute or two after, however,
as we approached one of the little wooden bridges, he paused, and
asked Madame de Villardin whether she was able to walk on a little
further on the other side of the river. "I have just now seen a
wounded chevreuil," he said, "and wish to put it out of its agony;"
and then turning to me, he bade me run back to the house, and bring
his carbine, which I should find charged in his dressing-room.
His voice faltered, I observed, as he spoke, and the moment he had
done, he turned towards the little bridge which might lie at about
fifty or sixty yards from the spot where we stood. A feeling of awe
and agitation came over me not to be described, for I had a sort of
instant conviction that all was not right; and though I took a few
steps towards the château, I paused again almost immediately, not
knowing how to act or what to do. Never in my existence did I feel
such a painful state of uncertainty; and gazing after Monsieur de
Villardin and his fair wife, as they advanced slowly towards the
bridge, my mind in a moment ran over a thousand vague apprehensions,
probable and improbable, which only left the conviction that something
fearful was about to occur, though of what nature I could not divine.
"His carbine!" I thought; "long before I can get back, it will be too
dark for him to shoot anything thirty yards from him!" and I resolved
to follow, and, pretending I had forgotten what he had said, to ask
where the weapon was to be found. When I turned--though, as I have
said, it was quite dusk--I could see the figures of Monsieur and
Madame de Villardin approaching the river; and walking fast to come up
with them, I was within twenty yards of the bridge when they began to
cross it. Scarcely, however, had they taken two steps upon the
wood-work when I heard a crash, a scream, a plunge, and both figures
at once disappeared.
I darted forward to the spot where the bridge had stood, but nothing
now remained of it but some broken fragments attached to the piles,
which, driven into the high bank, had served as the foundation. The
growing obscurity of the twilight, the trees that overhung the banks,
the height of the banks themselves, which at that spot rose full
twenty feet above the stream, the rushing and rippling of the current,
which, there, considerably confined by its bed, hurried on towards a
sharp turn which it took about fifty yards below; all served to
prevent me seeing distinctly what were the objects on the surface of
the water. Fragments of the bridge there certainly were; but I saw
neither Madame de Villardin nor her husband, though the whirling of a
part of the woodwork in one of the eddies of the river made me for a
moment think I beheld the struggles of a living creature. I paused but
for a single instant to calculate what were best to do; and then,
seeing that there was nothing else to be done, I leaped from the high
bank at once into the stream, and as soon as I rose after the first
plunge, I struck rapidly down the current, in order, by exceeding its
own speed, to come up with whatever objects it was carrying down.
Almost at the turn of the river, where the water, in circling round
the point, drifted strongly against the bank, which was here again
less steep, at least on one side, I saw, amongst some broken pieces of
wood, a larger object, impeded in its course down the stream by some
projecting stones and roots of trees, and the next moment I grasped
the arm of Monsieur de Villardin. He seemed perfectly insensible; but,
springing to the shore, I dragged him up the bank, and laid him upon
the turf. Still he made no movement; but, as I confess, that from
various feelings which I need not explain, I felt more interested in
the fate of Madame de Villardin than even in his own, I left him at
once, and again plunging into the stream, I swam rapidly round the
little peninsula I have mentioned.
The river here was more open, and whatever light was in the sky was
reflected clearly from its bosom; but by this time all the fragments
of the bridge had drifted out of sight, and in vain lifting my head as
high as I could, I attempted to discover any object floating upon the
water. Still darting on as fast as my utmost efforts could impel me
along the current, I endeavoured to regain the time lost in drawing
Monsieur de Villardin on shore; and after a moment, a faint and very
distant cry for help caught my ear and encouraged me to strike on. The
cry, however, was never repeated; and after swimming till I was
perfectly exhausted, I was obliged to abandon the attempt in despair,
and landed about a mile below the dwelling of good Jacques Marlot.
Thither I directed my steps as fast as possible; and finding the door
locked, I knocked for several moments so violently as to bring him
himself, with a face of terror, to the gateway. Telling him what had
occurred, I besought him to rouse all the servants of the farm and the
cotters in the neighbourhood, and dividing into two parties, one on
either bank, to search the whole course of the stream with torches and
lanterns.
In the meanwhile, I hurried back, and calling the woodcutter at the
nearest gate of the park, made him hasten on with me to the spot where
I had left Monsieur de Villardin, answering as well as I could the
eager questions which he put to me, as we went, concerning the events
which had occurred.
We found the Duke exactly where I had left him; but, though he had not
moved in the slightest degree, it was evident that he was still alive,
for he was breathing loud and hard, like a person in a deep sleep.
Taking him up in our arms, we carried him as quickly as we could to
the château, when we were instantly surrounded by the whole household;
and by the lights which were now brought, we perceived that a severe
blow on the head was more probably the cause of his insensibility than
the short time he had remained in the water.
Leaving him in the hands of the physician, who for the last month had
inhabited the château, attending upon Madame de Villardin, I set out,
with the greater part of the household, all furnished with torches;
and for three hours continued our search for the body of the unhappy
lady, from the spot where the bridge had broken to a village nearly
six miles farther down the stream. Our search, however, was in vain;
and all feeling that a good mistress, a kind friend, and a gentle
lady, was lost to us for ever, we returned, sad and sorrowful, to the
château.
CHAPTER XIX.
The sound of our steps crossing the terrace was heard within the
château as we returned from our ineffectual search; and on entering
the vestibule, the first object on which my eye fell was the form of
Father Ferdinand, advancing to meet me. The natural clear brown of his
complexion had now given way to a deadly paleness; and I saw by the
haggard anxiety of the noble old man's eye, the tremulous eagerness of
his lip, and the agitation that pervaded his whole frame, how deep and
heartfelt was the interest which he took in the fate of those to whom
he was attached.
"Have you found her?" he cried; "have you found her?"
A mournful silence was the only reply; and the Priest, clasping his
hand over his eyes, remained for a moment or two apparently in prayer.
When the hand was withdrawn, however, it was clear that tears had
mingled with his orisons; and turning away from the gaze of the
domestics, he took me by the hand and led me towards the library.
There, closing the door, he cast himself into a seat, and gave way to
a burst of feeling, which certainly did not lower him in my
estimation.
"This is, indeed, terrible," he said, when he had somewhat recovered
himself. "This is, indeed, most terrible; and even I, who am too well
accustomed to witness scenes of death, and crime, and sorrow, am
overpowered by this."
"Is Monsieur de Villardin dead, then?" I exclaimed, misunderstanding
him. "Is he dead?"
"No, no," replied the Priest, "he is still alive, and likely to live;
but I fear me," he added, "is likely to live only to wretchedness and
remorse. Tell me, tell me, my son, how did all this happen? for it
seems you were the only one present at the time this fatal catastrophe
occurred."
To answer his question was more difficult than it would seem at first
sight; for it required no small care to avoid mingling the dark
suspicions that were in my own mind with the facts that I myself had
seen, especially as I perceived that the Priest himself entertained
many doubts of the event which had occurred having been purely
accidental. All that he could positively know, indeed, must have been
obtained from such information as the physician and the domestics had
gleaned from the broken account I had given on first returning to the
château; but it was evident to me that his own knowledge of foregone
facts had led his mind to dark suspicions, for which he now sought, in
his conversation with me, either confirmation or disproof. I replied,
however, as cautiously as I could, telling him the simple facts as
they had happened, but abstaining scrupulously from all remarks. My
manner, beyond doubt, was embarrassed, for I would fain have spoken
freely with the Priest, and fully believed, even at the time, that I
might do so without danger; but I imagined that I had no right to give
utterance to the slightest unascertained particular, and therefore
evinced a backwardness to explain more than was absolutely necessary,
which he instantly remarked.
"Are you deceiving me, my son?" he asked, gravely.
"No, indeed, Father," I answered; "I am telling you the simple truth;
but for reasons of my own, you must let me do so without comment, and
draw your own deductions from what you yourself know."
"Well, then," he said, after musing a moment, "you say that you were
turning back to ask him where his carbine was placed when you saw the
accident that occurred. Tell me now, my son, did your never-failing
memory and attention abandon you in the present instance; or had you
not forgotten, in reality, where he had told you that the weapon was
to be found?"
"I had not forgotten," I replied, "and only turned back with that
excuse, because I did not wish to leave him just at that moment."
"Then you must have apprehended something," said the Priest; "tell me
what it was, and why you did so. You may do so safely, my son; for I
pledge my word that your reply never passes my lips."
Thus pressed home, I replied, "Certainly I did apprehend something,
good Father; but my apprehensions were quite vague and unformed,
pointing to no particular object, and having no very definite cause."
"Then why did you entertain fears at all," demanded Father Ferdinand,
"if you had seen nothing to excite them?"
"I had seen much to excite fears of every kind," I answered; "the
whole demeanour of Monsieur de Villardin, his altered habits, his
look, the fierceness of his manner, the wildness of his eye, all made
me fear that he was hardly sane, and that surely was excuse sufficient
for general apprehensions."
"It was," said the Priest, "it was; and your conduct was so just and
proper in writing to me at first, that I will not believe you conceal
anything from me now."
"Father Ferdinand, I will tell you the truth," I rejoined, as he was
about to proceed; "I conceal from you no fact of any kind; but I do
retain in my own bosom all those deductions which I have made from the
same events that I have detailed to you."
"It matters little," he said, "it matters little! The truth of all I
shall soon know from this unhappy man, if ever he recover the use of
his reason, and in the meantime I will draw my own conclusions."
"Has he been roused from the stupor into which he had fallen?" I
asked.
"Completely," answered the Confessor; "but he is now in a state of
raving delirium, which is still more fearful. Of course, however, you
are at liberty to go and see him; and I do not know that it will not
be better for you and me, and old Jerome Laborde, with whom all
secrets are safe, to take upon ourselves the entire tendance of the
Duke during his illness, than to suffer others, on whose discretion we
cannot rely, to wait upon him. Men in delirium often say fearful
things, which, whether true or false--whether the breakings forth of
long suppressed remorse, or the mere dreamings of a disordered
imagination--make deep impression on the hearers, and are often
transmitted to others with all the evidence of truth. We had better,
perhaps, watch him alone. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly," I replied, "and will be guided in all things by your
counsel, Father. Would that you had come before to direct us!"
"Would I had!--would I had!" replied the Priest, sadly. "But it was
impossible. I set out from Rennes as soon as I received your letter,
and travelled even with far more haste than beseemed my age and my
profession."
We now repaired to the chamber of Monsieur de Villardin, and made
arrangements with the physician--in whom the Confessor appeared to
place full confidence--for carrying into execution what had been
already proposed. It was at once determined that we should each watch
six hours at a time by the couch of the sick man, whose ravings were
certainly of a nature to be kept secret as far as possible. Now he
would call upon the Count de Mesnil--now use harsh and cruel words, as
if towards his wife--now speak of a cunningly devised scheme to end it
all at once--now talk of a bloody grave beneath the oak; and, in
short, he would let drop a thousand wild and whirling words, which,
with all their incoherence, might very well have led to the discovery
of much that he would willingly have concealed, and to the suspicion
of other acts, of which, perhaps, he was innocent, though he never
gave his mind time to remain long enough upon the fearful facts that
busied it, to pour forth anything like a coherent tale in regard to
either of them.
As the physician had now done his part, and as I bore on my face
sufficient traces of fatigue and anxiety, the Confessor took upon
himself the first six hours' watch, saying, that while he sat up he
would write to the uncle of Madame de Villardin, whose domains were
situated in the Orleanois.
I certainly never remember to have been more fatigued, and willingly
took advantage of the good Priest's proposal. As I retired with the
medical man, however, I asked him eagerly what was the state in which
he had found the Duke when we brought him home; and, in reply, he
explained to me that though his skull was not fractured, yet a severe
concussion of the brain had taken place, from his head having struck,
in the fall, either some projecting rock, or some piece of the broken
bridge. From the ravings which had since come on, he feared, he said,
that there was a tendency to inflammation; and on my pressing to know
what would be the result, he shook his head doubtingly, saying, that
the result was in the hands of God alone; he himself could not venture
to give an opinion on the subject.
I did not sleep more than four or five hours, and on rising, proceeded
towards the apartments of Monsieur de Villardin, in order to take my
place by his bedside. I found old Jerome Laborde already there,
however; who, having been made aware of the arrangements of the
preceding night, had come about half an hour before to relieve the
Priest. By this time, the Duke had fallen into a quiet sleep, from
which I augured well; and leaving the old major-domo to hold out his
watch, I descended to the saloon, feeling most oppressively that deep
and shadowy gloom which always seems to fall over a house where such a
sudden and fatal event has taken place as that which distinguished the
foregoing evening. The low voice in which every one spoke when they
met, the stealthy pace with which every one moved about the mansion,
the stillness which pervaded the whole place, expressed the sense of
awe that was felt by every bosom, and had something awful in itself.
All this struck me much as I descended the stairs; but on entering the
saloon, there was something more painful still to be encountered. The
little Laura de Villardin was playing near one of the windows with
some trinkets of her mother's, but the moment I entered, she ran up to
me with open arms, and holding up her fair face towards me, exclaimed,
"Oh! tell me--tell me, where is mamma? Suzette says she is dead, and I
shall never see her again. What does _dead_ mean? Where is she gone
to?"
It was impossible to hear such questions calmly; and for the first
time since my father's death, I wept like a child. Suzette herself now
entered the saloon, and for a moment her eyes and mine met. Whether
what I felt towards her was very visibly expressed in my glance or
not, I cannot tell, but she turned extremely red, and casting down her
eyes, caught the little girl by the arm and drew her rudely out of the
room. In truth, I was not sorry to be spared more questions; and
taking my hat, I walked forth into the park.
The morning was as warm and bright as that of the preceding day; and a
feeling of painful curiosity impelled me directly towards the spot
where the accident had occurred on the night before. I followed the
exact path which I had pursued with Madame de Villardin, and as I
turned from the lateral alley where we had met the Duke, into the
short path which led to the broken bridge, I suddenly saw the form of
Father Ferdinand standing at the very point to which I was directing
my steps. He turned round as I approached, and without any apparent
surprise beckoned me towards him. I walked on at once; and for two or
three minutes after I had come up, we stood gazing together in silence
upon all that remained of the wooden arch which had there spanned
across the river, and which I myself had passed over on horseback not
five days before. Very little of it was now to be seen, for full
twelve feet of the centre had fallen into the river and had been
carried away; but enough still remained attached to the piles at the
sides to show, in some degree, the manner of the accident, though not
the cause. The nails which had fixed the cross supports to the rafters
had either given way or had been drawn out; and the two main beams
which upheld the whole, having been deprived of everything that
strengthened them, had broken at the side nearest the château, and,
dragged down by their own weight from the piles on the other bank of
the river, had fallen with the rest of the wood-work into the current,
and been carried away.
A part, however, of one of them remained, as I have said, attached to
the side where we stood; and after contemplating the whole for some
time in silence, the Priest laid his hand upon my arm, as he saw my
eyes fixed upon the broken beams, and he asked, in a tone half stern,
half sorrowful, "Do you remark nothing there, my son?"
I stooped down and looked more closely, but still kept silence; and he
added, "Then I will ask you, in plainer terms, do you not perceive the
marks of a saw?"
"I am afraid I do," replied I, rising up.
"It is enough," he said, and with his foot pushed the fragments of the
beams over into the water, which was easily accomplished, as all that
held them had already been nearly wrenched out by the breaking down of
the rest of the bridge. Father Ferdinand and myself gazed at each
other for several moments with sad and bitter hearts, and then,
feeling that nothing more need be said between us, we each turned on
our way without another word. Father Ferdinand took the path back to
the château, but I walked on towards Juvigny, in the sad hope of
hearing from good Jacques Marlot that the body of Madame de Villardin
had been found. On my arrival, however, I learned that Madame Marlot
herself, who, it seems, was in a delicate situation, had been so
agitated and alarmed by all the disturbance and anxiety of the
preceding night, as to be obliged to keep her bed that morning; and
the large-nosed Bretonne servante, who gave me these tidings, added,
that her master was gone over to the gate of the convent, and that I
should certainly meet him there if I walked that way.
I did as she suggested, and met Jacques Marlot returning from the
convent; but he informed me that no trace had been discovered of the
body of Madame de Villardin; and as his wife was ill, I turned back
towards the château. As I passed by the bridge again, I found Gaspard
de Belleville, and one or two of the servants, examining the spot
where the fatal event had occurred; and it was not difficult for me to
perceive that the whole household looked upon the page and myself as
irreconcilable enemies, by the manner in which the servants drew away
from his side when I approached. As I had most scrupulously avoided
mentioning even his name to any one when not absolutely called upon to
do so, it must have been from Gaspard himself that the domestics had
learned that any degree of enmity existed between us. At all events,
their having discovered the fact was by no means to his advantage; for
as my good will was of more value in the family than his, from the
circumstances in which I stood in regard to the Duke, my favour was of
course more courted, and it often happened that it was courted at his
expense.
As I wished to be asked no questions upon the subject, I passed on,
without noticing any one, and after an hour or two spent in the
melancholy rooms of the château, I went to take the place of good
Jerome Laborde. While I watched by Monsieur de Villardin, he woke from
the sleep into which he had fallen; but so far from my anticipations
of amendment being realized, he appeared infinitely more delirious
than ever. His words, however, were now so incoherent and wild, that
the most suspicious ear could have drawn no meaning from them; and
thus luckily they continued through the rest of his illness. For
nearly a fortnight he remained in the same condition, but at the end
of that period a material change for the better began to manifest
itself, and the ravings to which he had been subject ceased entirely;
though by this time he was reduced to a state of infant weakness.
Innumerable visiters had presented themselves at the château, as the
tidings spread through the country; and all who could hope to obtain
anything by his death were most assiduous and tender in their
inquiries. Shortly before he recovered his reason, also, the Count de
Loris, the uncle of his late wife--warned of Madame de Villardin's
death by a letter from Father Ferdinand, with whom he was well
acquainted--appeared at the château, and took up his abode there for
the time; but as he had never heard of any dissensions between his
niece and her husband, and care was taken not to make him aware of the
painful state in which they had lived for the last five or six months,
the good old Count expressed, and I believe felt, as much anxiety in
regard to Monsieur de Villardin as if he had been his own son. His
manners were simple and kind to all around him, and when informed by
Father Ferdinand of the share I had borne in several of the late
events, he embraced me tenderly, and after thanking me repeatedly,
made me relate every particular in regard to the accident which had
befallen his unhappy niece. The warm tears coursed each other down his
cheeks as I proceeded, and when I had ended, he said, "If ever I can
serve you, young gentleman, let me know. I am a man of few words, but
I mean what I say."
I gave him full credit for doing so, and I only did him justice. After
the delirium had left Monsieur de Villardin, his health continued to
improve every hour; but still it was the most painful convalescence
that ever I beheld. He scarcely spoke a word to any one, and his eyes
roamed round those that surrounded his bed with a searching and
anxious glance, that was terrible to those who understood the feelings
in which it arose. When he began to speak again, it was but one word
at a time, and even then he confined himself to the name of any object
that he wanted at the moment.
As soon as the physician judged it prudent, Monsieur de Loris was
brought into his bed-chamber, and took his hand affectionately; but
the Duke turned his head away, and pressed his eyes upon the pillows,
as if to avoid the sight and all its concomitant ideas. The good old
Count went on to comfort him in a kindly tone, but not knowing the
truth, he followed the most painful track he could pursue, and by
addressing a man who had destroyed his own happiness as he would have
done one who suffered alone under the bereaving hand of fate, he
poured gall and wormwood into all the consolations he offered.
The shock, however, though terrible, was not without a good effect,
for it seemed to rouse the unhappy Duke from the dull despair that
overwhelmed him, and, at all events, it broke the first dreadful
feelings of returning to scenes which had each its own peculiar
associations of agony to pour forth upon him.
Still, the day that he first came forth from his own chamber was full
of misery. The sun was shining through all the windows, checkering the
staircases and saloons with gay and gladsome light. Under the
directions of Father Ferdinand, everything had been removed which had
peculiarly belonged to the Duchess, and alterations had been made, in
various ways, to break in every direction the chain of associations
which we knew could alone prove painful. Monsieur de Villardin's eye,
however, still wandered wildly over every object around, and I do not
know that it was not really more distressing to him to miss all the
objects he expected to see, than it would have been to find them in
their accustomed places.
I heard him mutter to himself, "They are all gone!--they are all
gone!" and sinking into the fauteuil in which he had been accustomed
to sit when in the saloon, he covered his eyes with his hands, and
remained musing for several minutes. At that moment the door of the
room was gently opened, and Mademoiselle de Villardin, warned and
persuaded by every means in our power to be careful of what she said
and did, was led in by Monsieur de Loris. The Duke heard the door
open, and withdrawing his hand from his eyes, saw his child for the
first time since the death of her mother. He had scarcely been able to
reach the saloon with the assistance of two people, but when his eyes
fell upon his daughter, he started up without aid, sprang forward, and
catching her to his heart, burst into a passionate fit of tears.
Father Ferdinand and myself supported him to a seat, but still he held
his little girl in his arms, and weeping bitterly, every now and then
drew back her head from his bosom to gaze upon her face, which that
day bore--or seemed to me to bear--a more striking likeness to her
mother than ever I had before remarked. She on her part was silent,
but wept too, mingling the tears with which she bedewed her father's
bosom with kisses pressed upon his cheek. The physician would fain
have put an end to such a scene, but when he proposed to remove the
young lady, the Duke turned round, saying mildly, but firmly, "She
must remain! It does me good!"
I believe most sincerely that it did, and certainly from that moment
his health improved much more rapidly than it had previously done.
Each day he regained strength, and gradually, by walking out upon the
terrace, and driving forth in a carriage, he acquired sufficient
vigour to mount his horse, and thenceforward might be considered well,
at least in body.
It was necessary, indeed, that he should recover strength, for there
were still many painful things to do which could not be much longer
postponed. M. de Loris had now been nearly a month at the château, and
was of course anxious to return to his own dwelling; yet, as his niece
had brought to Monsieur de Villardin, at her marriage, an estate
called Virmont, in the Orleanois, which had been settled upon her with
all the peculiar forms and agreements that enter into a French
marriage contract, it became necessary to make some arrangements in
regard to this property, which of course reverted entirely to her
daughter. M. de Loris felt that to speak long upon such a subject
would be inflicting much pain upon both the Duke and himself, and
therefore he had procrastinated for some days, when, suddenly, one
morning, as we were driving out in the neighbourhood, Monsieur de
Villardin, who had been agitated by the same feelings, began the
conversation himself, and concluded it in fewer words than it
otherwise would have required.
"Monsieur de Loris," he said, with a degree of calmness which showed
how he had tutored his mind to the point, "I have long thought of
speaking to you in regard to Virmont. Although, of course, I am my
beloved child's only guardian and protector, yet, under present
circumstances, I do not choose to hold the property which is now hers
any longer, even as her guardian. It is contiguous to your own land,
and I have therefore to request that you would kindly take charge of
it, manage the rents, invest them to the best advantage, and make the
whole over to Laura when she marries or becomes of age."
The Count made some opposition, although he acknowledged that the
confidence of the Duke was highly grateful and flattering to him.
Monsieur de Villardin sighed deeply, but replied, "You must, my dear
Count, allow me to have my will in this respect. Accept the trust, I
beseech you; and as we may all feel very sure that my remaining years
will be few, I have named you in some papers that I drew up yesterday
for a still more important charge, which I must entreat you to
undertake. It is that of one of the guardians to my child when I am
dead."
The reply was such as might be expected, but the conversation ended in
Monsieur de Loris accepting both the offices which Monsieur de
Villardin put upon him. A few days after, the necessary papers were
brought, drawn up in legal form, and having been read in silence by
both parties, were duly signed. The next morning the Count de Loris
left us, pouring upon Monsieur de Villardin expressions of affection
and esteem, every one of which went home to his heart like a dagger.
The Duke seemed relieved when he was gone; but there seemed still
another painful task to be performed; at least I judged so from the
anxious expression of his eyes, as he sometimes turned them upon the
face of the Confessor.
At length, one morning, after walking for half an hour upon the
terrace, he turned to Father Ferdinand, who at the moment was coming
forth into the garden to take his customary stroll with me, and said,
"Now, good Father, I am ready, if you can do me the favour."
"It is one that must never be refused, my son," replied the Priest; "I
follow you:" and they turned towards the château. Both had become
somewhat paler as they spoke; and in about two hours afterwards I was
joined by the Priest, with a countenance on which strong and terrible
emotions had left traces which could not be mistaken. He tried to
appear calm, indeed, and succeeded in a certain degree, by speaking
for some time of indifferent things. At length, when he had obtained
command of himself, he said, "In the letter which you wrote to me when
I was at Rennes, and which brought me so suddenly back to the château,
you said, my son, that you really doubted the sanity of Monsieur de
Villardin, from the extraordinary change that had come over him. Now
tell me truly, I beseech you, was that an expression hazarded without
attaching to it its full meaning; or was it your real conviction at
the time that the mind of your friend was unhealthily affected? It is
of much consequence that I should know."
"I will tell you, my good Father, most sincerely,"--I replied, seeing
that the feelings of the Confessor were, in truth, most deeply
interested; "Indeed I will give you an answer that will show you I
speak without reserve. Did I not believe, then, that during the four
or five days preceding the dreadful accident which lately happened,
the mind of Monsieur de Villardin was decidedly deranged, I would not
stay in his house another hour."
"It is enough, my son, it is enough," replied the Priest. "So thinks
the physician,--and so he thinks himself," added the Confessor, in a
lower tone; giving what he said more the appearance of a reflection
addressed to himself than to me. "And yet," he continued, "his mind
must have been dreadfully worked upon by others: at least, it would
seem so from all that I can hear in the house."
"The more reason, Father," I replied, "for supposing that their
irritating suggestions had affected his brain. People seldom go mad
without some cause, unless they are very madly disposed indeed."
The Priest mused; and, after a long pause, he replied, "Well, well,
let us always lean to the side of charity. We are all too fallible to
judge rigidly."
I saw that the fear of approaching, even in the slightest degree, the
facts which had been confided to him under the seal of confession,
prevented Father Ferdinand from speaking with me more candidly upon a
subject which occupied so great a part in the thoughts of both at that
time. Of course I did not press the topic, and the conversation turned
to other matters.
What I had said to him was, nevertheless, true; for certainly had I
not believed that, for several days before the death of Madame de
Villardin, the Duke himself had been positively insane, I would,
without hesitation, have restored to him all his gifts, and would have
quitted for ever a man to whom I could not help attaching, in my own
mind, the darkest of suspicions. But his whole previous conduct had so
firmly impressed me with the idea, that at no period between my return
from St. Malo and the death of his unhappy wife, had he possessed the
complete command of his own reason, that I felt him to be more an
object of pity than of censure. Even more--regarding his conduct in
this light, and looking upon him as one whose happiness had been cast
away for ever, under the influence of mental disease, all that had
occurred proved a strong, though mournful tie, which bound me to him
more firmly than ever; and when I remembered the promise which I had
so shortly before made to this unhappy lady who was now no more, I
determined that no time nor circumstances should ever induce me to
quit entirely the child that she had left, till I saw her hand given
to some one who would have the right and power to protect her. I say
that my determination was not to quit her _entirely_, because the
conduct of Monsieur de Villardin towards me, since his recovery had
been such, that I knew not whether he either desired my longer abode
with him, or whether it was to be upon such terms as I could now alone
endure.
Although no son could have attended upon a father with more care and
anxiety than I had done upon him, yet he had scarcely addressed ten
words to me since his convalescence began. Those that he had spoken,
indeed, had always been kind and affectionate; and I had often caught
his eyes fixed upon me with a look of intense interest,--mournful,
perhaps painful, but still full of regard and feeling. Nevertheless,
the strangeness of his silence, which I ought to have attributed to
other causes, made me anxious and unhappy; and, as I was not a person
to express any of that loud indignation for ill-requited kindness,
which is sure to pile contempt upon ingratitude, I frequently thought
of asking his permission, calmly and tranquilly, but firmly and
urgently, to return to Paris, and to mingle in the scenes of strife
and turmoil which were again beginning to agitate the unquiet capital
of France.
I was saved, however, from the pain which such a request would have
occasioned to us both. On the day following that in the course of
which I had reason to believe he had relieved his bosom of the load
that weighed upon his heart, and had poured forth both his sorrows and
his faults to the ears of the Confessor, he beckoned me immediately
after breakfast towards his library, and led the way thither himself.
I followed, and closed the door; and as soon as I had done so, he put
his hand upon my shoulder, and gazing in my face with an expression
of deep grief, he said, "Why--why, my dear boy, did you save my
life?--why--why did you preserve me to daily sorrow and continual
regret?"
Although I was seldom destitute of a reply, his question might have
been a painful one to answer, had not my conversations with Father
Ferdinand given me altogether a new view of human life from that which
I had formerly entertained.
"My lord," I answered, boldly, "every man, I have heard, has something
to repent of in this world, and it is always better to have time here,
where repentance avails us, than to go where it is a punishment
instead of a penance."
"You say true,--you say true," replied the Duke; "and I thank you for
the life you have preserved, as well as for the kindness and the
courage which prompted and enabled you to preserve it." He paused for
a moment thoughtfully, and then proceeded: "You have thought me cold,
unkind, ungrateful, since I have recovered life and health; but it has
not been so. I have felt all that you have done for me; I have seen
all that you have felt for me; and I have a thousand times longed to
thank you for the whole; but ever, when I was about to speak, all the
horrible memories which are in your heart and in mine, have risen up
before me, and compelled me to silence. I have scarcely had courage
even to address you, much less to speak with you on subjects connected
with the terrible past."
Such an explanation was more than sufficient, and the pain of it once
over, all further difficulty or reserve between us was at an end. He
spoke some time longer with me in the library; and though he alluded
but vaguely and remotely to the past, yet he did speak of it more than
once with that sort of lingering tendency which a man always has to
return, in conversation with others, to any subject that occupies all
his thoughts when alone. At length, taking a key from the table, he
said, "I have a fearful task before me, but one which I promised to
execute myself. Nevertheless, I confess my heart so plays the coward
with me that I am afraid to enter those rooms alone. You must go with
me, at least as far as the ante-room, and wait for me there till my
task is concluded."
Although he did not mention what rooms he meant, yet as I had heard
from the old major-domo that Father Ferdinand had, with his own hands,
closed and sealed the apartments of Madame de Villardin immediately
after his arrival at the château, I easily divined that it was to
those chambers that the Duke now alluded. I instantly prepared to
follow, but still ventured to ask whether he had not better desire the
good Priest to accompany him in the sad duty he was about to perform.
He shook his head gloomily, and replied, "No, no, I must go alone;"
and then, with a pale cheek and wavering steps, took his way up the
great staircase. His hand shook so fearfully that he could scarcely
remove the seal, and turn the key in the lock of Madame de Villardin's
chamber door; and sitting down in the ante-room he paused for several
minutes, in order to gain strength for the undertaking. At length he
started up abruptly, exclaiming, "Now!" and entering her bed-room,
which communicated with a dressing-room on the other side, he closed
the door behind him. Full of sad thoughts, I stood gazing out of the
lattice for some time; but at the end of about a quarter of an hour, I
heard the ante-room door open, and turning my head round without any
noise, perceived Madame Suzette stealing quietly in, and looking about
her. As soon as she perceived me she halted; and, with as much
abhorrence as ever I felt towards any loathsome reptile in my life, I
walked forward, and taking her by the arm, turned her quietly but
firmly towards the door.
Thinking, probably, that I was there alone, she seemed about to take
some noisy notice of my unceremonious ejection of her pretty person;
but, pointing sternly towards the bed-chamber, I whispered, "The Duke
is there;" and, glad to get off unobserved, she tripped away as
quietly and speedily as possible. I kept my silent and now undisturbed
watch in the ante-room for nearly two hours, and all seemed so still
and quiet within the chamber beyond, that I began at length to feel
alarmed lest the excitement and agitation which Monsieur de Villardin
had evidently experienced when he entered, should have overpowered him
in the course of his undertaking.
He came forth, however, just as I was about to open the door, and was
evidently calmer and more firm than when he had left me, though I
should say that the expression of deep, stern grief, which had now
become habitual to his countenance, was, if anything, a shade deeper
than before.
"Did I not hear another step than yours about an hour ago?" were the
first words he spoke. I replied in the affirmative, and told him at
once who it was that had intruded. He looked at me for a moment or two
with a sort of inquiring glance, as if he sought to read something in
my heart ere he himself spoke.
"Suzette!" he said, thoughtfully; "I have been thinking of keeping her
here to take charge of Laura."
My feelings burst forth whether I would or not, and I exclaimed,
"What! give the care of the daughter to her who calumniated the
mother!"
The retort was so sudden and so unexpected that the Duke started; and
gazed at me for a moment, with a look in which I thought I could trace
no slight anger at my rash exclamation. I had spoken the truth,
however, though I had spoken it too boldly and unadvisedly, and I was
not to be abashed while such a conviction was at my heart; but casting
down my eyes, I waited calmly for the rebuke that I doubted not was to
follow. But Monsieur de Villardin paused, and for several moments
uttered not a word; till at length, grasping my arm, he said in a low,
but emphatic tone,--
"However you made the discovery, young man, you say true. She did
calumniate her mistress! For though there is still much to be
accounted for, which, probably, will never in this world receive an
explanation, yet I were worse than base to doubt the proofs of virtue
and of love with which those cabinets have furnished me. I heap coals
of fire upon my own head by yielding to the conviction; I inflict the
tortures of hell already on my heart by making the acknowledgment; but
I own before you, who probably have seen more deeply into my weakness
and my madness than any human being, that I did that beloved girl
false and shameful wrong, and that from my soul I believe her--now
that it is too late--to have been as pure as purity itself."
He trembled as he spoke with the very energy of his feelings, though
every tone was as low as a lover's whisper, and when he had concluded,
he sank down into a seat, and gazed at vacancy, giving way, I am sure,
to all that longing, burning thirst to recal the past, which every one
at some time feels amidst the errors and the faults of life.
It was long ere he recovered himself; but when he did so, he called my
attention to a letter that he held in his hand, saying, that it
concerned me as well as himself. The handwriting was that of Madame de
Villardin, and the epistle covered two sheets of paper, one of which
he gave me to peruse, after having made an ineffectual effort to read
it to me himself. I remember the contents almost word for word, and
put down here that part which most interested me at the time.
"I mean not to reproach you, my lord," it went on, after a broken
sentence at the top of the page; "far, far from it; and I only thus
assert my innocence of even one evil thought; I only thus attempt to
prove that I could not have been guilty; I only thus depict all that I
have suffered, in order that you may love our children when I am dead,
and grant me, in dying, a few not very burdensome requests. I repeat
again, that without knowing why, I am convinced that I shall not
survive many months. Nor does this conviction arise in the common
terror of women in my present situation. On the contrary, I fear not
to die; and now that I am deprived of your affection, I have nothing
to attach me to the world but the dear child that we both love, and
the one which is yet unborn. Still I feel that death is not far from
me; and therefore these lines, which will never meet your eye till I
am dead, may well be looked upon as my dying words. Oh then, my lord,
I beseech you to love the children that I leave you with tender and
equal affection; and should a regret at any time cross your mind for
sorrows inflicted on their mother, make me atonement by your affection
for them. If ever the spirits of the dead be permitted to watch over
those they loved while living, my soul shall follow you and our
children through existence, and every kind word or deed towards them
shall be received as wiping away some unmerited reproach or some harsh
act towards myself.
"My next request is, that you would yourself confirm and sanction an
engagement which I caused the young Englishman, who has since saved
our daughter from a watery grave, to enter into in regard to our
children. Your fate, my lord, is, of course, uncertain; and how long
you may be permitted to guard and protect them no one can tell. I have
heard much of this young gentleman and his history, both from yourself
and from others, and I have myself seen that he is always prompt to
succour and defend, and that his knowledge of the world, in all its
changes and disguises, is extraordinary for one so young. As it is
more than probable that he will grow up with our children as an elder
brother, I have made him promise that he will never wholly leave them,
but will always come forward to give them aid and assistance, wherever
you may be, whenever they may need his help. In making this request to
him I felt sure that I could not be doing wrong, as the person whom I
besought to undertake the task, and whom I entreated, while you acted
towards my children as a father, to act towards them as a brother, is
one in whom you yourself seem to place the fullest confidence; but I
have since been confirmed in what I have done by the opinion of our
excellent friend and spiritual guide, Father Ferdinand, who not only
assures me that this young gentleman's goodness of heart and rectitude
of judgment may be depended on, but undertakes boldly that in case of
my death, you shall sanction my conduct, induce him to repeat his
promise, and give him every opportunity of executing it, both during
your life and after your death.
"My requests, I think, are now all made, except that you would bestow
upon my servants the sums which I have written down upon the paper
attached to this letter, and that you would assign to the convent of
Ursulines at Juvigny the thousand crowns of revenue which, with your
consent, I promised them on the birth of our daughter, and which has
never been formally made over to them. Besides this, I trust that you
will give a thousand livres to the church of St. Peter at Rennes, to
be expended in masses for my soul; and as my last request, I beseech
you to think of me kindly, and when I am dead, to do that justice to
my memory which you have not done to my faith and honour while
living."
I could well conceive, as I read these words, how poignantly they must
have gone home to the heart of Monsieur de Villardin; and even as I
read them in silence before him, I could see from his eye,--which was
fixed upon my face, scanning its expression from line to line,--that
he again mentally ran over all which that paper contained, and
inflicted on his own heart every gentle word as the most severe of
punishments.
"Do you undertake the task?" he demanded, when I had done.
"I have already done so, my lord," I replied; "and I never forget my
word."
"Your task may become a strange and a difficult one," he said, musing;
"but never mind," he added, abruptly, and at the same time rising,
"whatever comes of it, so it shall be. I on my part promise, before
Heaven and before you, on my hope of pardon, and on my honour as a
man, to give you every means of executing what you have undertaken,
and to take such measures as will secure you the same opportunity
should I die. She said right," he continued, holding out his hand to
me; "she said right, poor girl; you do possess my confidence most
fully; none ever possessed it so much; and would to God, would to God,
that you had possessed it more! Oh, had I but trusted your words! oh
God! oh God! that it should now be all beyond recall!" and he groaned
bitterly under the torture of remorse.
"Tell me," he cried, after a long pause, "tell me! do you know of any
cause which that woman--that Suzette had to hate her mistress?"
"Personally I know of none," I answered; "but, if I mistake not, good
old Jerome Laborde could assign sufficient reasons for all her
malice."
"I will inquire!" he rejoined, "I will inquire!" and carefully locking
the doors, he turned away from the apartments of his dead wife.
The agitation and exertion he had gone through, however, had been too
much for him; and ere he reached his library, towards which his steps
were directed in the first instance, he was obliged to turn to his own
chamber, and lie down to rest for the remainder of the day. The next
morning early, good old Jerome Laborde was summoned to his master's
presence, and I fully believe, in his fright,--for he held Monsieur de
Villardin in great awe--he would either have prevaricated so
desperately as not to obtain credence for his tale, or he would have
denied any knowledge of Suzette's behaviour altogether. I luckily,
however, saw him before he went, and exhorted him to tell the whole
truth exactly as it was; and I conclude he did so, though I was not
present.
Whatever took place, the result was but just; for no sooner was his
conference over with Monsieur de Villardin, than the good major-domo
came forth, armed with authority to send forth Madame Suzette, with
all her moveables, without allowing her to sleep another night in the
house.
Some time was, indeed, consumed in her preparations; but as I had
notice from Jerome of the order he had received, and I intended to
spend the greater part of the day in my own apartments, I certainly
did not expect to see Suzette more. I was astonished, however, by the
door of my little saloon being thrown unceremoniously open about two
hours after; and in walked the soubrette, with an air of determined
effrontery which I have seldom seen surpassed in man or woman.
"I have come, Monsieur l'Anglais," she said, making me a mock
courtesy, "to take my leave of you before I go, and to thank you for
all your kindness. I am not unaware of all your good offices, and as I
shall not in all probability be very far off, I shall take good care
to repay them. I do not doubt that some opportunity will occur; in the
meantime, farewell!" and without waiting any reply, she walked out of
the room, leaving all the doors open behind her as she went.
CHAPTER XX.
As it is not so much the history of other people that I am writing as
my own, I must now speak for a few minutes of myself, and of all that
had been going on during some years in the little world of my own
bosom. During the last six months, a greater change had taken place in
my mind and my character than I ever remember to have felt at any
other period of my life,--though I suppose that there is no epoch in
man's existence, when his feelings and disposition may be considered
as so irrevocably fixed as to be unsusceptible, during the rest of his
days, of change or modification. The original fabric of the mind, of
course, remains the same; but--as education shares with nature in the
character of each human being, and as life is but a continual
education,--I feel convinced that we go on altering from the cradle to
the grave. The tree grows up and spreads, and certainly remains for
ever the ash, the elm, or the oak that it first sprouted from the
ground; but its form, and appearance, and size, and strength, and
beauty are changed by winds, and storms, and circumstances, and
accidents, and position, and time; and so, I am convinced, it is with
the human heart. We are all change throughout our being; and were it
not for a few remaining traits, a few slight traces, of early
predilections and original character, it would be very difficult for
the old man or the man of middle age to prove, even to himself, from
the state of his own mind, his identity with the young man or the boy.
The alterations which had taken place in my own mind and feelings,
however, within the last six months, had been so great and rapid, that
they were even remarkable to myself, and now form, in memory, an epoch
from which I date a new and distinct course of being. My corporeal
frame, it is true, was also undergoing a change, and rising rapidly,
almost prematurely, towards manhood; but my mind was also affected, in
a manner totally distinct and apart, by the scenes in which I mingled,
by the persons with whom I conversed, and by the deep feelings, strong
passions, and awful events, in all of which I took a part. Scarcely a
year before, scenes of bloodshed and slaughter, energetic attempts and
dangerous enterprises, had passed around me as a sort of pageant in
which I acted my part, without any deep or lasting impression--without
any great thought or excited passion. It had been all a sort of
youthful sport to me, which--although I suffered some inconveniences,
felt some sorrows, and encountered many dangers--was, upon the whole,
more a matter of amusement than of pain. My first deep grief was
occasioned by the death of my father. My first strongly-roused passion
was the thirst for vengeance upon the man that had slain him. After
that came my connexion with Lord Masterton, and certainly the love and
affection that I felt towards him, and the interest I took in his fate
and in that of the Lady Emily, prepared the way for what I was now
feeling: but still it was all very, very different from my intense
participation in the passions and the sorrows of Monsieur and Madame
de Villardin, and equally so from the sensations of gloom and awe,
which the sad events that were passing around me impressed upon my
mind. The effect of my conversations with Father Ferdinand I have
already related; and under the influence of the whole together, I
found my heart losing rapidly its boyish lightness, and becoming, day
by day, susceptible of more deep and powerful sympathies than I ever
dreamed it was possible to feel. If I may use the expression, during
the last six months I had been educated in the school of dark and
vehement passions, and the lessons that I had received had been at
least so far instructive as to teach me, whatever I felt, to feel
deeply. The boldness and decision of my conduct in former times had
proceeded both from the promptness of determination which my father
had inculcated, and from the habit which I had acquired amidst scenes
of turbulence and confusion, of valuing human life and all connected
with it as a mere nothing; but now, although I had learned to estimate
almost everything differently, yet, by having been taught to feel a
deep and personal interest in all with whom I became connected, I had
acquired a new and stronger motive for exercising the same promptitude
in all circumstances, and employing even more vigorously than before
all the best energies of my mind.
Such had become my feelings at the time when Monsieur de Villardin
recovered; and, even in watching by his sick bed, I had experienced
the greatest difference between the sensations which I then felt
towards him, and those which I remembered having undergone in
attending upon Lord Masterton under somewhat similar circumstances.
For Lord Masterton, indeed, I had felt as much affection and more
esteem; but towards Monsieur de Villardin pity and regret, and many
other mingled sensations, rendered my feelings of interest far more
deep and intense. There were memories and ties between us that could
never be broken; there was the confidence of dark and secret acts that
could never be forgotten--there was many a deed of kindness and of
feeling, too, which no conduct towards others could cancel as regarded
myself; and even my very suspicions in respect to the last terrible
catastrophe were in themselves a source of mournful, painful, but
profound interest.
Such, then, as I have said, were my feelings when Monsieur de
Villardin recovered; and if I had sympathised with him even under his
madness and his errors, how much more was my affection increased
towards him by the conduct that he subsequently pursued! The deep
grief, the bitter remorse, the stern self-condemnation which he
evidently felt, increased my esteem without diminishing my interest;
and his conduct to myself, which I have related in the last chapter,
scarcely gratified me so much, I confess, as his contemptuous
dismissal of her who had traduced his injured wife.
The absence of Madame Suzette was most indubitably a relief to the
whole house, with the exception, perhaps, of one person in it. Even
Mademoiselle de Villardin, young as she was, seemed to take a part in
the general satisfaction; for she had already, though why I know not,
acquired a distaste to the soubrette, which had been strongly apparent
even before her mother's death, as well as a partiality for the
Duchess's second woman, Lise, who now became the young lady's
principal attendant.
The departure of Suzette was followed close by that of another person,
who, though not so generally disliked in the household, was but little
more amiable, at least in my eyes, than the soubrette herself. This
was Gaspard de Belleville; but it would seem that Monsieur de
Villardin had various motives for not dismissing him at once from his
family with the same unceremonious decision which he had evinced
towards the woman; and, therefore, waited for an opportunity of
placing him in a situation, where the road to honour and distinction
was open to him, if he chose to follow it.
The first occasion that presented itself also gave rise to a temporary
separation between Monsieur de Villardin and myself, and may require
some further explanation than could be afforded by a mere detail of
the circumstances which took place at the château. When Monsieur de
Villardin had quitted Paris in haste, he had left the Regency
triumphant. The Parliament had become the devoted slave of the Court.
The generals had made their peace. The young King, the Queen-mother,
and the Cardinal had entered Paris, and regained greater power than
ever; and the only shadow of an independent faction that remained
consisted in the union of the lower classes, led and headed by the
Cardinal de Retz and the Duke of Beaufort. Mazarin ruled everything;
but he soon began to find that a friend, to whose services he owed
everything, might be more difficult to manage than even an enemy. The
Prince de Condé had restored him to authority, and brought back the
Court in triumph: but, young, vehement, and hasty, he considered his
claims as inexhaustible, and the slightest opposition he looked upon
as an insult. Supported by his brother-in-law, the Duke de
Longueville, by his brother, the Prince de Conti, and a number of the
first nobles of the land, he soon aimed at governing the state,
opposed the Court in all its proceedings, dictated to the Regent, and
insulted the minister. The crafty Italian, however, now feeling
himself more secure, determined at once to coalesce with his former
enemies, in order to punish one, who, from his protector, had changed
into his tyrant. To the party of the Fronde, led by the Cardinal de
Retz, the great Condé was, for the time, as much an object of hate and
jealousy as he was to Mazarin himself; and, for the purpose of
revenging upon him the former defeats of the Parisians, De Retz
willingly joined with the minister, for whom he entertained the most
thorough contempt. Taken by surprise in the very palace itself, the
Princes of Condé and Conti, and the Duke de Longueville, were arrested
by the captain of the Queen's guards, and were hurried off as fast as
possible to the castle of Vincennes. Terror immediately seized upon
all their partisans, and one half the nobility of France fled from
Paris on the day of their arrest. Mary de Bourbon, Duchess of
Longueville, breathing indignation against the enemy of her brothers
and her husband, made her escape into Normandy, accompanied by about
sixty horsemen, and declared that she would once more raise the
standard of civil war. The Duke de Bouillon fled towards the south
with the same purpose; the Maréchal de Luxembourg took the way to
Burgundy; and the celebrated Turenne himself, proceeding into
Champagne, instantly avowed himself the partisan of the Princes, and
levied troops for their deliverance.
Though such was the general feeling of the principal nobles of the
French Court, very different, indeed, were the sentiments of the
people of Paris upon the arrest of the Princes. Led by De Retz and
Beaufort, and remembering the insults and defeats which Condé had
inflicted upon them, the citizens of the capital could hardly find
means sufficient to express their joy at the indignity offered to the
greatest man of the country. Shouts and songs signalized his downfal.
Bonfires blazed at every corner. Even the obnoxious minister himself
was enthusiastically applauded for his ingratitude to his deliverer
and protector; and every one declared that after this act, the
Cardinal himself was no longer a Mazarin.
Various rumours of these occurrences, which had taken place early in
the year, had reached us in our retirement at Dumont; but I need not
tell the reader that we had quite sufficient matter in the events of
our private life to occupy all our thoughts. Even had it not been so,
it is more than probable that Monsieur de Villardin would have avoided
taking any part in the civil dissensions of the time, as he might have
found some difficulty in choosing the party to which he would give his
support. Bound by ties of intimate regard to the Prince de Condé, he
felt, of course, anxious for his liberation; and although he had
opposed the Prince himself in the cause of the Parliament, he was
naturally of a loyal disposition. It is true that, like all the rest
of the world at that time, he was destined to change his party more
than once, but beyond doubt his own feelings naturally led him towards
the Court. Under these circumstances, in all probability, he would, as
I have said, have remained neuter, notwithstanding that continual
desire for activity which Lord Langleigh had noticed at the time I was
first introduced to him: but about the period of which I speak, an
application was made to him, which--coming as it did at a moment when
any sort of employment offered the prospect of relief from those
bitter and consuming thoughts that preyed upon him,--proved
irresistible.
About three days after the dismissal of Madame Suzette, I was riding
by the side of the Duke in one of the roads leading direct to the
château, when we were suddenly encountered by a horseman coming at
full speed, who paused and drew up his horse as soon as he perceived
our party. Singling out Monsieur de Villardin, he at once rode up to
him, and delivered a sealed packet, which was received with that sort
of listless air which a combination of sickness and despondency had
left behind upon the Duke, who demanded carelessly, "From whom?"
"From the Princess de Condé, and the Dukes of Bouillon and
Rochefoucault," replied the courier.
Three names so friendly to his ears caused Monsieur de Villardin to
show a greater degree of interest than he had done at first; and,
turning his horse, he bade the messenger follow, and rode back to the
château. After dismounting, he retired to read his letters alone; and,
as our proposed ride was thus brought to an end, I proceeded to join
Father Ferdinand, whom I had seen walking in the park as we passed.
I strolled up and down the different alleys with him for nearly an
hour; and though, of course, the deep shadow of the past still
overhung us both, our conversation was lighter than usual; and the
arrival of the messenger from the Princess de Condé furnished us with
a subject, which soon led us to the political events of the day. With
these Father Ferdinand was much better acquainted than myself; and, in
his brief but perspicuous manner, he gave me a clear view of all that
had been lately passing in the capital. The detail was over, and we
were moralising upon the facts, when a servant approached in
breathless haste, telling me that he and several of his fellows had
been seeking me everywhere, as the Duke had demanded to see me some
time before. I followed at once, and found Monsieur de Villardin in
his library with the letters still before him.
"Here are important tidings, and important requests," he said,
pointing to the papers as I entered; "and, among other things to which
they give rise, there is an expedition for you to perform, if you will
undertake it." He looked up as he spoke, for my reply; and I answered,
that anything with which he might think fit to charge me, I should
feel honoured in performing; and he thus went on:--
"No, no; you must follow your own judgment, when you have heard what
it is, John Marston. There may be danger in the case, my boy; and
certainly some fatigue and exertion must be expended on the task. Tell
me first, what you know of the events which have lately occurred in
the capital. Are you aware that the Prince de Condé and his brother,
as well as Monsieur de Longueville, are both in prison at Vincennes?"
I replied, that I was well aware of the facts he mentioned, and added
several others which I had learned both from general rumour, and from
the more correct account of Father Ferdinand.
"Well, then, you know fully sufficient to judge of the risk," replied
Monsieur de Villardin. "You can easily conceive that this notorious
piece of injustice, committed in the case of three such distinguished
persons, has set all France in a flame; and almost every man of
honourable feeling is now putting his foot in the stirrup to compel
the Cardinal to liberate the Princes. Monsieur de Bouillon here
informs me, that the cause in Guienne is in the most hopeful state;
and adjures me, both by my regard for him and by my regard for the
Prince de Condé, to join him immediately with what force I can
collect.
"At the same time, the Princess de Condé, while making a similar
request, does not conceal that, by the influence used in Paris, she
trusts to see her husband at liberty in a few weeks. Now, as the only
motive which could induce me to join the party of the Princes would be
their continued imprisonment, I much desire, without calling attention
upon myself, to ascertain the real state of the negotiations in
Paris."
He then explained to me, that it was his wish I should instantly set
out for the capital, and, conferring with Gourville--an attendant of
the Duke de Rochefoucault, then in Paris, employed in endeavouring to
effect the liberation of the Princes,--that I should make myself fully
acquainted with every particular of their situation. At the same time
he proposed to send Gaspard de Belleville to the Duke de Bouillon and
the Princess de Condé, charged with a message to the purport that he
would join them at the end of three weeks, if he found that the
Princes were not likely to be liberated within a month.
Of course, I willingly undertook the task; and I could plainly see
also that Monsieur de Villardin, although he was unwilling to commit
himself again with the Court, was secretly delighted with the prospect
of once more entering upon an active course of life, which, by
constant employment, would afford the means of withdrawing his
thoughts from all the painful subjects on which they now rested.
Eagerly and rapidly he drew up a letter to Gourville, bidding him
confide entirely in me; and, having given it to me, he made me remark
that he had written on the back. "By the hands of Monsieur de
Juvigny."
"You must, on no account," he added, "appear as a foreigner, which, in
Paris, would instantly call upon you a degree of attention that is to
be avoided by all means. You have now no longer the slightest accent,
except, indeed, it be a touch of the _patois_ of Bretagne; which,
however, will the more confirm the Parisians in the belief that you
are a Frenchman, and you may boldly pass yourself as a Breton even
upon Gourville himself. I must furnish you, however, with plenty of
that golden oil which makes all doors turn easily upon their hinges;
and, remember, spare no expense to reach Paris soon, and to return
quickly; for every hour spent upon the road is lost to better
purposes. Not so, however, with your inquiries: let them be diligent
and minute; do not come away without knowing everything that can be
known; and remember, that should fortune, which has been favourable to
you in many instances, put it in your power to aid or serve the Prince
de Condé, you have my strongest injunction to do so."
Whether he suspected that such would, indeed, prove the case, I do not
know; but he three times spoke of the chance of my serving the Prince
as not impossible, and reiterated his charge to take advantage of it,
if it did occur. He then added a great many cautions and explanations
for the direction of my conduct, and gave me a larger sum of money
than ever I had possessed before. To all this he joined a number of
billets of introduction to different persons of his acquaintance in
Paris, conceived in the following terms:--
"_To Monsieur de_----
"Know and put full confidence in my young friend, Monsieur de Juvigny.
(Signed) "De Villardin."
I found that this sort of _letter of credit_ had been common in the
times of the former war; and as it committed no party to anything,
even if seized, was of course very convenient. Everything else
apparently being arranged, I was taking my leave, intending to set out
instantly, and alone, when Monsieur de Villardin, to my surprise, bade
me take two of the servants, whom he named, to give me assistance in
case of need.
"No, no, my lord," I said, "for heaven's sake do not inflict such
shackles upon me; I shall be much better by myself; and as to
assistance, I shall want none, depend upon it. I have always been able
to make my own eyes find my own way, and my own hand keep my own head
since I was eight years old, and with your permission I will go alone.
Besides, if I took any of the servants from this place, I should have
my English birth and education known to every one they came near in
five minutes--especially if we bade them keep it secret."
"Well, well, do as you please," replied the Duke; "but if you go
alone, you had a great deal better ride post; for, as I know you are
an indefatigable horseman, you will by that means be able to double
the distance in the same space of time."
To this I willingly agreed, and it having been arranged that I was at
least to take a servant with me as far as the next relay, in order to
bring back my own horse, I left Monsieur de Villardin, and proceeded
to make my preparations, which, I need not say, were brief enough.
CHAPTER XXI.
I could not but feel melancholy as I rode away from the château, and
passed by many of the spots which were engraven upon the tablet of my
memory by acts and feelings that could never suffer them to be
effaced. It was not, indeed, that I entertained any sad or gloomy
anticipation in regard to the future; for, through life, the noblest
blessing of all the many with which Heaven has heaped up my lot, has
been that indestructible hopefulness of disposition, which always
presents a bright prospect in the coming years: but it was, that
memory, as if stimulated by the act of leaving the place, called up
again, and passed in long review before my eyes, all those dark hours
and terrible deeds which had filled up my residence in Brittany. It
was against my will that these recollections swarmed upon me: but
there are moments when we have no power to bid memory cease her
recapitulations--when the heart, often from some mere trifling
accident, is cast prostrate before the past, and cannot struggle up
against the torrent of remembrances that pour over it; and such was
then the case with myself.
If I had given a world, I could not have banished from my thoughts
the violent death, the dying countenance, the bloody grave of the
Count de Mesnil, the gentle looks, the melancholy fate of Madame de
Villardin--the gloomy swimming down that fatal stream in the endeavour
to find her, the long torch-light search for her body, and the
terrible nights of watching I had spent by the bedside of her
delirious and culpable husband.
As memory would have way, I strove to turn it into some gentler
course, and tried to fix it upon something sweeter in the past. There
were only two or three acts, however, which I could recal, that
afforded a pleasant resting-place for thought in all that had occurred
to me since I first entered the house of Monsieur de Villardin. The
efforts I had made to remove from the mind of the Duke the wild
suspicions that he had then entertained of his wife, were now, of
course, most grateful in remembrance. Nor, indeed, do I recollect,
amongst all that I ever did in my life, anything which gave me greater
pleasure than I experienced at that moment, in calling to mind the
rescue of sweet little Laura de Villardin from the same stream that
had afterwards proved fatal to her mother, though, after all, it was
but the service of a water-dog. Neither, indeed, did the memory of all
the little kindnesses I had shown to Jacques Marlot prove at all
ungrateful to me, though, I confess, they had been done more in a
spirit of merriment, perhaps, than benevolence. One is almost always
beneficent when one laughs, with the exception, perhaps, of a few
human hyenas, who scarcely deserve the name of men; and,
notwithstanding all his misfortunes and distresses, the worthy printer
was always connected in my mind with associations of a gay and jocose
character.
It was upon him, then, by this train of associations, that my thoughts
last rested as I rode away from the château of Dumont; and as my
constant attendance upon Monsieur de Villardin had prevented my seeing
Maître Jacques for nearly six weeks, I was suddenly seized with a
great desire to take leave of him ere I went to Paris. The road by his
house was as near, though somewhat rougher, and I turned my bridle
thitherward almost as soon as his image rose up before my mind. At his
door I met with Father Ferdinand, whom I had left a couple of hours
before in the park; and, after explaining to the good Priest that I
was bound to Paris, on the business of Monsieur de Villardin, I
received his benediction and one or two injunctions in regard to my
conduct; and, while he pursued his way back to the château, I knocked
loudly with the butt of my whip at the door of the ci-devant printer.
He came out immediately, and but few words passed between us, as I had
not time to dismount. Nor, indeed, did he ask me to come in when he
found that I was bound upon an errand of importance, but, wishing me
all prosperity, and that I might live long enough to save a great
number of honest men from the gallows, he bade me adieu, and suffered
me to depart.
I have marked this visit, for, strange enough to say, it was the last
time that I saw the good printer for nearly six years; and, by the end
of that period, I need hardly say that we had both undergone many
changes, at least in personal appearance.
From Juvigny I rode on as fast as possible to the next post relay, and
there leaving my horse with the servant who had accompanied me, I set
out with my postillion for Paris as fast as I could go. Remembering
the directions which I had received, I certainly did not fail to make
all speed; and I found it no difficult thing to induce the post-boys
to put much more celerity into their beasts than the law required, or,
indeed, allowed. By this means, and by utter forgetfulness of all
personal fatigue, I reached Paris full two days sooner than I should
otherwise have done, and much earlier, I am convinced, than Monsieur
de Villardin himself anticipated.
The moment I arrived, I found out the residence of Gourville, who was
then lodging at a small house in the Rue St. Thomas; and, after some
difficulty, which showed me that he was not very much at his ease in
regard to his own situation, I was admitted to his apartments, and
found a young man of a shrewd, intelligent countenance, and simple but
not vulgar manners. Following a habit I had acquired of examining
every new face closely ere I said a word myself, I paused a moment or
two before I delivered the letter with which I was charged from
Monsieur de Villardin, and I could easily see that Gourville was
annoyed and alarmed by the visit of a person so completely a stranger
to him, and whose manners, I believe, appeared somewhat extraordinary.
The moment, however, that I had explained to him the object of my
coming, his countenance cleared, but still he said not one word which
could have committed himself in any way, till he had first read
Monsieur de Villardin's letter. Nor was he even satisfied with that,
without first speaking to me himself upon various matters which I very
well understood were more designed to draw out my character, and
ascertain whether I were really trustworthy, than to gain any
information of another kind. As it was not at all unlike the conduct
which I should have pursued myself under similar circumstances, I did
not certainly feel in the least offended; and, after about half an
hour spent in this sort of spider-like investigation, which did not
take place less upon my side than upon his, we began more clearly to
understand each other, and the conversation turned to the objects
which brought me thither.
"Well, Monsieur de Juvigny," said Gourville, at length, "plainly and
straightforwardly, what is it that you want to know?"
"Plainly and straightforwardly, then," I replied, "what I want to know
is, whether there is any chance of the liberation of the Princes, and
whether that chance is immediate or remote."
Gourville smiled, and paused for a moment or two, and then, assuming
an air of frankness, which I never saw put on suddenly but when it was
intended to deceive, he replied, "Oh! indubitably; there is every
chance of their liberation. The Princess Dowager, as you well know, is
every day presenting some new petition either to the Court or to the
Parliament, and undoubtedly her just complaints will be in the end
attended to: and the Princes will be restored to that liberty of which
they have been most unjustifiably deprived."
As I have said before, from the very air of candour with which he
began to speak, I had perceived that Gourville intended to deceive me;
and, therefore, I only smiled incredulously as a reply. "It is very
true, I can assure you," he added; and I saw that, either from
doubting my judgment, on account of my youth, or from some suspicion
of my character, he was so far determined to give me no real
information, that I must employ other means to extort it from him than
any I had hitherto used. As I knew, however, that he could be depended
upon for secrecy at least, I affected, at length, to receive what he
said as truth; and replied, "Well, well, since such is the case--and
of course I cannot doubt your word--I will immediately write to
Monsieur de Villardin, informing him that there is no necessity
whatever for his committing himself by joining the Princess and
Monsieur de Bouillon at Bordeaux, as the Princes are certain of
obtaining their liberation, without his taking a step which might
embroil him with many of his best friends, as well as with the Court."
This, of course, did not suit Gourville's plans at all, and, as I had
foreseen, it forced him into an explanation.
"No, no, sir! no, no!" he replied. "Do not do that too hastily. Wait
at least a day or two, that we may see the effect of the means we are
using at present."
"That, I am sorry to say," replied I, "is quite out of the question. I
came here, as you well know, to investigate for Monsieur de Villardin
what were the chances in favour of the immediate liberation of the
Princes; and I promised him to write immediately after I had seen you,
to give him such information as would determine the part that he was
to take. Come, come, Monsieur Gourville, you are not acting candidly
with me. If you speak frankly, you have nothing to fear. If you do not
speak frankly, you may prevent Monsieur de Villardin from throwing his
whole weight into the scale of the Princes. You may speak freely to
me, I assure you. I am not so much of a boy as I may seem."
"It appears not, indeed," replied my companion; "and, therefore, I
suppose I must speak frankly with you: but there is one thing, young
gentleman, I would have you remark, which is, that if I do admit you
to my confidence, you must take your part also in the schemes which I
am pursuing; and as I tell you that they are just as likely to conduct
every one concerned in them to the gallows, as to produce any other
result, you may judge whether this is the sort of confidence that you
would like."
I smiled at his reply; and said, that I was too much accustomed to
danger of all kinds to fear the gallows more than any other sort of
death.
"Well, well, if that be the case," he replied, "the matter will soon
be settled. Monsieur de Villardin here tells me to trust you entirely,
and Monsieur de Rochefoucault enjoins me to trust in him in the same
manner. So that, of course, I must obey, whatever be the consequences;
though I do not, I confess, like to confide secrets of such vital
importance to more people than necessary."
He then proceeded to inform me,--though with a great deal of
difficulty and hesitation, even after having made up his mind to do
so,--that a plan was, at that moment, in progress, for the liberation
of the Prince de Condé, by means of the soldiers of the guard in
garrison at Vincennes, where the Prince was at that time confined.
These men, many of whom had served under Condé, and all of whom
admired and loved him, Gourville represented as uniformly favourable
to the scheme; and I learned, that the execution of the whole was
merely put off till the Sunday following, in order that the attempt
might be made while the governor and officers were at vespers in the
chapel.
"The only difficulty," he continued, "which presents itself in the
course of the whole undertaking, is to prepare the Princes themselves
for the effort that is to be made in their favour. No one is allowed
to see them except Pallu, the surgeon of the Prince de Condé, who
visits him three times a week, in order to dress the wound in his arm.
Now Pallu is himself as much attached to the Prince as any man can be,
but he is as timid as a child; and, notwithstanding all my
persuasions, will not be the bearer of a message to his Highness."
"But cannot you contrive to introduce some one else?" I demanded. "I
should think that might be easily done."
"Indeed!" said Gourville, with a smile. "I have turned it in my head
in every way I can think of; and yet I not only do not see any easy
method, but I confess that I perceive no possible means of conveying
the information to Monsieur le Prince. We are, therefore, preparing to
execute our scheme as well as we can without."
I mused a moment ere I answered, and then merely asked what was the
post which Gourville intended to assign me in the matter, and which he
had declared was dangerous.
"Simply this," he replied; "and you will see at once, that it is not
more perilous than that of any other person concerned. We are about to
station twenty or thirty cavaliers in the different villages round
Vincennes, divided into parties of three or four, and each provided
with led horses, to afford the Princes the means of escape, whatever
direction they may judge fit to take. If any of the parties are
caught, they will be hanged, to a certainty, but each man must of
course make his mind up to his risk; and what I proposed was, that you
should be joined to one of these bodies, and act as guide to the
Princes into Brittany, in case that they should determine upon
pursuing that road; for I judge, by your tongue, that you are a
Breton, and doubt not that you know the country well."
"That I do, most assuredly," replied I; "but nevertheless I think I
can serve you better in another way--and not without exposing myself,"
I added, seeing a slight smile curl my companion's lip; "fully as
much, if not more, than any of you."
"And pray what do you propose?" he said.
"Simply," I answered, "to convey the tidings of our design to the
Princes themselves."
"Impossible," he replied; "depend upon it, that is quite impossible."
"Not near so much so, rest assured, as you imagine," I answered. "The
fact is, I know Monsieur de Pallu well, for he attended long upon a
gentleman to whom I was much attached, and I saw him regularly every
day. Now I know all his manners and his habits so well, that I could
fearlessly take upon myself to feign myself one of his assistants, and
to give such an account of himself and his person, if by any chance I
should be questioned, that I am certain I should escape detection. I
doubt not in the least," I added, seeing Gourville's countenance begin
to brighten as my plan developed itself, "I doubt not in the least
that, although he cannot be prevailed upon to deliver the message to
the Princes himself, he may easily be induced to neglect his visit to
Vincennes for one single day. As soon as that is determined, I will
take advantage of the fact, and dressing myself as a garçon
apothicaire, I will present myself at Vincennes, with dressings and
plasters, and, declaring that Monsieur de Pallu is ill, or called by
some urgent case elsewhere, will demand to see the Prince and dress
his arm."
"Bravo! mon cher Breton!" cried Gourville, catching me in his arms and
actually embracing me; "bravo! bravo! Pallu will consent, of course;
and if he do not, a little gentle force, or some good-natured _ruse_,
will easily bring the matter to bear, as far at least as he is
concerned. Diable! I would keep him in his house with a pistol at his
throat sooner than such a hopeful enterprise should fail.--But are you
sure, my good young friend, that your courage will hold out?" he
added, as he began to reflect; the very delight he felt at my proposal
making him apprehensive lest it should fail. "Remember, for Heaven's
sake, that Vincennes is a terrible looking place; and what with its
drawbridges, its guards, and its chains, its gloomy passages and
frowning stone walls, you may lose your presence of mind at the very
moment when it is most necessary; and not only forfeit your own life,
but overthrow our whole scheme."
"No fear! no fear!" I answered, smiling; "I am more accustomed to such
work than you know of, and have no apprehensions."
"Well, well," answered Gourville, "have your will then; though I must
say you look to me very young to have much acquaintance with
proceedings dangerous in themselves, and ten thousand times more
dangerous in their consequences. You cannot be above sixteen?"
"Not so much," I replied; "and yet for many a year I have lived
amongst scenes to which all that is passing in these foolish wars is
but child's play. But now let us concert our plans, that nothing may
go wrong."
After some more conversation on the subject, Gourville proceeded to
the house of Pallu, and finding him at home, went in, while I remained
in the street. On his return he informed me that all was arranged with
the worthy surgeon, who consented to show an apparent neglect to the
Prince de Condé; but required that, in order to screen himself
completely from the ire of the Court, in case of our detection, a
fictitious letter, demanding his immediate presence at St. Germain,
should be sent to him at the very hour in the evening that he usually
visited his patient in Vincennes.
All this was settled with the surgeon, and nothing remained but for me
to play my part. The time for executing my design was, of necessity,
three o'clock on the following day, as that was the usual period of
Pallu's visit; and having proceeded to the house of the well-known
fripier Martin, where every sort of dress under the sun was to be
procured for a little more than its real value, I furnished myself
with the complete equipment of a surgeon's élève. I spent the rest of
that evening in concluding my arrangements with Gourville, who gave me
all that minute information which was necessary to the accomplishment
of what I had undertaken.
On the following morning early, I rode out to St. Maur to see Lord
Masterton, but found that both Lord Langleigh and himself were absent
in Normandy. I saw the Lady Emily, however, and could not but feel
what a contrast her bright and smiling looks afforded to those which
had latterly appeared upon the countenance of poor Madame de
Villardin, once as gay and happy as her own.
On my return to Paris, it was nearly time to set out for Vincennes;
and, mounted on a little sturdy horse, which seemed made on purpose
for a surgeon's pony, furnished with ointments and plasters in
boundless profusion, and habited as a garçon chirurgien, I rode off
upon my expedition, and soon approached the prison of the Princes. The
castle had nothing very formidable in its aspect to my eyes; but,
nevertheless, in gazing up at the donjon, and remembering the purpose
of my visit, I felt more as I used to do in days of old than I had
done for some time. I was little "Ball o' Fire" all over; and I could
almost have fancied myself upon some of my expeditions during the
civil wars of England. This feeling tended to put me much more at my
ease than I might otherwise have been; and as there is nothing so
serviceable as effrontery under such circumstances, it proved of real
use to me.
On entering the gate, the first question asked me was by a
grim-looking guardsman, who came up as the sentry stopped me, and
demanded what I wanted there?
I answered, with all the naïveté in the world, that I wanted to see
the Prince de Condé.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the guard, not a little astonished at my coolness.
"And, pray, what may be your name, my good youth?"
"I am called Jerome," I replied; "and I am assistant to Monsieur de
Pallu, the surgeon, who sent me here, because he was obliged----"
"Oh, if that be the case," cried the soldier, interrupting me, "you
must come to Monsieur de Bar. We cannot let you in without his
authority, for we must not even speak to the Prince ourselves."
From the man's tone, I doubted not that this was one of the serjeants
of the guard, whom Gourville had spoken of as in the interest of the
Princes; but of course I had nothing to do but to go through with my
part as garçon apothicaire; and, therefore, assuming as stupid an air
as possible, I suffered myself to be led to the presence of Monsieur
de Bar, the governor. I never saw a less prepossessing fellow, or one
better framed by the hand of nature for a gaoler. As soon as I had
informed him that Monsieur de Pallu, having been sent for to St.
Germain on a case of life and death, had despatched me to dress the
Prince's arm, which he thought could not remain till the following
day, the governor knit his brows, and stared me all over with a heavy
frown, as if I had committed some offence. But, without taking any
notice, or showing the slightest agitation, I stood upon one leg, like
an awkward boy, and looked round the room with an air of stolid
curiosity, which completely deceived him.
"Monsieur de Pallu should not have gone away on any pretext," said the
governor, abruptly, when he had satisfied himself with his examination
of my person. "It is disgraceful of him to send a stupid boy like you
to dress the Prince's wound. I have a great mind to send you back."
I gazed at him for a moment with open mouth and eyes; and then
assuring him that I could dress the wound as well as Monsieur de Pallu
himself, I proceeded to detail exactly that surgeon's method of
proceeding, which I had watched attentively during his attendance on
Lord Masterton. The governor cut me short, with an oath, however; and
telling me that he did not want to learn surgery, rose, and took the
key of the apartments in which the Princes were confined.
Throwing open the door, he pushed me in by the shoulders, bidding me
to knock loudly at that same door when I had done, and not to stop
longer than necessary. I now found myself alone, in a little
ante-chamber; and as it had but one other door, of course I advanced
towards it, and entered the next room without ceremony. Here, seated
at a table, which was covered with pots of beautiful carnations, sat a
young man of about five or six and twenty, busily tending and
arranging his flowers. He was alone--though I heard voices in a
chamber beyond; and from the whole appearance of the apartment, the
neglect and poverty of the furniture, and the simplicity of the
young man's own attire, I might have imagined that he was some
valet-de-chambre, admitted to the prison in order to attend upon the
Princes, had he not looked up: as he did so, however, the eagle-eye
could not be mistaken, and I felt that I must be in the presence of
the great Condé.
"Who are you, my boy?" he asked, as soon as he saw me. "Good faith,
this is a pleasing novelty: I have not seen a new face these two
months; let me look at you;" and rising from his seat, he approached
the window near which I passed as I entered from the ante-room. He was
neither very tall nor very strongly made, but there was the promise of
extraordinary activity in every limb. His features were slightly
aquiline, and in general good, without being very striking. But his
eye was, indeed, remarkable. It was deep set, it is true, and not
particularly large; but there was a light, and a keenness, and an
intensity in its slightest glance, that are quite indescribable. It
was quick, too, as the lightning; and I observed, that at almost every
other word the corner of the eyebrow next the nose was drawn forward,
and rounded, as it were, so as to shade the eye in a degree, and to
cut off every ray of light but those which fell upon the object at
which he was looking.
"Who are you, my boy? Who are you--who are you?" he repeated, quickly.
"Has Monsieur de Bar forgotten himself, and learned to believe that
gentlemanly conduct is consistent with the office of a gaoler?"
For a moment I was in doubt how to answer; but as I still heard voices
in the other room, I thought it best to be cautious, and being obliged
to speak loud, on account of my distance from the Prince at the
moment, I told him the same story that I had passed upon the governor.
"Ha!" he said, "Pallu should have come to me first. He forgets that he
is my oracle as well as surgeon, and the only human thing that I see
from week's end to week's end, except the grim visages of my gaolers,
or the gloomy ones of my fellow-prisoners. However, if there was life
or death in the case, as you say, of course he could not come."
While he was speaking I advanced quietly to the table, and putting
down the packet of salves and dressings upon it, I approached closer
to the Prince without saying a word. He looked at me sharply as I did
so, seeming to comprehend at once that there was something
extraordinary in this man[oe]uvre; and when I was within about a yard
of him, he put out his hand to stop my further advance, saying, "Stay,
stay; no nearer, if you please, till I hear more of your business."
I bowed low, and replied, in a tone that could only be heard by
himself, "If your Highness will sit down and permit me to dress your
arm, or, at least, to seem to do so, I may prove more oracular than
Monsieur de Pallu. I come from your Highness's faithful friend and
servant, Monsieur de Villardin, and from your no less faithful
servant, Gourville."
"Hush!" he replied, "hush!" And advancing to the door which led into
the other room, he said, speaking to the Prince de Conti and the Duke
de Longueville, who were within, "Messieurs, I am going to have my
wound dressed; and therefore, unless you wish to learn surgery, you
may stay where you are for half an hour." He then closed the door, and
returning to his seat near the table, stripped off his coat, and
drawing back his sleeve, presented his arm to me, saying at the same
time, "Now!"
I, on my part, busied myself with the dressings, and while I did so,
proceeded to explain to him, in a low tone, but as distinctly as
possible, the measures that had been taken for setting him at liberty
on the Sunday following. I told him that the guards, who had entered
into our plan, were already provided with the means of fastening the
officers into the chapel during the vesper service, that horses would
be ready at each of the villages within four miles of Vincennes, that
the whole garrison was in his favour, and that nothing was wanting but
preparation on his part to take advantage of the opportunity when it
occurred.
"Fear not," he replied, in the same tone; "fear not that I will be
found unprepared. No, no; as soon as that door is open, I will be
quite ready to walk out of it. But tell me," he added, "who are you
that have been trusted with such an important communication, and have
had courage and address sufficient to execute it?"
"I am one, your Highness," replied I, "for whom you were kind enough
some time ago, at the intercession of Monsieur de Villardin, to obtain
some favours at the hands of the Court."
"What! the young Englishman," he cried, "who saved his daughter's
life!--Is it so?"
I replied in the affirmative; and he added, "Well, then, they were the
last favours that I obtained for any one, for not three days after my
arrest took place."
"Most grateful I am to your Highness," I replied; "and I thank Heaven
that the commission with which Monsieur de Villardin has intrusted me
enables me to be of some slight service to your cause."
"Of inestimable service, young gentleman," he replied; "for, in truth,
I know none, except yourself, and perhaps Gourville, who would have
undertaken the dangerous task which you have accomplished. Should you
be successful,--which I will not doubt, since the scheme is so well
devised and so well conducted--I shall not be found wanting in
gratitude to any who have served me, especially to one who has served
me so well as you have: and now, as it is clear enough that you know
nothing of dressing wounds, get you gone as speedily as possible, lest
Pallu himself should come, and worse should befal you."
"There is no fear, my lord," I replied; "we have taken good means to
keep Monsieur de Pallu away."
"Indeed!" he answered; "then it would seem you have forgot nothing;
but, nevertheless, I am anxious for your safety. Tell Gourville and
the rest that I shall be ready to a moment at the hour of vespers;
and, once beyond these prison-walls, the Court and Mazarin shall have
something to remember which they may find it not easy to forget. Fare
you well, young man; and be sure, that whether we succeed or not,
Condé will not be found ungrateful."
My errand was done, and of course I did not feel inclined to linger in
such dangerous circumstances.
Gathering up all the trumpery which I had brought with me on the
pretence of dressing his wound, I took my leave, and, retiring into
the ante-chamber, I knocked hard, as I had been told to do, in order
to call some one to the door. During nearly ten minutes, however, I
knocked in vain, and, of course, gradually increased the vehemence of
my application, till the whole passages rang again with the sound. At
length the governor appeared, and showered upon my head no mitigated
abuse for the noise which I had made. As it was necessary, however, to
proceed with the same caution in effecting my exit as I had employed
in procuring admittance to the prison, I resumed my air of stupidity,
and, muttering something about having knocked for ten minutes, I
glided past him as he locked the door, and walked on towards the
stairs. With a few more abusive epithets he suffered me to depart,
and, passing down into the court, the wicket gate was thrown open for
me to go out into the park.
As the soldier at the gate maliciously refused to open it any farther,
I was obliged to lead my pony through the wicket; and as the aperture
seemed much less than the animal conceived its own dignity and
magnitude required, it cost me nearly a quarter of an hour to force it
through. When this was at length effected, amidst the merriment of the
soldiery, I mounted, and proceeded on my way; nor did anything occur
in the course of my ride towards Paris which was worthy of remark,
except the fact of my meeting, at about twenty yards from the gate of
the château, one of the serjeants of the guard, who, with downcast
looks, and a rapid but unsteady pace, was returning towards the castle
which I had just left.
CHAPTER XXII.
It was late in the day when I returned to Gourville's lodging, and I
thought he would have gone mad with joy when I told him the success of
my attempt. He frankly avowed to me also, that, though well accustomed
to dangerous enterprises, he had listened during my absence for every
sound, expecting each minute to find that I had been arrested, and
that a lettre de cachet had been sent for his own apprehension.
"And did you really think, Monsieur Gourville," I demanded, "that,
even had I been stopped myself, I would have implicated you?"
"There is no knowing, Monsieur,--there is no knowing," replied he:
"the question is not a pleasant thing, and I have never been able to
tell how I should myself behave under its infliction. I acknowledge
that it is just as likely that I should yield all sorts of secrets to
its potent influence, as that I should conceal them."
"Of course, then, I can neither be surprised nor offended," I replied,
"at your attributing to me the same feelings. But to speak of other
matters: to-morrow early I shall go out to St. Maur, to see if a
friend, whom I expect there, has returned; but I shall be back in the
evening, and you will find me at my auberge by five o'clock." Thus
ended our conversation, and we parted.
It is wonderful what changes a few hours produce in this life. On
leaving Gourville that night, we were both as fully persuaded as
mortal men could be, that our scheme was going on better and better
each hour. Nor did we entertain a doubt that we should be able to
carry it forward successfully to the close. Ere I had risen from my
bed, however, the next morning, I was surprised by some one knocking
sharply at my chamber door; and on opening it, the first thing I saw
was the face of Gourville, apparently many shades paler than it had
been when I left him the night before. "We are lost!" he said; "some
unfortunate accident has discovered our whole design."
"Unfortunate, indeed," I answered; "but let me hear, my good friend,
what is it that has filled you with such sad tidings this morning,
when I left you last night borne up upon the very pinions of hope?"
"I have just discovered," he replied, "that after a long consultation
before day-light this morning between the Duke de Beaufort, the
Archbishop coadjutor, the Cardinal, and the Duke of Orleans, Monsieur
de Beaufort himself, with three troops of cavalry, set out for
Vincennes a little before the dawn; and, after searching every village
in the neighbourhood, proceeded to the château, and there remains."
This information was certainly alarming enough; but still it seemed to
me necessary to obtain some more correct intelligence in regard to the
causes of these movements on the part of the Court than Gourville had
yet obtained, ere we decided upon abandoning an attempt, which, as far
as it had proceeded, had been conducted with great success. Gourville
coincided with me in opinion; but the difficulty was, where and how to
obtain the information that we required.
"At all events," he said, "it is my duty to communicate immediately
what has occurred to the poor fellow, Franc-c[oe]ur, through whom I
have carried on my correspondence with the soldiers at Vincennes. He
belongs to another company of the guards, who are now in Paris; and as
the matter may touch his life, should we be actually betrayed, I must
give him instant notice, that he may betake himself to a place of
security. As I go, I will endeavour to obtain all the information I
can, and will return in less than an hour, and let you know my
discoveries."
He was as good as his word, and returning even paler than before,
seemed somewhat surprised to find me quietly eating my breakfast, as
if nothing had occurred to derange my ordinary habits, or affect my
appetite. He now told me that he had found the serjeant not only
informed of all the particulars with which he himself was acquainted,
but also possessed of a knowledge of their cause. This he had
communicated to Gourville, who now related it to me, and it appeared
that one of the soldiers, who had been trusted with the scheme for
delivering the Princes, had taken fright the day before, and,
pretending to confess himself at the church of Nôtre Dame, had given
the penitentiary a billet, informing him that, on the following
Sunday, at three o'clock, the Princes were to be set at liberty, by
means of an understanding between their friends and some persons
within the castle of Vincennes.
"Now," continued Gourville, "although Franc-c[oe]ur declares that,
notwithstanding this piece of treachery, he is sure his comrade will
not betray us any farther, yet, as it is clear that our scheme is now
hopeless, and as I never put great faith in any man's resolution under
the influence of the question, I think it will be a great deal better
both for you and me to leave Paris as fast as possible."
"Certainly, as the scheme is hopeless," I replied, "I see nothing that
should detain us; and therefore I shall return with all speed to
Brittany; where, perhaps, it may be advisable," I added, with a laugh,
"to tell Monsieur de Villardin by no means to put any trust in all
those fine petitions and remonstrances of the Princess Dowager, of
which you boasted so much when first I saw you."
"No, no," replied Gourville, smiling in turn; "let him not rely upon
them for the liberation of his princely friend. Tell him rather, for
me, that I now look upon it as absolutely impossible to obtain the
freedom of the Princes by any means but the sword. The Parliament and
the Queen are alike resolved not to give them their liberty; and it is
to the efforts of their friends alone that we must look for their
deliverance."
After a few more words to the same effect, we parted; and mounting the
sturdy little horse which I had bought to carry me to Vincennes, I
rode away as hard as I could, on the side of Brittany. When I had
completely tired out my beast I again took the post, and pursued my
way towards Dumont, with very little rest or cessation. It is true,
when I arrived I was desperately fatigued, for nine days had taken me
to Paris and back, a distance of more than seven hundred miles; and
during the period of my absence, I had spent two whole days and part
of another in the capital. Nor had I any very consolatory remembrances
to make me bear up with spirit under my corporeal weariness, having
been foiled in my endeavours to serve the Prince, at the moment that
success seemed within my grasp; but, at all events, I felt that I had
some reason to be satisfied with my journey, inasmuch as I had
obtained every information that Monsieur de Villardin could require,
and had found an opportunity of personally seeing and attempting to
aid his friend, though our scheme had ultimately proved ineffectual.
The chief mortification, indeed, which I experienced, arose from a
fear that the Prince de Condé--who would, of course, remain ignorant
of the events which had taken place without the walls of his
prison--might imagine that I had deceived him; and I could only
console myself by remembering that one day he must learn the truth.
On arriving at Dumont, everything I saw announced that Monsieur de
Villardin had not waited for the information which he had sent me to
seek, ere he formed his determination. The desire of a change of scene
and thought, and the wish to deliver his friend, had overcome every
other feeling, and he was, in fact, actually in arms when I arrived.
At first he would scarcely believe that I had performed the journey,
but when he learned all that I had done besides, he loaded me with
thanks and praises.
He then told me his own plans, and informed me that he could but allow
me one day for repose, as on the Thursday morning following he was
about to march, with all the forces he had been able to collect, for
Bordeaux.
"I sent off Gaspard de Belleville to Bordeaux," he added, "the morning
after your departure for Paris, charging him with a letter for the
Princess, and another for Monsieur de Bouillon. In each of these I
said, that unless the Princes were liberated within three weeks, their
friends might expect to see me in Guyenne. As Gaspard is now of age,
too," he added, in that sort of peculiar discursive tone which a man
assumes when he wishes to communicate a matter of particular interest,
as if it were one of no interest at all--"as Gaspard is now of age,
too, to enter the service, I have requested Monsieur de Bouillon to
give him a commission in one of the regiments at Bordeaux; but I have
not forgotten you, and as I wish you always to be near me, I propose
to give you a troop in the regiment of cavalry I am now raising.
Monsieur de Turenne had a company of infantry at your age, and I see
no reason why I should not do the same for you, especially as I have a
great lack of officers who have stood fire."
Although, to tell the truth, I would much rather have entered the
service on the part of the King and the Court, than on the part of
their adversaries, yet the idea of activity and enterprise seldom came
amiss; and I thanked Monsieur de Villardin sincerely for his kindness,
but added, that I trusted he would find the means of keeping me near
him.
"I will make you my aide-de-camp," he replied; "but we have a number
of other arrangements to attend to. Go, therefore, and lie down for
two or three hours, and then join me in the esplanade at the end of
the park."
I did as he bade me, as far as the lying down went; but, though tired
to death, I could not sleep. I was much refreshed, however, even by
the sort of repose I obtained, and as soon as I thought the time was
expired, I got up and walked out to the esplanade, where I found that
Monsieur de Villardin was occupied in reviewing, or rather drilling,
the regiment he had been employed in raising during my absence. Four
hundred men made the extent of his force, and amongst them only two,
who had served in the wars of Paris, could give any assistance in
matters of discipline, if we except half a dozen wild young nobles of
the neighbourhood, who had joined the corps of the Duke, but who were
not present on this occasion. I may say, then, that I was of no slight
assistance to Monsieur de Villardin on that and the following day; for
though he was undoubtedly an excellent officer, yet, of course, he
could not drill four hundred men without help from some one. The
cavaliers whom we had to deal with were in general tall, powerful men,
from the upper districts of Brittany; and though they looked stupid
enough at first, yet, when what they were to do was explained to them,
they proved neither dull of comprehension, nor slow in execution.
That which pleased me more than anything else in the whole scene was,
to observe that, while in actual exertion and activity, the deep heavy
gloom which had overshadowed the countenance of the Duke ever since
the death of his wife, passed away, and for the time he was himself
again. This change only lasted for the time, it is true, and the
moment he turned from the esplanade, the cloud was as dark and stern
as ever. Indeed, this observation may apply to the whole of the rest
of his life. In the field I have often seen him cheerful, and even
gay; but the moment that the temporary stimulus was withdrawn, he
would fall back into a deep and bitter melancholy, which I never saw
enlivened even by a smile. Generally after supper he retired to a
solitary chamber, and there remained alone for several hours. At
first, I fancied that he occupied himself in reading, for which he
always had a strong taste; but being obliged, on more than one
occasion, in the course of the civil strife that ensued, to break in
upon his retirement, I almost always found him immersed in deep
thought, with his cheek resting on his hand; and never saw a book near
him during those hours of the night that he thus passed alone.
On our return from the esplanade, which did not take place till a late
hour of the evening, we found Father Ferdinand walking in the
flower-garden with Mademoiselle de Villardin, and smiling upon all her
young and graceful sports with that bland expression of reflected
enjoyment which sits so well upon the lip of age. As soon as the
little Laura beheld me, she sprang up as usual to my neck, and, making
a sort of seat of my arm, scolded me with childish vehemence for my
long absence.
"He will be absent from you still longer, my sweet child," said
Monsieur de Villardin, kissing her cheek; "and therefore you must
remember to keep far from the water, as there will be no one there to
save you. Do you know, my good father," he added, turning to the
Priest, "that child would soon make me a very coward? The only thing I
fear, in going to do what I conceive my duty, is, that I may never see
her again."
He waited for no reply, but turned into the house, and we followed.
After supper, Father Ferdinand and myself were left alone, and I now
learned more of the arrangements which Monsieur de Villardin had found
it necessary to make, than he had himself communicated. As Brittany
was in general loyal, and the governor most decidedly attached to the
Court, against which the Duke was now in arms, he had determined upon
sending his whole household with Mademoiselle de Villardin, and
everything easily moveable, both from the Prés Vallée and from Dumont,
to the estates of his late wife at Virmont in the Orleanois, where his
daughter, being in the immediate neighbourhood of her grand-uncle,
Monsieur de Loris, would, he fancied, be much more safe than in
Brittany.
"They have already arrested the wife and sister of the Duke de
Bouillon," said the Confessor; "and Monsieur de Villardin thinks that
if they imprison women as a sort of surety for their relatives, they
may equally well imprison children. He has prevailed upon me," added
the good Priest, "to go to Virmont also, and to superintend the
education of his daughter, though God knows I have every inducement to
stay in this province, and no worldly motive has ever been able to
make me quit it hitherto. Here I was born," he continued, musing:
"here are all the associations of my infancy and of my age; nor did I
think to leave it, though the Duke has frequently asked me. But I have
now yielded to another voice more persuasive than his."
"Indeed!" I said, in some surprise; and he instantly added, more in
answer to my look than to the exclamation,--"The voice of my own
heart, my son."
The conversation then rambled on in a desultory manner; and the worthy
Father, ere we parted, gave me an infinity of good advice, which, of
course, I was the more willing to take, because he put it less in the
dogmatical form of directions in regard to my own conduct, than under
the semblance of the results of his own experience and general
observations upon man and the world. He exacted from me a promise,
also, that I would write to him continually, giving him not only an
account of the general events in which I was about to mingle, but also
detailing my own actions, thoughts, and feelings, as far as it was
wise and prudent to do so by the insecure conveyance of the post.
"In your letters to me, my son," he added, "you cannot be too minute;
for, believe me, everything that concerns you, your health, your
welfare, the progress of your mind, and the success of your fortunes,
are all a matter of interest to me in no slight degree."
He has acknowledged to me since, that his chief motive, in exacting
from me this promise, was not so much the desire of watching over my
conduct himself, as the wish to add a sort of safeguard to all the
good principles he had endeavoured to instil into my mind; well
knowing that the sense of moral responsibility is seldom so vivid in
youth as greatly to affect our actions, unless some co-operating
restraint compels us continually to examine our own hearts minutely.
He did not choose to suffer his motive to appear at the moment,
however laudable he knew it to be, fully understanding that my
disposition was not one to submit to any checks but those I chose to
impose upon myself. I notice this fact, indeed, more as a slight trait
of that petty policy, which the good Father suffered to mingle with
his other more estimable qualities, than from any effect that was
produced upon myself; as my absence at Bordeaux was too short, and the
circumstances in which we were placed were too difficult, to admit of
any extended correspondence between us at that time.
On the Thursday morning we began our march, and advanced rapidly
towards Bordeaux, crossing an immense extent of country, which was at
that time in a state of disorganization and confusion, which nobody
who did not see it at that period can possibly conceive. Indeed, I
will not attempt to describe it: for no one living under an orderly
and well-conducted form of government would believe that such a
complete state of anarchy and misrule could be produced, throughout a
whole country, by the follies and dissensions of half a dozen unruly
and ambitious men. Although a single regiment would at any time have
stopped us on our march, it not only seemed that no regiment was to be
found in the whole tract which we traversed; but such was the state of
apathy and confusion that reigned in every part of the kingdom, that
no town or village through which we passed appeared to have had the
slightest intimation of our approach till we showed ourselves in its
streets. Monsieur de Villardin himself, quite accustomed to the sort
of warfare which we were pursuing, advanced direct upon Bordeaux with
very little caution, taking care, indeed, to avoid those towns which
he knew to be garrisoned for the Court; but heedless altogether,--at
least, so it seemed to me,--in regard to the movements of our enemies,
who were certainly marching in considerable force towards the same
point with ourselves. The whole business, indeed, was conducted in so
different a manner from that which I had seen in our civil wars in
England, that I could not but come to the conclusion that the French
were decidedly a better-tempered people than my own countrymen; and,
without being braver, that they bore every sort of misfortune,
fatigue, and danger, with a degree of light carelessness that no
Englishman could have affected, much less felt, under similar
circumstances.
How it happened that we did not encounter the army of Monsieur de
Meilleraie I cannot at all explain, as we certainly must have passed
within five miles of his camp. So, however, it did happen; and, after
a march of rather more than ten days, we entered the city of Bordeaux,
amidst the acclamations of the people, and the rejoicings of our
friends and partisans. We found the town, indeed, in a very
unpromising condition for undergoing a siege. Provisions and stores,
it is true, were most abundant, the people were zealous in the cause
of the Princes, a considerable force of veteran troops were within the
place, and the generals were experienced and determined; but the
fortifications of the city itself were, to all appearance, incompetent
to resist for a single day the attack of a regular army. The
inhabitants would not hear of the suburbs being destroyed, for the
defence of the rest of the city; and it became necessary to protect
them also against the enemy, who was now approaching rapidly.
Diligence and activity, however, remedied many defects. Several
redoubts were thrown up on the upper side of the Garonne; the old
castle of Blancfort, which had seen the days of the Black Prince, was
destined once more to receive a garrison; and numbers of the citizens
worked day and night at the wall and trenches, in order to put them in
a state for resistance before the approach of the royal army. By this
time the Duke of Epernon was within a few miles of the city, and the
first active operations were undertaken on the side of Blancfort, from
which place Monsieur de Chambon, our maréchal de camp, was forced to
make a precipitate retreat. An effort was made on the part of the
Bordelais to support him, in which our regiment took a share: but the
nature of the ground which the enemy now occupied, was so strong, that
all we could accomplish was to cover the retreat of the maréchal de
camp, which was now effected without difficulty and in good order. On
that side the Duke was held at bay; but the King and Court were by
this time at Libourne, while Monsieur de Meilleraie was advancing
towards the faubourg St. Surin, which seemed quite untenable; and it
was evident that he intended, if possible, to take advantage of its
total want of defences, in order to storm the city by the Porte
Digeaux.
It so happened, however, that in advance of the gate was a dunghill,
on which had been thrown a considerable quantity of rubbish, left by
some improvements which had been carried on about two years before in
that quarter of the town, the whole forming an elevation of a few
feet, at a short distance from the Porte Digeaux. On visiting the
spot, to see what might best be done for the defence of the gate, the
Dukes of Bouillon and Rochefoucault, together with Monsieur de
Villardin and several others, advanced to the top of this little
mound, in order to gain a better view of the surrounding objects, when
it suddenly struck some one, I do not know whom, that the very heap on
which they were standing might be converted into a half-moon, for the
defence of the gate. No sooner was this plan proposed than it was
executed. What little additions the time permitted were immediately
made; and, though it was utterly impossible either to erect a parapet
or to dig a fosse, a dunghill and a pile of rubbish thus became the
principal defence of the city of Bordeaux.
Scarcely were these preparations complete, when the attack upon the
faubourg commenced; and, while the Maréchal de Meilleraie himself
proceeded to force the barricades which had been erected in the
streets, and were defended vigorously by the Duke de Rochefoucault, a
detachment was sent round by the vineyards and corn-fields, in order
to turn the faubourg, and attack the half-moon from the west. This
part of the plan, however, had been foreseen by Monsieur de Bouillon
and Monsieur de Villardin; and although the maréchal succeeded in
forcing the barricades in the faubourg, the detachment which I have
mentioned got entangled amongst the hedges and walls of the vineyards,
which had been previously garnished with several corps of infantry,
and was glad to effect its retreat with the loss of nearly seven
hundred men.
The events of the day gave great encouragement to the people of
Bordeaux; and, though we found it very difficult to prevail upon the
men to defend the half-moon with any degree of regularity, yet,
whenever it was attacked by the enemy, a sudden sortie from the Porte
Digeaux and one of the neighbouring posterns succeeded, in all
instances, in repelling the assailants, and sweeping their trenches as
far as they had been conducted.
I do not propose to give any minute account of this well-known siege.
The part I took in it was little more than that of a common soldier,
though, by volunteering my services upon all occasions and in every
sort of occupation, I was continually in the midst of the fire. By a
species of stupidity, or perhaps, from early initiation into such
scenes of peril, I have never been able to remember, when actually
engaged in battle, that there was any sort of danger to be
apprehended; and though, when Monsieur de Villardin and the Duke de
Bouillon,--who about this time took a good deal of notice of
me--reprehended me for exposing myself madly, as they called it, I
used to make very strong and sincere resolutions of prudence and
circumspection; yet, whenever the next day came, and I found myself in
the sally, or on the half-moon, I quite forgot to look out for the
danger, and never remembered my resolutions till I was once more
within the walls.
Little occurred to me of a personal nature, during the whole of my
residence at Bordeaux, that is at all worth relating. In the defence I
endeavoured to do my duty; and under such circumstances it is very
difficult to do more. I was fortunate enough, however, to please those
who commanded, and received more praise for my conduct than I at all
deserved. As I was scarcely ever absent from the point of attack, my
more peaceful operations consisted principally in eating, drinking,
and sleeping; and, as I knew nobody in the whole town, besides the
personal attendants of Monsieur de Villardin,--with the exception of
Gaspard de Belleville, who had now obtained a commission in the
regiment of the Duke de Bouillon,--very little occurred to divert my
thoughts even for a moment from the operations of the siege. Gaspard I
saw but seldom; but when I did so, we met upon, perhaps, better terms
than we had done in the house of Monsieur de Villardin. He had
acquired a great deal of strut and swagger, it is true, upon the
strength of his new situation; but, by this time, he knew me too well
to provoke me deliberately, and, therefore, always maintained a degree
of civility with which I was quite satisfied. I fancied, indeed, now
he had left Monsieur de Villardin, and had embarked in an entirely new
course of life, that the jealousy with which he had regarded me, on
account of the Duke's preference for myself, had become extinct, and
that his hatred was consequently at an end; but in this I afterwards
found that I was mistaken. I had but little opportunity of observing
his general conduct, but, from that which I did see of it, I should
say, that, though not wanting in courage, he was at this time anything
but enterprising; and that the great favour which he obtained with his
commander was principally acquired by those somewhat servile and
insinuating manners, which he knew well how to put on towards his
superiors, though he was insufferably insolent and domineering to
every one below him.
One little adventure I certainly did meet with, which, though it
produced no results at the time, I could not help connecting in my own
mind with the presence of Gaspard de Belleville in Bordeaux. Having
returned to my own lodging, in the evening of the sixth day of the
siege, in order to get something to eat, as I had not tasted food
since the night before, I was suddenly disturbed at my supper, by a
cry of "Alerte! Alerte!--to the walls! to the walls!" and, hurrying
out as fast as possible, I was proceeding towards the Porte Digeaux,
when, at the corner of one of the narrow streets, I ran accidentally
against a lady handsomely dressed, and, nearly knocking her down,
struck out of her hand the black velvet mask, called a _loup_, which
was then very generally used by women in the higher classes, under the
pretext of defending their complexions from the sun or from the sharp
air. Stooping hurriedly down, I picked up the mask, and returned it to
the lady, raising my eyes to her face, for the first time, as I did
so. My surprise was not a little, I confess, to see in such gay
habiliments Madame Suzette, the suivante of the late unhappy Duchess
de Villardin. She had recognised me sooner, and was gazing on me with
an expression of countenance which I shall not easily forget,--such a
strange mixture of coquetry, and hatred, and self-satisfied vanity did
it display. Taking back her mask, she continued to gaze at me till she
saw me about to speak; and then applying it to her face, she turned
upon her heel with an air of insolent scorn, and, tripping down the
street, left me to pursue my way to the walls. Nor, during the rest of
the siege, did I see her again, although I think I should have
recognised her in despite of her _loup_.
For thirteen days the siege was continued with great activity; the
half-moon remained in the hands of the Bordelais, provisions were
plenty, and the determination of the populace was but little shaken.
However, the Maréchal de Meilleraie, finding his attack upon the Porte
Digeaux unavailing, entered upon a new plan of operations, and pushed
his trenches on the other side of the town, in the gardens between the
Archbishop's palace and the convent called the Chartron. Our proper
quarters in the town lay in that very neighbourhood; Monsieur de
Villardin having been assigned a house by the side of the cathedral of
St. Andrew, and his men being billeted in the streets round about him.
We could do nothing, however, to stay the progress of the besiegers;
the trenches were carried on rapidly, and, notwithstanding sallies
innumerable, a battery of six pieces of cannon opened upon the
curtain, and very soon effected a practicable breach.
Of course, all was now anxiety in the city; and, though the generals
did everything in their power to keep up the spirits of the Bordelais,
assuring them that the breach was not practicable, that internal works
should be thrown up during the night to remedy the evil, and that they
themselves, with their own followers, and the volunteers from the
town, would undertake to make good their defence against all the
troops which could be brought to act upon that point,--the people
evidently lost heart; tumultuous meetings were held in different parts
of the city; and I acknowledge that the only choice left for us
appeared to me, either to be given up by the inhabitants as a sort of
peace-offering to the Court, or, at least, to die in the breach,
defending a town that was no longer defensible.
Such, I believe, was the general opinion also of the principal
officers and gentlemen engaged in the cause of the Princes; and it
became a very difficult question how to act. Nor were the Bordelais
themselves more decided. A number of generous voices were raised
against the very idea of delivering up the noblemen, who had trusted
them, to their bitter enemies; but the great multitude, which never
knows any mean between rashness and timidity, called loudly upon their
rulers to make peace with the Court at every sacrifice.
From this unpleasant situation both parties were suddenly and
unexpectedly relieved. While the magistrates were in debate in one
place, and the generals were in debate in another, and while the
people, collected in every street and market-place, were murmuring at
their fate, and shouting against those who had brought it upon them,
the news suddenly reached us, that a deputation from the Parliament of
Paris had arrived at the gates, offering to negotiate a treaty between
the defenders of Bordeaux and the besieging force. Every one caught
gladly at the idea; a suspension of hostilities was immediately
granted, and deputies both from the city and the generals returned
with the Parisians to the town of Bourg, at which place the whole
Court was assembled. The Queen, timid and vacillating, did not
understand or believe how completely the city was in her power.
Mazarin, unwilling to bring upon himself the overwhelming odium of
destroying such a number of the noblest families in France as were
then cooped up in the city, did not press for any hard conditions; and
I rather suspect that the Maréchal de Meilleraie, having a great
number of friends amongst the besieged, rested satisfied with feeling
that he had the city in his power, if he were forced to proceed,
without making known the full advantage of his situation to those who
might have been inclined to use it ungenerously.
The result, however, was, that the truce was extended to six days, and
that during that time negotiations were carried on, which terminated
in a treaty of peace, infinitely more favourable than the defenders of
Bordeaux could have hoped or expected. It was agreed that full and
free pardon should be given to all the inhabitants of the town, into
which the Court should enter, unaccompanied by any other troops than
an ordinary guard; that the Princess de Condé and her son might retire
in safety to Montrond, and that a general pardon should be given to
all the other persons concerned directly or indirectly in the
resistance offered by the city to the royal forces, upon the sole
condition that the leaders should solemnly pledge themselves never to
bear arms against the King again.
CHAPTER XXIII.
As soon as the treaty had been duly signed, the Princess de Condé,
with four of her principal supporters, of whom Monsieur de Villardin
was one, set out for Bourg, where they were as kindly received and as
hospitably treated by the Court, as if they had never borne arms
against the throne. The whole party was splendidly entertained at the
lodging of the Cardinal prime minister; and on Monsieur de Villardin's
return to Bordeaux, I found that no slight impression had been made on
his mind by the gracious and unexpected reception he had met.
The young King himself, he informed me, had condescended to press him
to take an active part in his service: and I gathered that the Duke
had replied in such a manner, as to leave no doubt that, as soon as
the Princes were set at liberty, there would be none more zealous and
indefatigable in the royal cause than himself. Determined upon
conducting his troops back to Brittany in person, the Duke despatched
me with three or four servants across the country to Virmont, for the
purpose of giving notice to Father Ferdinand and Mademoiselle de
Villardin, that he was safe and well, and would speedily join us in
the Orleanois.
Very well comprehending how glad the Duke was to find a fair excuse
for taking up his residence in a part of the country which was less
painfully associated in his mind than that which he had lately
inhabited, I ventured to press him to be the bearer of his own good
news to Virmont, and to suffer me to conduct the regiment back to
Brittany, which I argued he might very well do, as almost all the
other commanders were at once dismissing their men, and suffering them
to find their way home as they best might. His ideas of duty, however,
were in this respect far more strict than those of the other generals;
and, adhering to his determination, he began his march on the
following day, while I set out for Virmont.
I had now to travel through a part of the country I had never seen:
and a rich and splendid land it was. No armies had passed for several
years along the exact track which I took; and as I compared the
smiling abundance of everything around me with the scenes of
devastation and ruin I had so often seen, new estimations of many
things on this earth began to present themselves to my mind, and I got
even as far as to admit that--whatever charms a military life might
have--it would be a sad and terrible act, to change such prospects of
beauty and happiness to scenes of ruin and desolation. The gradual
progress of all these slow alterations in my own mind and feelings,
working themselves out one after another through life, has been a
subject of curious investigation to myself; and as I write for my own
amusement, I shall still continue to put them down as they occur to my
remembrance.
The first feeling that in my bosom tended most certainly to soften all
the rest, was a growing taste for the beauties of nature, of every
kind and description; and as I approached Virmont, the warm and
luxuriant banks of the Loire struck me with the same pleasurable
sensations as I had experienced on seeing the deep shades and tranquil
stillness of the Prés Vallée. Crossing the Loire at Gien, I turned to
the right, and a little beyond Blénau was directed by the peasantry to
the château de Virmont, which was situated in a dry and sandy soil,
and surrounded by some rich but rather wild scenery. The house itself
was not a very large one, but it possessed various advantages which
were not to be found at either Dumont or the Prés Vallée, and,
especially in my eyes, was preferable to either of them, from being
totally unconnected with the dark and gloomy remembrances that hung
like a boding cloud over both the others.
Here I found Mademoiselle de Villardin with both Father Ferdinand and
her worthy relation the good old Count de Loris; and great was the joy
of all parties on hearing, not the successful issue of our
undertaking, but the safe and fortunate manner in which it had
terminated, after promising much less pleasant results. I think the
ten days that followed were amongst the happiest of my whole life. I
was in the society of three people, each of whom,--though very
different from each other--I loved; I was in a beautiful scene where
all was new; I was myself caressed and applauded by every one; there
was no violent passion, either good or evil, in my bosom; and there
was no restraint upon my actions. Even after we were joined by
Monsieur de Villardin, although the deep melancholy which had now
resumed its place in his demeanour, of course cast a degree of gloom
over the whole household; and though I especially felt grieved and
pained to witness the bitter sorrow that preyed upon the heart of a
man to whom I was sincerely attached, still the days passed pleasantly
enough; and, treated in every respect as if I had been the Duke's own
son, I had every reason to be content with my condition.
The passing of such days do not bear detail; but in the meantime
events were taking place in other parts of France that again called us
into active life. In Paris, the popular faction called the Fronde, at
the head of which, as I have before said, were the Archbishop
coadjutor de Retz and the Duke of Beaufort, had begun to take umbrage
at the kindness which Mazarin and the Court had shown to the defenders
of Bordeaux; and knowing very well that the minister had only employed
their party for the purpose of delivering himself from the Prince de
Condé and his friends, the popular leaders began to suspect that
Mazarin, as soon as it suited him, would make what conditions he
pleased with the imprisoned Princes, and set them at liberty without
the intervention of the Fronde. The success of the war in Guyenne had
raised the minister higher than they liked also; and the Cardinal,
foolishly believing himself quite secure, soon began to treat the
Frondeurs with very little ceremony.
The Viscount de Turenne, it is true, was still in arms in Champagne,
but the good fortune of Mazarin was again triumphant in this instance,
as if on purpose to make him think himself beyond the power of fate.
The Maréchal du Plessis Praslin, an experienced officer, but one
certainly inferior to Turenne in every respect, was sent against the
only formidable opponent of the Court that now remained, and, after
various man[oe]uvres on both parts, completely defeated Turenne, who
fled to Bar-le-Duc, accompanied only by five hundred horse. This
success increased the pride of Mazarin, and taught him vainly to
imagine that he could at length put down the faction which had so long
either ruled or disorganized the state; and although the parties of
the Court and the Fronde had, for a time, unnaturally united for the
ruin of Condé and his family, they now found that the moment was come
when the struggle between themselves was to be renewed. Each
determined upon the liberation of the Princes; but Mazarin sought to
obtain more from the prisoners than the Fronde were inclined to
demand; and he consequently temporised too long, while De Retz and
Beaufort stirred up the people and the Parliament; and the cry for the
liberation of Condé became as general amongst the Parisians as the
rejoicings for his imprisonment had been about a year before. The Duke
of Orleans, also, Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, always weak and
always false, abandoned once more the cause of the minister. The cry
for the liberation of the Princes was succeeded by a clamour for the
exile of Mazarin. After many ineffectual struggles, the Queen Regent
was obliged to yield her favourite to popular turbulence, and the
minister fled from the Court, happy to escape with life. The very next
morning, the Parliament of Paris, which not long before had condemned
a man to death for publishing a libel against the Cardinal, now found
reasons for declaring him a _disturber of the public peace_, and for
passing sentence of outlawry against him; and the people and the
Parliament prepared to liberate with joy the Princes who had so lately
been the objects of their execrations.
Mazarin, however, outstripped them in that very design; and wishing to
take the credit of the act to himself, no sooner had he quitted the
capital, than, proceeding to Havre, whither Condé and his companions
had been removed, he threw open their prison doors, and himself
announced their liberation. The Princes treated him with the contempt
he merited, and the disgraced minister, finding himself without
resource, fled from a country to which he was destined to return,
after a very short lapse of time, more powerful than ever.
One of the first acts of the Prince de Condé was to write a letter of
thanks to Monsieur de Villardin, for the part he had taken in the late
events; and he condescended especially to notice my somewhat dangerous
enterprise in finding my way into Vincennes, for the purpose of
communicating to him the plan framed by Gourville for his deliverance.
He added, that he might have supposed I had deceived him, as the
scheme was never put in execution, but that he had learned from other
sources the cause which prevented the attempt; and he concluded by
assuring Monsieur de Villardin that, if he could point out any object
which either he or I desired, the whole influence of the house of
Condé should be exerted to obtain it for us. This probably might have
led me into other scenes, and indeed might have changed the complexion
of my whole after-life, had not events arisen which soon placed the
Prince in a state of fiercer opposition to the Court than ever.
Anne of Austria resolved to recal her favourite Mazarin: Condé
himself, aspiring to govern the state, was determined that the
minister should remain in exile. Means were soon found to embroil him
with the party of the Fronde; and the Prince at length made up his
mind both to revenge himself upon those who had caused his
imprisonment, and to strike boldly for the supreme power by force of
arms. Having once taken his resolution, he pursued it with all that
fearless decision which rendered him a great general, but more than
once made him a bad subject. Retiring from Paris, he negotiated with
all his former friends and adherents; and, carrying his measures still
farther, treated with Spain itself, the open and declared enemy of his
native country. From that crown he received every assurance of
assistance that he could desire, which assurances were fulfilled to
the letter; but with his former partisans in France he was not by any
means so successful. His causes of complaint against the Court were
not at all such as to justify the violent and ruinous measures he was
pursuing. His own ambitious motives were apparent to every eye, and an
immense change of circumstances had been effected by the simple fact
of the young King having attained his majority. What people might
affect to consider a struggle amongst the different powers of the
state for the administration of the realm during the infancy of the
King, could now be looked upon in no other light than as actual
rebellion against the royal authority. The Duke of Bouillon,--tied by
the engagement made at Bourg, and seeing the present situation of the
Prince in a very different light from that in which his position while
under imprisonment had appeared to him--positively refused to take
part in his rebellion, though the regiment he had raised, officers and
soldiers, went over to the party of Condé. Turenne followed the
example of his brother the Duc de Bouillon, and declined to act with
the Prince against the Court. Monsieur de Villardin also, in reply to
a letter from Condé upon the subject, while he assured him of his
unabated personal regard, informed him plainly that he not only would
refuse all participation in new schemes against the Court, but would
consider himself bound to serve against any one found in rebellion to
the royal authority, now that the monarch had attained his majority.
Condé still, however, pursued his plan, and but too many were found to
give him support in its execution. Nor did he calculate alone, it
would seem, upon his present partisans, and upon the assistance of
Spain; but, knowing the levity of all political characters in that
day, he reckoned boldly upon a great number of his present enemies
coming over to his side, and foresaw, it would appear, that the
approaching recal of Mazarin would soon induce the Fronde itself to
cooperate directly or indirectly in his schemes. Retiring upon
Guyenne, which, from various causes, was almost always ready for
revolt, he at length absolutely raised the standard of rebellion
against the King. A large body of troops, called the Corps de Condé,
abandoned the royal army on the frontiers of Flanders, and went over
at once to the Spanish force, which was now leagued with the Prince.
Considerable bodies of troops joined him in Bordeaux, a great part of
Berri took arms in his favour, and, once more, the flame of civil war
was lighted throughout the land.
Negotiations were immediately entered into between the Court and all
those officers who had refused, on the present occasion, to serve with
the Prince. Of these, Monsieur de Villardin was, of course, one; and
full powers were given to him to raise a regiment in the name of the
King, with a great many other marks of the royal favour and
confidence. He accepted the task without hesitation, and declared his
positive determination never to suffer any circumstances to induce him
again to oppose the royal authority; but, at the same time, in the
vain hope that other events would cause Condé to make his submission,
he delayed as long as possible taking any active part in the warlike
operations against his friend, under the pretence of requiring some
time to complete his preparations.
In the meantime, Condé had lost no time, but was making such progress
in Guyenne, that the whole country began to take alarm at his success.
The Count de Harcourt, however, soon after checked his advance on the
side of Cogniac; and the Maréchal de Gramont, marching with a
considerable body of troops towards Langon, threatened to turn the
flank of the Prince's army. Each of the royal generals commanded more
men, and better disciplined forces, than those which followed Condé,
and the Prince found himself obliged to choose between fighting under
disadvantages which must have proved fatal, or temporising with the
Court, in order to give time for a diversion to be effected in his
favour. He accordingly, with consummate policy, made overtures to the
Queen for permitting the return of Mazarin. The Queen, whose
partiality for her minister did not permit her to see what Condé, as I
have before said, had at once perceived, that the recal of the
Cardinal would immediately throw the whole party of the Fronde,
together with the Parliament and a great body of the people, entirely
into the hands of the rebellious Prince, caught eagerly at the idea of
the minister's return. Not only did she give Condé both time and
repose by negotiating, at a moment when her generals might have pushed
their advantage to his complete overthrow, but, blindly running before
the negotiation, she despatched courier after courier to Mazarin,
without at all requiring that the Prince should commit himself with
the Fronde by joining in the recal of the obnoxious Italian.
Mazarin lost no time, but, at the head of a body of troops which he
had raised in Germany, he entered France, and being immediately joined
by the royal army in Champagne, he advanced at once across the country
towards Poitiers. All that Condé had foreseen now took place: the
Fronde, the Parliament, the people, were astonished and indignant at
the unexpected return of the hated minister. The Duke of Orleans
obtained a decree from the Parliament of Paris, commanding all
governors of towns to arrest him in his progress; a reward of fifty
thousand crowns was offered for his head; an army was raised by the
Duc de Beaufort, who effected his junction with the Duke de Nemours,
the strongest partisan of the Prince de Condé, and their united forces
were joined by a large body of Spaniards, which had been promised some
time before. At the same time the Duke de Rohan, governor of Anjou,
declared for Condé, with the whole province that he commanded, and
every part of the empire seemed rising at once against the authority
of the Court.
Monsieur de Villardin now found that it was no longer a time for
hesitation, and that if all the royalists remained inactive, the
constitution of the country itself must be overthrown. The greater
part of the regiment which had served with him at Bordeaux had been
again collected by his orders in Brittany; three or four more troops
were easily raised in the Orleanois; the whole had been more perfectly
disciplined during the time he had remained in inactivity than they
had ever been before, and the moment that he heard of the general
revolt, he despatched couriers to the Court at Poitiers, to announce
that he was on his march to support its cause, with an effective force
of twelve hundred men. This reinforcement was a matter of no small
consequence to a royal army in those days; and the pleasure that this
news occasioned to the young King and his Court was greatly increased
from the circumstances of the time at which Monsieur de Villardin's
declaration arrived, and from the hope it held out of others following
his example.
A new era was now opening for me. One of the troops of Monsieur de
Villardin's regiment, raised by the authority of the King himself, had
been given to me, and the high road to honour and promotion was now
thrown wide before me. The political events which I have narrated
above had occupied a considerable space of time, so that I was now
more than seventeen. The little property which the kindness of Lord
Masterton and of Monsieur de Villardin had bestowed upon me, was
more than sufficient for all my wants and wishes; my troop was
as fine and well disciplined a one as any in the service; and on the
twenty-eighth of February I commenced my march with Monsieur de
Villardin, full of all the hopes of youth, although I had been
prematurely taught the experience of manhood. I do not know that such
a combination of the two is either pleasant or beneficial to him who
possesses them; and I do believe that nature's plan is the best, in
joining youthful inexperience to youthful passions. For my own part, I
may safely say, that having by the circumstances of my early days been
carried too far forward all through life, I have always found that it
was painful to be older than one's years.
We conducted our march as rapidly as possible towards Poitiers, and I
remember nothing worth relating that occurred on the way. We found,
however, at that town, that the Court and army had proceeded to
Saumur, and following it thither, with only a day's halt, we again
approached the Loire. We were welcomed with infinite joy, and I was
presented by Monsieur de Villardin to the minister and to the young
King, by both of whom I was treated with great kindness. The former
was an elderly man of mild and insinuating manners, but with nothing
either impressive or graceful in his demeanour: the latter was a youth
of a fine intelligent countenance, but apparently far more occupied
with the thoughts of field sports and courtly gallantries than affairs
of state or war.
The royal army at this time was commanded by Marshals Turenne and
d'Hocquincourt; and Monsieur de Villardin immediately received such an
appointment under the command of the former as suited his rank and
experience. We found, however, that our long march to Saumur might
have been spared us, for within four days after our arrival, it was
announced that, quiet being restored in Anjou, and the Prince de Condé
being kept in check by the Count de Harcourt and the Maréchal de
Gramont, the King intended to return immediately to Paris, in order to
take measures against the combined force of Spaniards and insurgents
which was rapidly traversing Champagne, and advancing towards the
Nivernois. The next morning the order to march was given; and
following the course of the Loire, for the purpose of securing the
large towns situated upon that river, we passed through Tours,
Amboise, and Blois, finding the country in general loyal, and willing
to receive the royal army. Orleans, however, shut her gates against
us; and as our own force was small, while the enemy, to the number of
fifteen thousand men, had already entered the Orleanois, the attempt
to reduce the city by force would have been in vain.
Both the Court and the generals were now eager to meet the Dukes of
Nemours and Beaufort, who commanded the adverse force on the other
side of the river, and between whom dissensions were said to exist
which were likely to neutralise entirely the superiority of their
forces: but none, certainly, was more desirous of dislodging them from
their post than Monsieur de Villardin, inasmuch as they occupied a
position extending from Montargis to the Loire, in a line drawn
directly between Loris and Virmont, at the latter of which places we
had left Mademoiselle de Villardin, now a pretty little girl of about
eleven years old. Ere anything else could be attempted, it was
necessary to secure the bridge of Gergeaux, lest the enemy should pass
the river and fall upon our rear. This, however, was not to be done
without some trouble, as the bridge had already been seized by M. de
l'Etouf, Lieutenant-General of the enemy's force, who had found time
to effect a lodgment, and place his cannon, before sufficient troops
could be brought up to dispute the possession.
Here, however, the genius of Turenne at once remedied all
difficulties. Without ammunition, and with only two hundred men, he
kept possession of the little town, erected a barricade upon the
bridge, defended it for two hours against an immensely superior force,
and yielded not a step till a sufficient reinforcement arrived to
enable him to drive back the enemy and blow up the bridge.
Although not present at the beginning of the affair, I obtained leave
to ride on before the party destined to support Monsieur de Turenne,
and brought him the first news of its approach; nor throughout all the
scenes of the kind that I have witnessed, did I ever behold a man who,
in the midst of danger and excitement, displayed such calm, unmoved
tranquillity. He neither looked vehement, nor heated, nor anxious,
but, in the midst of the enemy's fire, which was tremendous, listened
to my report as if I had been giving him an invitation to dinner.
As soon as we had secured our rear by the destruction of the bridge of
Gergeaux, we marched direct upon Gien, and passing the Loire by the
bridge at that town, took up a position at the distance of about
fifteen miles from the enemy, in order to ascertain their exact
situation before hazarding any very bold stroke with our inferior
force. The Court established itself at Gien; and Turenne fixed his
head-quarters at Briare, while the Maréchal d'Hocquincourt took up his
at Blênau. But it was now discovered that forage, which had been
scarce along the whole line of our march, was not to be had in any
sufficient quantity, and the cavalry was obliged to disperse in troops
amongst the villages, in a semicircle of about twenty miles to the
right, left, and rear, of our general position.
Monsieur de Villardin was obliged to remain with Turenne, but he
directed me to post my troop as near as possible to the park and
château of Virmont; though, as a part of the enemy's advanced guard
occupied the little village of that name, I could not approach so near
as I could wish. We found, however, upon inquiry, that our adversaries
were behaving with much courtesy to the people of the country, and
that the château of Monsieur de Villardin had as yet been respected;
but, nevertheless, he was extremely anxious to withdraw his daughter
and household, if possible, from so exposed a situation; and, on
taking my leave of him, I promised to negotiate with the officer who
occupied the village, in order to carry his wish into effect.
Thus long have I been obliged to pause upon the general history of the
times, which has been much better detailed by others; and as I am now
about to return to my private life and personal adventures, I shall
close this chapter here, and begin my narration of the events which
followed on a fresh page.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Leaving Monsieur de Villardin to set out with Turenne, for the purpose
of reconnoitring the enemy's position, I put myself at the head of my
troop, and advanced towards Virmont. It was the fifth of April, and as
beautiful a spring morning as ever was seen; and, winding away from
the banks of the Loire, I led the troop through the shady and obscure
roads in the neighbourhood of Briare, every inch of which I well knew.
The Duke had left the choice of my quarters to myself, as we were not
yet sufficiently acquainted with the enemy's dispositions to enable
him to decide for me; but, before quitting head-quarters, I had fixed
in my own mind upon the ground that I would select, if I found it
practicable on nearer inspection. I soon learned that it was so, for
as we proceeded I met several peasants on the road, from whose report
I was convinced that the post I proposed to take up was sufficiently
removed from the enemy's line to permit of my occupying it with little
risk. Without further hesitation, then, I advanced to the top of the
hill above Virmont, and entered the village which I had already fixed
upon for my quarters. The hamlet itself was situated in the midst of a
grove of tall trees, upon the slope of the hill looking towards
Briare; but, on the other side of the highway, commanding a view down
into the valley on the side of Virmont and Montargis, was placed a
little auberge, at which we had frequently paused upon our hunting
expeditions, and to the landlord of which I was consequently well
known. The enemy's extreme outpost was, as I have said, at Virmont,
with the exception of a few cravattes thrown forward to a farm-house
by the side of the river. Thus the village that I occupied, being on
the other side of the hill, was out of sight of any of their quarters,
while the whole ground covered by their avant-garde could be seen from
the back window and garden of the little auberge at which I took up my
abode. The grove of trees already mentioned hid the village itself
from Briare: but I had remarked, as we came, that a windmill, detached
from the rest of the houses, was clearly to be seen at the
head-quarters of Monsieur de Turenne.
The landlord of the inn was evidently delighted to see me, as he
expected every hour to be put under contribution by the enemy; and he
soon gave me a complete insight into all their movements since their
arrival at Montargis. He set my mind at ease, too, in regard to the
household at the château, assuring me that the officer who commanded
at the village of Virmont had not suffered his men to commit any
excess, nor even to penetrate within the walls of the park. All this
was very satisfactory; but, of course, I determined to follow exactly
the orders of Monsieur de Villardin; and, sending down a flag of
truce, I demanded an interview with the commandant in the village.
This he immediately granted, and riding down with two or three men, I
met him in one of the meadows, by the side of a stream, across which
our conversation was carried on. Explaining to him that it was the
object of Monsieur de Villardin to remove his daughter and household
to a place of greater security, I asked him, for courtesy's sake, to
permit me to carry that purpose into effect.
To this he at once replied, that having the pleasure of being slightly
acquainted with Monsieur de Villardin, he should be delighted to give
him any proof of his high consideration and respect. He added, that I
should be at liberty to pass the river with a serjeant's guard, if I
thought it necessary, in order to escort the young lady to Briare or
Gien.
As it was now near five o'clock, however, it was too late to take
advantage of his offer that evening, and the officer charged himself
to communicate to Father Ferdinand that I would be at the château the
next morning, in order to guard himself and his charge to a place of
security. Some farther conversation ensued in regard to the hour; and,
in the midst of it, a horseman, followed by several attendants, came
up at full speed, to communicate something to the officer with whom I
had been speaking. The new comer sprang to the ground at once, and,
amidst feathers, and plumes, and lace, and embroidery, I recognised
immediately my old enemy Gaspard de Belleville. I saw that his
remembrance of me was not less quick, but, as he turned his back
towards me, and seemed desirous of avoiding every appearance of
recognition, I assumed an air of perfect unconsciousness, and, bidding
the officer adieu, with many thanks for his courtesy and politeness, I
mounted my horse and again rode up the hill. The distance was about
two miles, and almost all the farmers who occupied the ground from the
river to the village were either tenants or vassals of Monsieur de
Villardin and Monsieur Loris, and consequently completely at my
command.
At each of the farm-houses, as I went, I paused for a few minutes,
and, explaining to the farmers the necessity of keeping an acute watch
upon the enemy, I made them promise that in case they saw, during the
night, any movement in advance, they would each, one after another,
set fire to a pile of brushwood in their court-yard; and, for the
purpose of rendering our intelligence more secure, two or three of
those in the immediate vicinity of the river agreed to take it by
turns each night to sit up and mark the motions of the adverse force.
On my arrival at the village, also, I rode directly to the mill, which
luckily proved to be built of stone, with a little sort of platform
near the top, by means of which the miller reached and regulated the
sails. Much to his surprise, and somewhat to his consternation, I
caused this little parapet to be loaded with brushwood, and then,
explaining to him that it might be necessary to set fire to the pile,
I told him to do his best to prevent the building itself from catching
fire, in the event of our being compelled to use his mill as a stand
for our beacon. Leaving half a dozen men to give him assistance in
removing the sails and everything combustible from the neighbourhood
of the platform, I returned to the little inn, and wrote a letter to
Monsieur de Villardin, telling him what I had done, and informing him
that if he saw my beacon lighted on the mill, he might be sure that
the enemy were making some decided movement, preparatory to an attack
upon the royal army. This I instantly sealed and sent off--though not
without letting the Duke know that I had seen Gaspard de Belleville at
the enemy's outpost; but leaving him to draw his own deductions.
Although these precautions might be very well justified by the general
circumstances of the case, I confess that I should not have been so
prudent as to take them, had no particular suspicion been superadded;
but the simple fact of the appearance of Gaspard at the adverse
avant-garde had set my mind upon forming a train of conclusions, which
I shall now state, and which, though wild enough in themselves,
ultimately proved correct. I have before said, that on being sent to
Bordeaux by Monsieur de Villardin, the page, at his lord's
solicitation, had received a commission in the regiment of the Duke de
Bouillon. That regiment, officers and soldiers, had afterwards gone
over to the Prince de Condé, and the last that we had heard of Gaspard
de Belleville was, that he had gained considerable favour with the
Prince, and had distinguished himself highly in his service during the
revolt in Guienne. Every one believed that Condé was still in that
province, hemmed in by the Count de Harcourt and the Maréchal de
Gramont. But Gaspard de Belleville, who was not the brightest genius
that ever lived, had contrived to effect his passage through the
forces of Harcourt and Gramont, and had joined the army of the Dukes
of Beaufort and Nemours. Where he could pass, I thought, surely Condé
could pass also; and I asked myself if there were not a thousand
reasons for supposing he would make the attempt, if the enterprise
were feasible. He could do little or nothing in Guienne--the Dukes of
Nemours and Beaufort were wasting their time, and ruining a fine army
by their dissensions--no one could put an end to those disputes but
Condé, and if he could but contrive to join their force, instead of
being cooped up in a distant corner of the kingdom, without power to
act, he would be at the head of a superior force, and interposed in an
advantageous position between the capital and the royal army. Thus I
thought there was every inducement for him to make the attempt; that
it might be made with success was proved by the appearance of Gaspard
de Belleville; and I doubted not that the great Condé himself was by
this time at the head of the troops opposed to us. The next conclusion
was, that if he really were so, we should not be long without having
reason to be quite certain of his presence; and such were the motives
that induced me to take the precautions I have related.
Nay, more; so strong was the impression upon my mind that many hours
would not elapse before we should have cause for activity and
exertion, that I would not take off my own clothes; but, after having
suffered the horses to rest for five or six hours, I ordered them to
be again saddled towards nine o'clock, and, placing a sentry at the
end of the garden, I lay down for an hour or two on the table in the
inn kitchen, the door of which was left open, that I might hear the
first alarm. Everything remained quiet, however, till midnight, when
the sentry paused by the door to inform me that he had seen some
lights moving through the wood in the direction of Montargis. I
instantly sprang up and went out into the garden: but the lights had
disappeared; and though I gazed out for several minutes, I could see
nothing to confirm the soldier's account. As I was about to turn away,
I heard a dull sort of sound, coming up from the valley; and the
moment afterwards a small spot of light appeared in the direction of
the farm-house nearest to the stream. In a moment it grew larger,
increased into a blaze, my other watchers took up the signal, fire
after fire blazed up along the side of the hill, and, ordering the
beacon on the mill to be instantly fired, I commanded the men to mount
and draw out upon the high road, while I went down to reconnoitre what
was passing in the valley. Scarcely had I taken a dozen steps in that
direction, however, when one of the farmers on whom I could depend
came up in breathless haste, to inform me that the avant-garde of the
enemy had marched out of the village, and were taking their way down
the course of the stream. Another large body, he said, was advancing
by the high road in the same direction; and, as I doubted not now that
the lights which the sentry had seen towards the north-west had been a
third division following the road from Chàtillon, it seemed clear that
the enemy's whole force were advancing upon the quarters of the
Maréchal d'Hocquincourt at Blênau. Instantly sending off a trooper
with this intelligence to Monsieur de Turenne, and another to Monsieur
d'Hocquincourt with the same news--which last courier, by the way, I
chose because he was famous for speed, I prepared to lead my troop
into the valley, in order to take advantage of anything that might
occur, rather choosing to risk a little without orders than to remain
in inactivity. When I had proceeded half-way down a steep and narrow
lane, which conducted directly towards one of the gates of the park, I
caught a glimpse of a large body of the enemy winding over a hill,
which lay flat and dark against the sky, now faintly lighted by the
beams of the rising moon. From what I saw, I concluded that it was
their rear-guard which was thus accidentally exposed to my sight; but
the moment after, a dull reddish colour began to tinge the clouds,
just above the château of Virmont, growing brighter and brighter every
moment, with a sort of flickering reflection, which showed that some
large mass of buildings was on fire in that direction. The trees of
the park prevented us from seeing what was the precise cause; but,
filled with apprehension in regard to Mademoiselle de Villardin and
good Father Ferdinand, I hurried our advance as much as the nature of
the ground would admit, forded the river opposite the park, and,
forcing the gate, which was locked, soon found myself in one of the
alleys that led directly to the château.
The light we had seen no longer wanted any explanation. Through the
long perspective of the trees I saw the house and all its offices in
one general blaze, while on the terrace, in front of the château, a
small body of infantry appeared, drawn up in military array,
contemplating the spectacle which their own hands had produced. We
were at such a distance, and the noise in the neighbourhood of the
burning building was so great, that the enemy neither saw nor heard
our first entrance into the park, although the bright light in which
they stood enabled us to remark their movements as well as if it had
been day. I had at this time about eighty men with me, almost every
one of them born in the neighbourhood; and well knowing what are the
feelings of those who see the flame of warfare brought to their own
homestead, I merely said, "Now, my men, if you have the feelings of
men, follow me, to avenge your lord and your commander. You, Bourdon,
lead your men round by the alley on the left, where they will not see
you; I will take round by the right; and when we get to the sloping
ground which leads up to the terrace, let us charge them on both
flanks, and drive them into the flames they have kindled."
This plan was executed as soon as proposed. Bourdon, my lieutenant,
led one half of the troop to the left of the terrace, at the same
moment that I appeared on the other side; and though the enemy had by
this time become aware of our approach, and received us with a severe
fire of musketry, we charged them with all the determination of hatred
and revenge, and cut them down almost to a man. At that moment,
however, an event occurred, which, in the passion and heat of the
circumstances, I had not at all anticipated. A much larger body of
infantry than that which had occupied the terrace drew out from the
court behind, and I had just time to recognise in their commander my
old enemy, Gaspard de Belleville, when the word was given to fire. Ten
or twelve of my men dropped round about me in a moment; a violent blow
seemed to strike my right shoulder, and with a strange feeling of
faintness I fell headlong from my horse. I made one ineffectual effort
to rise; but as I did so, the terrace, the park, the conflict that was
still going on, and the burning château, swam round and round before
my eyes; the feeling of faint sickness increased more and more, and in
another instant complete forgetfulness of everything came over me.
Nearly two hours must have passed as I lay in this state; and
when I recovered my senses, I found myself cast carelessly upon a
baggage-wagon, stiff, bruised, and in great pain, though a number of
bandages round my neck and shoulders showed me that I had been tended
with some degree of care. It was still night, but there was a slight
tinge of grey in the sky, which spoke that morning was not far
distant, and by the noise of other wagons and the tramp of marching
men, I judged that I was carried along with a retreating army. In the
front part of the wagon, at a very short distance from me, sat a
female figure, the countenance of which I could not distinguish in the
darkness; but a groan breaking from my lips, as the jolts of the
vehicle gave me a degree of agony indescribable, caused her to
approach and take my head in her lap, adding a few words of comfort.
The voice I recognised at once as that of Suzette, who had been the
_servante_ of Madame de Villardin; but it was so changed in its tone, so
low and sad, that I was almost led to doubt whether my ear had not
deceived me. A feeling of abhorrence towards the woman--excited
certainly more by my suspicions than by my knowledge--would have made
me shrink from her, had it been possible. So weak, however, had I
become, that I could neither move hand nor foot, and the pain of the
attempt only called another groan from my bosom, which drew her
attention still more towards me. Whether she had any particular motive
in the care she took of me, or whether it sprung alone from that
tender-heartedness which even the worst of women feel on beholding
suffering and distress, of course I could not tell; but to do her but
justice, she certainly tended me most kindly, and just as day was
breaking, we found ourselves at the little town of Château Renard.
Here she descended from the wagon, and was giving directions to the
drivers to lift me gently into a little auberge, when Gaspard de
Belleville himself, riding up at full speed, caught her by the
shoulder, and giving her a rude shake, exclaimed, "Get up!--get up!
You are not going to halt here!"--and then turning to the wagoners, he
cursed them brutally for having paused at all, ordering them to make
all speed onward towards Champagne.
"What in the devil's name have you there?" he exclaimed, pointing
towards me, whose face he could not very well see.
"Only a wounded officer," replied Suzette.
"And what business has a wounded officer on your wagon?" cried he,
sharply; "but get up, get up, and lose no time;" and riding on to the
wagons which had preceded us, and which had likewise halted, he
apparently gave more particular orders, and then galloped back,
calling to Suzette as he passed to make the best of her way to Marou,
and wait his coming there.
As I had never heard of Marou in my life, I was of course at a loss to
know in what direction I was about to be borne; but, to tell the
truth, in the state of feebleness and pain in which I then was, I
cared so little what became of me, that I did not give the matter a
second thought. The wagon rolled on; but at a little village, about
five miles farther on, we were obliged to pause till fresh horses
could be procured; and as this was not to be done without compulsion,
a good deal of time was lost, while, lying on the top of the packages
with which the vehicle was loaded, wounded, exhausted, and feverish, I
suffered more than it is possible to describe. It luckily happened
that the sky was dull and cloudy; for had it been one of those hot
oppressive days which are sometimes met with in April, I do not think
I should have been alive at night. Suzette, however, was kinder than I
imagined she could have been: brought me drink several times to
assuage the burning thirst that now consumed me, assured me that
before night I should have a surgeon to dress my wounds, and did all
in her power to keep up my spirits and to soothe my pain. A change had
apparently taken place in her feelings since last I had beheld her,
and a change had also taken place in her appearance, for I saw--and
remembered afterwards, though it made but little impression on my mind
at the time--that her dress was very different from that in which she
had appeared in Bordeaux; and, indeed, the only mode of conveyance
which was assigned to her would have rendered any other apparel than
that of the simplest kind both ridiculous and cumbersome.
Through the whole of that day we travelled on, accompanied, as it
appeared to me, by a small party of horse; but, nevertheless, Gaspard
de Belleville did not again make his appearance, and towards night we
halted at a village near Joigny. Here a surgeon was procured for me,
who, though none of the best, contrived to extract the ball out of my
side, after putting me to terrible torture for nearly half an hour.
The relief, however, that I experienced was immediate; and the wound
being properly dressed, I fell sound asleep, even before I was removed
from the table on which the operation had been performed. The next
morning early I found Suzette again by the side of the straw-bed on
which I was stretched; and by this time I had recovered sufficient
strength to ask her what had become of Father Ferdinand and
Mademoiselle de Villardin, when the château of Virmont had been
burned. She replied, that she could not tell, as she had not come up
till afterwards; and she added, at the same time, an injunction not to
trouble myself about other people, but to keep as quiet as
circumstances would permit, out of consideration for myself.
This warning was uttered with a touch of that flippancy which had been
her characteristic while in the service of Madame de Villardin, but it
was the only remaining trait of the kind that I now remarked. It was
sufficient, however, to make me turn from her again in some degree of
disgust, by awakening all the memories of the past; but she did not
seem to perceive any emotion of the sort, and the party being once
more prepared to set out, I was again placed on the wagon, though a
pile of straw had been spread to form a sort of bed for me on the top
of the packages, and a piece of canvas had been drawn across as an
awning for my head. Another day's journey brought us about twenty
miles further in Champagne, and towards four o'clock, the wagon in
which I was placed stopped at the turning of a cross-road, near which
was a farmhouse. A number of the peasants were called up to the side
of the vehicle; and, under the directions of Suzette, several of the
packages which it contained were carried down the road. A couple of
planks were then procured, and, being tied together, I was placed
thereon, and lifted up from the ground by four stout men, who
proceeded to bear me in the direction which those who carried the
baggage had already taken. At the distance of about a mile and a half
from the high road we came to a house, which, though distinguishable
in every respect from a farm, did not at all deserve the name of a
château. It was, indeed, one of those dwellings which, at that time,
were commonly called in France a _gentilhommière_, and which were
generally inhabited by persons of gentle birth but small fortunes,
who, after having served in the army the customary five or six years,
retired to fit their younger children for becoming lawyers, abbés, and
soldiers of fortune, while the heir to the estate prepared to tread
exactly in his father's footsteps, and follow the same laudable and
quiet path.
Up the steps of this building was I carried by my sturdy bearers, and
in the hall I found Suzette, who had preceded us by some minutes,
giving orders for my accommodation to two or three servants, male and
female, who called her Madame, and acknowledged her commands as those
of their mistress. Carried into a neat small chamber on the ground
floor, I was undressed by the hands of the lacquey, and put to bed. In
a few hours more a surgeon visited me, and I saw no one else but
himself and the servant for two or three days, except when, once every
morning, Suzette visited my bed-side, asked briefly whether I was
getting better, and left me as soon as I had replied.
On the fourth day, however, when she appeared, she sat down by my
bed-side, and, instead of addressing me in the usual hurried manner,
she paused thoughtfully, and looked anxiously in my face, even before
she inquired after my health. Her whole manner, indeed, was absent and
agitated; and after two or three remarks on indifferent subjects, she
said, abruptly, "I have something to tell you, Monsieur Hall, which
_must_ be told, and which _shall_ be told, though I had intended to wait
for two or three days longer, till you were well enough to hear it,
and I had got courage enough to tell it; but he is coming home
to-morrow, and heaven knows, if I do not tell it now, whether I shall
ever be permitted to tell it at all."
As there was much that she had in her power to communicate which I
would have given my right hand to hear, I assured her that I was quite
well enough to attend to and remember everything she might say. She
hesitated, however, long, although it was evident that it was the
question, how to tell her tale, not any doubt in regard to telling it,
that embarrassed her; and after beginning and breaking off at least
twenty times, she at length summoned courage, and proceeded with her
story as follows:--
"SUZETTE'S CONFESSION.
"I must make what I have to say a sort of history," she said, "in
order that you may understand me clearly. In my early life you, of
course, would find no manner of interest, and I shall therefore only
tell you, as some excuse for much that happened after, that both my
parents died young, and left me, before my education had commenced, to
the care of a brother, who, though a daring, clever, courageous young
man, was wild, obstinate, and headstrong himself, and, therefore, but
little fitted to guide or direct me. He served early in various
capacities in the navy; but as he never thought of saving anything
which might have put us in a better station in life, the best that he
could do for me was to fit me for the station of waiting-woman to a
lady of high rank, and to obtain for me that situation in the family
of Madame de Villardin. I followed my mistress to Paris, where I
learnt from other women in the same situation all that is bad and
foolish in the character of a Parisian soubrette, and added a vast
quantity of conceit and obstinacy of my own. My mistress was gay and
light, but in those respects she was not more so than every other
woman in Paris, while, at the same time, she differed from all of them
in never suffering herself to believe that it was possible to wrong
her husband, even by a thought. This purity of mind, however, which
should have made me admire and love her, had, I am sorry to say, quite
the contrary effect. Almost every other suivante with whom I was
acquainted in Paris was the confidante of her mistress, and the
depositary of a number of secrets which would not have well suited the
public eye. I had learned, too, from the femme-de-chambre of Madame de
Montbazon and several others, that a woman was never sure of her
place, secure of her perquisites, or, in short, was half so well
treated, as when her mistress was engaged in some affair which put
her, in a degree, into the power of her soubrette. Thus, those
qualities in Madame de Villardin which best entitled her to respect
and affection, produced quite a different result with me. I confess,
too, that I often did my best, as far as I could, without ruining
myself in her opinion, to lead her to follow the example set her by so
many of her friends and acquaintances; but though at first this would
have appeared an easy task, from her apparent thoughtlessness and
great love of admiration, yet I found that the endeavour was in vain,
and I soon learned that if I risked any bold counsel of the kind, I
should soon be dismissed in disgrace.
"About that time Monsieur de Belleville, the only son of the gentleman
to whom this property then belonged, was admitted, as a great favour,
amongst the pages of Monsieur de Villardin. He was but fifteen, and I
was twenty; he was the son of a gentleman, I of the class bourgeoise;
but, notwithstanding all these obstacles, I determined, from the
moment that he entered the family, to make it my business so to
captivate him, as to relieve myself from a situation that I detested
by becoming his wife. To obtain this end there were few things that I
would not have done, and I soon found that, thanks to his natural
disposition and my own address, I was very likely to succeed, as soon
as Monsieur de Villardin obtained for him that commission which it was
understood he was to receive at the age of seventeen or eighteen.
"Such was the state of things when you entered the dwelling of
Monsieur de Villardin, and some quarrel took place between you and
Gaspard, which ended in his conceiving a hatred for you, which never
was and never will be quenched. He, of course, communicated his hatred
to me, and more than one scheme did we form between us, for the
purpose of compelling you to quit the dwelling that we inhabited. This
was the extent of our design at first, but it soon spread out to baser
and more criminal purposes, which, for motives that I may hereafter
explain, I am now about to reveal to you fully. The high estimation in
which you were held by Monsieur de Villardin, of course acted upon
Gaspard in adding envy to dislike; but, before two months were over,
he found an opportunity of gratifying both, which he did not fail to
seize. You communicated, one day, it seems, to Monsieur de Villardin
in his presence, that you had rescued a man from the gallows, and,
without well knowing whether the consequence would be your own death
in place of the malefactor, or your imprisonment in the Bastile for
life, he found means of informing against you that very night, and had
you not been promptly sent from Paris, you would have been arrested
the next morning.
"About that time the Count de Mesnil first began to visit at the hotel
of Monsieur de Villardin, and I soon saw that regard for his friend
was rapidly giving place to admiration for his friend's wife; and, of
course, I had no objection to promote his views, though I perceived
from the first that Madame de Villardin looked upon him with, if
anything, less complacency than she did upon the other gentlemen who
frequented our house. As I knew, however, that the estates of Monsieur
de Mesnil were in the immediate vicinity of those belonging to
Monsieur de Villardin in Brittany, and as my brother, whom I was very
anxious to see, and whom I truly loved, was in that province, I
determined to try whether I could not bring about a removal of the
whole family thither; and, taking advantage of Monsieur de Villardin's
jealousy, which I had long marked as an engine to be made use of in
case of necessity, I contrived by a few well directed hints and words
to make him quit Paris in haste, and proceed to the Prés Vallée. His
jealousy, indeed, went farther than I had intended; and he was foolish
enough to give way to a vehement fit of passion with his wife, which
inflicted the first deep and painful stroke upon her domestic
happiness. Although I had not intended this, I confess it did not give
me any great pain, for I sincerely disliked my mistress, while
affecting to be very much attached to her. In the meanwhile, the
hatred of Gaspard towards you increased rather than diminished, as
well as his passion for myself, which had, by this time, become as
ardent as I could desire it. Some of our love meetings, however, in
the woods of the Prés Vallée had, as it seemed, been observed by some
one, who communicated the facts to the Duchess. She immediately spoke
to me upon the subject, and that in too severe a manner to be
forgotten or forgiven by one of my disposition. On her accusing me of
lightness of conduct towards a boy like Gaspard, I replied, 'What, if
he choose to marry me?' But this only called down upon me a more
severe proof; and she pointed out the difference of age and station in
such a tone as made my blood boil, adding, that if ever I were seen
walking with him again, she would instantly communicate the whole
affair to Monsieur de Villardin, and at once dismiss me from her
service. Of all this I, of course, informed Gaspard, and our prejudice
against you led us to conclude, though I now know that we did so
erroneously, that you had acted as a spy upon our conduct. The
consequence was, that we determined upon a plan, the object of which
was, at once to revenge ourselves upon you and upon my mistress. I
must not paint myself or him, however, in worse colours than we
deserve, and I must say that we neither of us contemplated the full
extent of evil that was likely to ensue from the very designs that we
formed. Neither Gaspard nor myself had ever received any strict or
powerful principles, and, therefore, much that was really wrong we did
not regard as any evil, while that which we really did know to be
improper, our passions induced us to undertake at all risks. The plan
which we formed I will now tell you. But you are fatigued," she added;
"and the surgeon warned me to keep you from all conversation. I am
obliged, indeed, to disobey his directions, for I shall have no other
opportunity than that afforded me by to-day, to relate to you events
which you must promise me faithfully to recapitulate, word for word,
as far as you can remember, to Monsieur de Villardin. However, to-day
is still ours, and as you are now fatigued, I will leave you for a
couple of hours, and finish my story when I return."
I would fain have persuaded her to conclude it at once, and
endeavoured to make her believe that I was really not fatigued; but I
rather imagine that my appearance contradicted the assertion, and,
adhering to her determination, she left me to repose.
CHAPTER XXV.
It may be easily conceived, that every word I had just heard had
interested me deeply, and Suzette might certainly have continued her
history without agitating me more than my own thoughts did while she
was absent. I counted every moment till her return; and when at length
she reappeared, I eagerly besought her to proceed with her
explanation, which she did at once, in a brief--even abrupt style,
that led me to imagine that she was under the constant apprehension of
interruption.
"As I had anticipated," she continued, "the Count de Mesnil was not
long in following us into Brittany; and, having seen how easily the
mind of Monsieur de Villardin was to be worked upon, Gaspard and
myself determined, as we could not render the Duchess guilty, to
render her husband jealous. Nor did we now seek to do so incompletely,
by raising vague suspicions, but we proposed to give him such evidence
of the conduct of Madame de Villardin, and of your connivance in the
views of the Count de Mesnil, that we should rid ourselves of you for
ever, place the Duke entirely in our power, and gain the highest place
in the confidence of our lord.
"Monsieur de Mesnil was not at all unaware of the influence of the
maid in such pursuits as that in which he was then engaged, and, on
his first visit to the Prés Vallée, he found an opportunity of holding
a long conference with me, the result of which was no small increase
of hope on his part, and considerable profits on mine. Although he
was, it is true, one of those men who call themselves men of pleasure,
and who make intrigue not only a business, but a toilsome one, in the
present instance I found that he had been drawn beyond all cold
calculations, and that he was certainly in love as deeply and
passionately as any boy. He besought me, eagerly and anxiously, to
obtain for him but a lock of my mistress's hair; and of course this
was no very difficult undertaking. The lock was easily cut away
unperceived, while I was superintending her toilet; and, having
enclosed it in the locket which the Count had given me for the
purpose, I took the liberty of adding thereto part of a broad blue
riband which my mistress had bought just before we quitted Paris,
trusting that the ingenuity of Gaspard and myself would easily find
some means of bringing these objects under the notice of Monsieur de
Villardin. The next thing was, if possible, to make you the bearer of
the packet to Monsieur de Mesnil; and Gaspard caused one of the
younger pages to give the locket itself, carefully wrapped in numerous
envelopes, into your hands, begging you, the first time you passed in
hunting near the château of the Count, to deliver it to his intendant.
The outer paper was addressed to the intendant, the inner bore the
superscription of Monsieur de Mesnil, written in a hand as nearly
similar to that of the Duchess as I could make it. The boy who gave it
to you was told, in case of after-inquiry on the part of Monsieur de
Villardin, to say boldly that Gaspard gave it him; Gaspard was to put
it upon me, and I was at once to avow, that I had received the packet
from Madame de Villardin, each declaring our ignorance of the
contents, but Gaspard vowing that he had heard the Duchess direct me
to place it carefully in your hands, as you would know what to do with
it. In addition to this, I was to excuse my not having given it to you
myself, on the score of my dislike to you; and Gaspard was to make the
same apology, adding, that he had seen too much of your cogging with
Monsieur de Mesnil to have anything to do with the business. The next
part of our plan was to have you so well watched, that we should
obtain information of when you were likely to deliver the packet,
which we well knew you would do boldly and without concealment; and
then to excite the suspicions of the Duke, who, we doubted not, would
instantly stop the packet and examine its contents.
"Such was the scheme we formed, adding thereto a thousand minor
touches, in order to make every part tell against you and the Duchess;
but the impatience of the Count de Mesnil ruined all. He returned to
the Prés Vallée the very day after you had received the commission,
and, taking me off my guard, led me foolishly to acknowledge that I
had obtained the lock of hair he sought. Under those circumstances,
there was nothing farther to be done than to get the packet out of
your hands, which was effected by means of the boy who had given it to
you; and the Count--who on that occasion stayed three days at the
château,--received it with both delight and gratitude, of which last
affection I received golden proofs. On the very day of his departure,
Gaspard discovered that the Duke was called to Rennes on business
which would detain him in that city many hours; and, of course,
through my intervention, this piece of news was communicated to
Monsieur de Mesnil before he took his leave. He did not inform me what
use he intended to make of these tidings, but I took good care to see
that all doors were open, and the two younger pages out of the way.
About half-an-hour after the Duke's departure for Rennes, I saw the
Count approaching on foot; and, turning from the window to my
embroidery, I left the rest to take its course.
"In less than ten minutes, the Duchess entered her chamber, with her
cheek flushed and her eye flashing, and I easily discovered, from her
whole appearance, that Monsieur de Mesnil had received a rebuff, for
which I determined to console him by calling to his mind all that
perseverance can do with woman. In this purpose, however, I was
disappointed, for I never saw the Count again. I suspect," she added,
gazing on me steadily, "that you could tell more in regard to that
affair!--but no matter; I am making a confession, not receiving
one.--Shortly after the disappearance of the Count de Mesnil, Monsieur
de Villardin sent for me one evening, and directed me to obtain for
him, without appearing to do so, a lock of his lady's hair; but
conscience making me think he suspected what I had done, I cried,
'Lord, sir! it is impossible without her discovering me!' Nothing I
could have said would have tended more to aggravate his suspicions in
regard to his wife, and he bade me, sharply, do as he directed,
whether she discovered me or not. His orders were obeyed without
difficulty, and the same night I gave him a small portion of the
Duchess's hair, which I assured him was all that I could obtain
without being found out. He took it eagerly, and forgetting, in his
jealous vehemence, that I was in the room, he drew forth a locket and
a riband, which showed me plainly enough that he at least must have
seen Monsieur de Mesnil since I had set eyes upon him. He caught me
gazing at the locket as he compared the hair within it with that he
held in his hand, and angrily bade me quit the room; but the discovery
did no harm to our plans, for once having suffered his feelings to
appear before me, he was less scrupulous afterwards in questioning me
upon the subject. Gaspard was the agent by whom I was generally called
to his presence, and while we left his suspicions against our lady in
the same state as we found them, we endeavoured, as far as we could,
to inculpate you, and to make him believe that you had been a
confidant and a favourite of the Count de Mesnil. In this, however, we
were always frustrated; and seeing that there were facts within his
own knowledge which rendered our most artful insinuations in regard to
you ineffectual, we were, of course, obliged to proceed carefully.
"After our change of residence, however, and the fresh degree of
favour you acquired at Dumont, we determined upon laying some new
scheme for your destruction. Madame de Villardin, I thought, had been
punished enough, and I began almost to be sorry that I had done as I
had done; for I believe a woman is never altogether without compassion
for the sorrows of a woman, unless she be jealous of her. I saw peace
and a certain degree of happiness restored between the Duke and his
wife after the arrival of Father Ferdinand, with more satisfaction
than I had imagined I could have done a month before; but Gaspard felt
differently, and was continually urging me to proceed with our former
plans, and still endeavour to rouse the suspicions of the Duke against
you in regard to the Count de Mesnil, asking whether I could not place
some of the riband which had been attached to the locket in your
apartments, and suggesting many another scheme of the kind. I
resisted, however, till at length one unfortunate evening we were seen
together, walking after dark in the park, with my arm clasped in his,
and his arm round my waist. The next day, the Duchess again spoke to
me in even more severe terms than before, and told me that I must
prepare to leave her service at the expiration of a month. My
resolution was now taken. I soothed, flattered, lamented, expressed my
contrition, and promised a different conduct; but still she adhered to
her determination, though, at the same time, she assured me that she
would take care to place me well in Paris. Affecting to forget all her
severity, I the next day engaged her in the examination of her
wardrobe, and taking care to fix her attention particularly on that
fatal blue riband, which had been curtailed by my hands in order to
attach a part of it to the locket, I made a sudden pretext to leave
her, ran to Monsieur de Villardin, and told him that I felt it my duty
to acknowledge that I had just seen in the hands of my lady a part of
the very same riband which I had once beheld in his own, fixed to a
locket that seemed to give him great uneasiness. He scarcely heard
half that I said, but, flying to his wife's dressing-room, gave way to
a fit of passion which was fearful even to me. The result you well
know, and probably are better acquainted with many of the particulars
than I am. All I will say on that score," she added, somewhat sternly,
"is, that it was a strange thing a bridge which had borne horses three
or four days before, should give way under the weight of two people on
foot.--Do you think, young gentleman, that the weight of Monsieur de
Villardin's suspicions, and of the Duchess's sorrows, was sufficient
to break it down?--However, if you had any hand in that deed too, my
confession may make you feel some part of the remorse that I have felt
since."
"In regard to the matter you speak of," I replied, "I know no more
than you do. It was extraordinary that the bridge should break; but
yet such circumstances have happened before, and will again, without
any one being able to tell why the structure that was firm at one
moment should give way the next."
She shook her head, doubtingly, and then went on:--"I have now told
you all that matters much for you to hear, and you must promise me to
repeat the whole to Monsieur de Villardin, word for word, as far as
you can recollect it."
"I do not well see," I replied, "what object is to be gained by doing
so. The Duchess is dead; his suspicions were unjust; and I see no
reason why I should wring his heart by recalling events to his memory,
of which time itself has scarcely been able to soften the
remembrance."
"If you do not tell him," she cried, vehemently, "you shall not return
to him for years. But stay," she added, perhaps recollecting that I
was not easily moved by threats, "have you so little the feelings of
honour, so small a portion of chivalrous spirit, as not to think it
worth while to clear the reputation of an injured lady, even though
she be dead?"
"I should certainly think it worth while," I replied, "did her
reputation require any defence, even to her husband: but such is not
the case; and at this moment, Monsieur de Villardin is as completely
convinced of his wife's innocence as you have ever been."
"Indeed!" she replied--"indeed!" and gazing on my countenance for a
moment or two, with a look in which surprise was mingled in some
degree with disappointment, she repeated more than once the word,
"indeed!" The instant after, she added, however, "Still you must tell
him what I have said, for the mind of a suspicious man can never have
too conclusive an evidence to remove his doubts; and if there be one
point left uncleared, suspicion will hang round it still, and haunt
him to his very last day."
I knew what she said to be true; but her eagerness in the business,
joined with the traits of art and deceit which she had just before
acknowledged, made me also suspicious of her motives; and as I did not
wish, without cause, to be the instrument of inflicting deep pain on
Monsieur de Villardin, I resolved not to undertake the commission,
till she had explained the anxiety she manifested to induce me to do
so. "If you will tell me," I replied, "what are your real motives, and
why you cannot make this confession by letter as well as by my
intervention, I will undertake what you desire, should I find your
explanation satisfy mc; but I will undertake it on no other terms; and
should you wish to communicate farther with Monsieur de Villardin, you
must do so in writing."
"My heart is better than you think it, young gentleman," she answered,
somewhat bitterly; "but I forgive your doubts, for my conduct was evil
enough when you knew me, and I fear is not over good even now.
However, my motives for desiring you to bear this confession to
Monsieur de Villardin, and for not trusting it to a common letter, are
easily explained. You can choose the moment and the manner of making
the communication, and I do not seek to pain, any more than necessary,
one I have already pained too much. In the next place, my letter might
never reach him; for though I seem to command all here, in some things
I am watched as closely as a prisoner. The letter, too, might, and
probably would, fall into the hands of one, who would inflict upon me
a bitter enough punishment for the crime of having written it--and
therefore it is that I choose this means rather than another. As to
why I make the confession at all, if you still need other motives, I
can give you many; but you are too fatigued to hear them."
I assured her that such was not the case, and begged her, if she were
really sincere, to assign the true causes for her conduct, in which
case I promised to do exactly as she would have me.
"Well, then," she said, "you must hear out my story, and it shall not
be a long one. When I was dismissed from Dumont in disgrace, I retired
to the little neighbouring town of St. Etienne, whence I wrote
immediately to Gaspard de Belleville, who came to see me that night,
and desired me to remain tranquilly where I was, as, beyond doubt,
Monsieur de Villardin would soon obtain for him a commission, which he
had long been of an age to hold. From him I learned that the
information which had first caused my disgrace with my mistress, and
had afterwards ruined me with the Duke, had not been given by you, as
we had suspected, but by Jerome, the old major-domo. I found, however,
that Gaspard had luckily escaped his lord's indignation; and, as a
consequence of all this, I remained at St. Etienne in some degree of
concealment, it is true, but in great tranquillity regarding the
result, as I saw that no separation was likely to take place between
myself and Gaspard, which could diminish his passion, or thwart my
schemes respecting him. Suddenly, however, about four days after my
dismissal, Gaspard himself appeared on horseback, and in a hurried
manner informed me that he was about to set off instantly for
Bordeaux, bearing letters from Monsieur de Villardin to the Duc de
Bouillon, in whose regiment he was immediately to have a commission.
He offered, at the same time, to take me with him, if I would consent,
and to endeavour to obtain his father's permission to marry me, after
we had arrived at Guienne. Hitherto, I had always wisely avoided
putting myself in any degree in his power, but now the fear of seeing
all my plans overturned by his removal from my influence, joined to
his entreaties and persuasions, induced me weakly to consent, and that
very night we set out together for Bordeaux. Monsieur de Villardin had
liberally supplied my lover with the money necessary both to perform
the journey to Bordeaux, and to meet all the first expenses of two
years' service in the regiment of Monsieur de Bouillon, without
trusting at all to his pay. I myself also had accumulated no small sum
during the five or six years I had remained with the Duchess; so that,
on our arrival, we found ourselves enabled to live, not only in
comfort, but in profusion. Splendour, dress, and admiration became my
passion; but the arrival of Monsieur de Villardin and yourself, about
a month afterwards, soon obliged me to seek retirement once more.
Although I felt the necessity, for the sake of Gaspard's interests, of
concealing my connexion with him from his former lord, yet my meeting
with you in the streets of Bordeaux was not displeasing to me, as I
felt a degree of amusement in fancying that I had dazzled you with the
splendour of my appearance. As soon as the gates of the city were
opened, after the conclusion of the siege, Gaspard, who was left
behind by Monsieur de Bouillon, to make a great number of arrangements
which the Duke himself had not time to complete, received intelligence
of his father's death, and I instantly pressed him to perform his
promise, and legitimate our union by marriage. Gaspard, however, by
this time, had acquired new ideas from his commune with the world, and
he evaded my request in such a manner as to leave very little doubt
upon my mind in regard to his determination of breaking his promise.
This opened my eyes to my weakness, and a fit of illness followed,
which, though but of short duration, yet had the good effect of making
me think very bitterly of many things that I had done. A good priest
of the city took advantage of my state of mind to direct my repentance
aright, and made me promise, ere he would grant me absolution, that on
the very first opportunity I would clear the character of Madame de
Villardin in the eyes of her husband. I forgot this promise, it is
true, in after-events, but I remember it now, and seek to fulfil it.
In the meantime, Gaspard became alarmed at my situation, and all his
former tenderness returned; but still, I am sure that he would have
evaded the fulfilment of his promise, had not a circumstance
fortunately occurred to change my situation in regard to him.
"After your departure from Bordeaux it became no longer necessary for
me to use any concealment, and my loup was very generally laid aside.
Thus it happened that I was walking with Gaspard, without any covering
to my face, one day shortly after my recovery, when to my surprise,
upon the bank of the river I was suddenly met by my brother, whom I
had not seen for several years, nor heard of at all since I returned
to Brittany. I was recognised by him instantly, notwithstanding my
fine apparel; though, to say the truth, the splendour of his own
appearance had almost made me doubt his identity. He embraced me
tenderly; and the questions he asked concerning myself and Madame de
Villardin, as well as the brief account he gave of his late adventure
at sea, and of his having been driven by stress of weather into the
Gironde, where he had little expected to find me, soon disclosed our
relationship to Gaspard, who had often heard me tell tales of my
brother's fierceness and prowess, which did not render the rencontre
very palatable to him. It was even, I confess, somewhat terrific to
myself; and when my brother asked who that gentleman was on whose arm
I was leaning, and boldly concluded that it was my husband, I thought
I should have fainted. Our silence and our confusion soon made him
aware of our relative situation; and, the moment that he became so, he
touched the hilt of his sword slightly with the forefinger of his
right hand, saying, in a tone that was not to be mistaken,' Be so good
as to follow me, sir; that lady will be able to find her way home by
herself; nor shall I have any difficulty in discovering her abode,
after I have done with you.' Gaspard looked down and hesitated,
although his honour as a soldier was concerned; and my brother was
beginning to speak more loudly, and in a tone which might have called
general attention upon us, when my lover replied, 'Have but a moment's
patience, sir, and I think I can give you such an explanation of this
business as will prove satisfactory to you.' He then bade me return
home, whispering that no harm would happen, and left me, while he
walked on with my brother towards the Chartreux.
"I returned immediately to our lodgings, where I remained in very
great anxiety for nearly two hours; but, at the end of that time my
lover and my brother returned, accompanied by a priest, who asked me a
number of questions in regard to my own and Gaspard's freedom from all
ties; and at length being satisfied, accompanied us to a neighbouring
church, and pronounced the nuptial benediction.
"What might have been the consequences had we remained unmarried, I
cannot tell; but, since the ceremony, a rapid, though gradual,
decrease of all sorts of kindness has taken place on the part of my
husband. Rude and brutal usage is now all that I receive from him;
and, though Heaven knows he is in no degree jealous, yet I one day
said a few words, which have made him, during the whole of the last
campaign, drag me about with him from place to place; and never till
the last affair at Virmont, has he suffered me to be out of his sight
for a day together. The fact is, that, wearied with his ill usage, and
seeing that patience and forbearance did nothing to remove it, I
determined to try if I could not influence his fears, and took a
solemn vow in his presence, that, if he did not change his conduct, I
would reveal all I knew to Monsieur de Villardin, of whom he still
stands in great dread. The threat had the effect for some time; but,
not being able to conquer his morose and vindictive temper, he soon
relapsed into greater unkindness than ever; and, to prevent me putting
in execution what I menaced, he will not suffer any of the servants
even to deliver to the couriers a letter, the contents of which he has
not seen. Ever since he has kept me in his sight, treating me with
cruelty and rudeness on all occasions; and even when, by order of the
Prince de Condé, every sort of encumbrance was sent away from the army
at Montargis and Château Renard, he gave me in charge to a party from
his company, with strict orders not to suffer me to pause, or quit the
direct road, till I reached this place, which is the dwelling he
inherited from his father. He it was who prompted me first to
retaliate upon others any pain that was inflicted upon myself; and,
though I certainly should not accuse him, did not other motives
combine to make me reveal all to Monsieur de Villardin, yet in doing
so I but make him reap the fruits of that which he himself has taught.
"You have now three motives assigned you in explanation of my
conduct:--in the first place, my promise to the priest at Bordeaux; in
the next place, the sincere desire of clearing every shadow away from
the character of a virtuous lady, whom I wronged and traduced; and, in
the third place, my determination to punish a man who ill treats me,
and whom," she added, with set teeth and a flashing eye, "and whom I
hate from the bottom of my heart. I have another motive," she
proceeded, after giving way to this burst of passion--"I have another
motive, too, but it I will not tell to any one. This, however, I
solemnly declare, as I hope for salvation, that very motive involves
more than any other thing the desire of truly serving Monsieur de
Villardin, and of doing that for which he himself hereafter may bless
me. Now are you satisfied?"
"I am," I replied, "and will certainly undertake the task, if ever I
recover; but, to put the matter beyond all doubt in the mind of
Monsieur de Villardin, to-morrow you must give me a note to him, under
your own hand, desiring him to believe fully all that I shall tell him
in regard to your conduct towards Madame de Villardin."
"Not to-morrow!" she said, "not to-morrow! This very night, or it will
be too late. I will write it in a moment:" and she left me abruptly to
execute what she proposed.
CHAPTER XXVI.
In a few minutes Suzette returned, and gave me a billet, signed with
her name, in the course of which she prayed Monsieur de Villardin to
believe all that I should tell him in regard to his unhappy wife. She
seemed anxious now to leave me, and to drop the conversation; but I
detained her for a short time, to explain to me how and where she had
found me on the night that I had received my wound; and she was in the
act of telling me, hurriedly, that it was by mere accident, when steps
sounded in the saloon which opened into my apartment, and she started
up with evident marks of alarm.
Her apprehensions were not without cause, for she had not time to quit
the room, ere Gaspard de Belleville entered, booted and spurred as he
had dismounted, and after giving a glance towards my bed, which
evidently showed him who it was that had been the object of his wife's
care, he struck the unhappy woman a blow with his open hand that made
her reel, asking her how she dared to bring one of the enemy within
his doors.
I was in no condition to offer her any protection, but a person who
had followed Gaspard into the apartment, though he did not very
decidedly resent the blow, interposed to prevent another, and, taking
her by the hand, he led her weeping to the door, saying, at the same
time, "Come, come, Monsieur de Belleville, you must not strike a
woman, and that woman my sister!"
As soon as he had led Suzette out of the room, her brother returned,
and approaching her husband--who stood gazing upon me in sullen
silence, from which I augured no very hospitable treatment--he turned
his face full upon me also, when, not a little to my surprise, I
recognised in Suzette's brother my old acquaintance, Captain Hubert,
of whose achievements in the forest I had been a witness, and nearly a
victim.
He was, evidently, not much slower in his recognition than myself, and
although I had given him sufficient proofs of my discretion in regard
to one of his professions, yet the exclamation of "Diable!" which
broke from him before he was aware, showed me that he did not yet feel
safe, and would willingly have avoided any fresh rencontre with such
an inconvenient acquaintance.
The prospects which my situation afforded were certainly not very
consolatory at that moment. There I lay, incapable of offering
resistance or of attempting escape, in the presence of two men, one of
whom hated me with a good old inveterate enmity, which was quite
sufficiently mature to bear fruits of as bitter a--kind as heart could
desire; while the other knew his life and reputation to be in my power
the moment that I issued forth from those walls. I had also enjoyed
the means of learning by experience that neither of these worthy
personages were very scrupulous as to their actions; and, certainly,
if ever I calculated fully and seriously upon having my throat cut in
cold blood, it was at that moment.
I took good care, however, not to make the matter quite certain by
claiming any acquaintance with Captain Hubert, while at the same time
I resolved to treat Gaspard de Belleville, whom I looked upon, after
all, as the worst of the two, in the same manner that I would have
treated any other officer in the service of the Prince de Condé.
"Monsieur de Belleville," I said, after having given him plenty of
time to speak, without his uttering one word, "I claim your protection
and hospitality, as an officer and a gentleman; and I beg, also, that
you will have the goodness, if the armies are in this vicinity, to
send a trumpet to Monsieur de Villardin, or to Monsieur de Turenne,
informing either of them that I am a prisoner in your hands, and
requesting them to negotiate my liberation."
The impudence of the request seemed to strike him dumb; and, after
staring at me for a minute longer, with a curling lip and contracted
brow, he turned upon his heel, and taking his brother-in-law by the
arm, walked out of the room without saying one word, shutting and
locking the door behind him.
That I was not numbered with my fathers that very night was probably
owing to two or three circumstances, which, affecting the
brothers-in-law differently, prevented them from doing together what
each separately might have been very desirous of executing. In the
first place, my residence in his house was known to too many people for
Gaspard to put me out of the way without a great chance of discovery;
and it is also probable that he did not at that time know how easy
and unceremonious Suzette's brother was in the disposal of obnoxious
personages. On his part, Captain Hubert had some touch of humanity in
his nature, and though the dislike which every man must feel to living
in a state of apprehension might have made him forget his better
nature, yet, as Gaspard was not aware of all his worthy relative's
former occupations, and it would have been necessary to communicate
them to him, in order to arrange my destruction as a joint enterprise,
there can he no doubt that the Captain was wise in refraining. Indeed,
it is more than probable that he looked upon me at that period as a
safer depositary of his secret than his brother-in-law would have
been; and I think he was right; for no man that I know was more likely
to use an advantage ungenerously than Gaspard de Belleville.
These motives I have only, of course, assigned upon guess; but they
were the fruits of my reflections after I was left alone, and very
much they certainly did console me, as I lay helpless enough in the
house of my bitter enemy, with the door locked upon me, and no means
of making my situation known to any friend in the world. Many a time,
however, did I wish that Suzette had left me where she found me, to
take my chance of death or recovery; but all such wishes were in vain,
and, as the best thing I could do, I banished thought as soon as I
could, and fell asleep, feeling, at the same time, very doubtful as to
what world I should wake in when I next opened my eyes.
No one, however, disturbed my slumber, and I was roused only by the
daylight streaming into my room. I felt myself better and stronger for
my long sleep, and much need, indeed, had I to be so, for after lying
for two or three hours without any one bringing me meat or drink, a
trooper entered my room, and told me that I must get up and dress
myself. It was vain to resist, and therefore I made the attempt; but I
was far too weak to accomplish the task myself; and it was only
with the continual assistance of the soldier, who acted as a
valet-de-chambre, that I was enabled to put on the same torn and
bloody habiliments in which I had been brought thither.
When this unpleasant sort of toilet was completed, the progress of
which had perfectly satisfied my attendant that I was not capable of
walking even across the room, one of the servants was called in, and
between him and the trooper I was carried out through the saloon into
the court-yard, in which a light carriage, with two horses, was
standing ready prepared. Although I was certainly not in the very best
condition for travelling, yet, well knowing that opposition would be
in vain, of course I offered none to the proceedings of those into
whose hands I had fallen; and was speedily lifted into the chaise,
without much ceremony or consideration. Gaspard de Belleville,
however, seemed to think that my companions were showing me too much
lenity, and I heard his voice from an upper window, ordering them, in
no very measured terms, to put me in any how, and, above all things,
to make haste.
As soon as I was finally thrust into the machine, the trooper got in
beside me, the man who had aided to carry me took his seat on the
coach-box, and away we went, at a pace more fitted for a cavalry
regiment at the charge than for the carriage of a wounded man. While
undergoing the operation of being dressed, I had discovered that the
purse which was on my person when I was wounded had, by some fortunate
accident, been suffered to remain in my pocket; but this had been
perceived by my new attendant also, and, though he did not absolutely
transfer the purse at once from my hands to his own, he soon gave me
notice that he intended to make a gradual appropriation of its
contents. Beyond all doubt, Gaspard de Belleville, who could not tell
whether I had any money about me or not, had given the man a
sufficient sum to defray his expenses on the road, and, equally beyond
doubt, as the fellow was evidently a trooper in some regiment of
horse, he was paid for his services as usual. Nevertheless, scarcely
had we proceeded three miles, when he informed me that Monsieur le
Capitaine de Belleville expected me to discharge the score at all the
cabarets where we stopped on the road, and likewise to give him, my
guard and attendant, the reasonable sum of four crowns per diem for
his good company and assistance.
Weak and uncomfortable as I was, this method of proceeding amused me.
An English blackguard would have committed robbery, and taken the
purse without more ado; the Frenchman, however, was more moderate, and
contented himself with cheating me out of the greater part of its
contents. Though the result appeared likely to be much the same, yet
there were conveniences attending the Frenchman's mode of proceeding
of which I did not fail to take advantage; and representing to him
civilly my weak state, and the pain and discomfort which I suffered
from the furious jolting of the carriage, at that quick rate of
progression, I pointed out to him that the more days we were upon the
journey the greater would be the amount of crowns to be given to him;
and, having discovered that his orders were to carry me to Stenay, a
town on the Meuse, belonging to the Prince de Condé, I did not scruple
to assure him that, if he would turn the horses' heads the other way,
and drive to the quarters of Monsieur de Turenne, wherever they might
be, a thousand crowns and a Serjeant's post in my troop should be his
immediate reward.
The man expressed himself highly obliged by my polite offer, as he
termed it, but informed me at the same time that he had three strong
reasons for acting honestly in the present instance, and obeying the
orders he had received. These were, that, in the first place, he would
in all probability be hanged if he went near the quarters of Monsieur
de Turenne, as he had lately come over from his army to that of the
Prince de Condé; in the next place, that the other party, to which he
now belonged, might sooner or later hang him if he again changed
sides; and lastly, that even if he could make up his mind to run all
these risks, the man who was driving had his orders also, and would
not suffer him to deviate from the prescribed route.
I could not help acknowledging that these were all potent reasons,
and, as I saw that it would be in vain to combat their influence on
his mind, I suffered myself to be rolled on towards Stenay, with no
farther discussion than merely what was necessary to induce my
conductors to give me as much repose as possible. My brief
communication with the trooper had, however, established a sort of
friendly intercourse between us, which rendered him extremely civil
during the rest of the journey; and from him I learned that, although
Condé had completely defeated the Maréchal d'Hocquincourt at Blenau,
Turenne had, by the most splendid man[oe]uvres that it is possible to
conceive, arrested the progress of the victorious army with a force of
not one third its number. The Prince had himself turned his steps
towards Paris, and Gaspard de Belleville, as well as several superior
officers, had been left to bring up a number of scattered parties
which had spread over a part of Champagne and the Orleanois, during
the unsteady command of the Dukes of Beaufort and Nemours. He could
tell me nothing, however, in regard to Monsieur de Villardin, his
daughter, or Father Ferdinand, though he had been at no great
distance, he said, from the château of Virmont at the time that it was
fired, which was done, he declared by the command of the Duke of
Nemours, in order to give notice to another division of the army that
the Prince was on his march. Notwithstanding this assurance of my
companion, I could not help thinking, that Gaspard de Belleville had
fully as much to do with the conflagration as the Duke of Nemours.
Five days' journey brought us to Stenay, and in spite of my wounds and
my weakness, thanks to a constitution of iron, and an early hardening
in the fiery furnace of the English civil wars, I was far better at
the end of the time than on the day when we first set out. After being
admitted within the walls of the town, which was not permitted without
manifold challenges and investigations, the carriage drove direct to
the prison, where I was delivered into the hands of a man whose
countenance was certainly as rugged as the stone walls amidst which he
dwelt. Nor can I boast of having found his heart much softer; for,
though the trooper who had accompanied me had recommended me to his
notice, in my hearing, as a _bon garçon_, no sooner were the doors
closed upon me, than a course of ill usage began, which was not
destined to terminate for some time. My purse, rendered meagre by the
frequent demands of the road, was the first thing attacked, and from
that moment vanished entirely. I was then thrust into one of the
dungeons, with a pile of straw for a bed, and a little grated window
of about nine inches square, looking out upon the ramparts, as my only
source of light and air. Bread and water became my diet, and, as the
floor of the dungeon was not particularly dry, it was with no small
difficulty that I kept myself from the effects of the damp.
In reply to all my questions in regard to the authority by which I was
there detained, the gaoler merely told me that I was considered as a
deserter from the army of the Prince de Condé, found fighting against
him, and that I might think myself very well off that I had not been
shot immediately. Although this was evidently a pretext, and I very
well understood that both Gaspard de Belleville and good Captain
Hubert might greatly approve of my detention, yet I could not bring
myself to believe that this state of things could continue long; and
for the first two or three days of my imprisonment I consoled myself
with the expectation of its speedy termination. My health, also, I
must confess, improved greatly under the severe regimen to which I was
subjected, and the healing of my wounds proceeded more rapidly than I
could have at all anticipated. Nevertheless, as day went by after day,
and no relief came, my spirits fell, and my heart, hitherto so buoyant
under all the adversities and changes which I had met with, sunk
oppressed beneath that most horrible of all inflictions, solitary
confinement.
No language can describe in the slightest degree the state of my
feelings in that prison, by the time that ten days had passed over my
head within its walls. The lingering weariness of the moments, the
faint chillness of apprehension, the utter vacuity of each heavy day,
the changeless, unceasing poring of thought upon one subject, the want
of every event, however small, the burning thirst for freedom, and
activity, and change, and the fresh air, and the fair face of
nature--all combined to make a state of existence which was the very
essence of "hope delayed that maketh the heart sick."
Often--often I asked myself, when was this to end, or would it ever
end? Put in there by two men, to one of whom my freedom might be
dangerous, and to the other of whom anything which afflicted me would
be delightful, how could I tell that I might not be kept there for
years. In the state of the country, at that time, no investigation was
ever likely to take place, no one would, in all probability, hear of
my imprisonment, nobody would strive to obtain my release. Monsieur de
Villardin, doubtless, by this time, thought me dead, and I might feel
perfectly sure that neither Gaspard de Belleville nor any of his
household would suffer my situation to be known, so long as they could
by any means conceal it. Such thoughts formed the only occupation for
my mind, while I could neither find nor devise any other exercise for
my limbs than that which could be obtained by traversing in every
different direction a chamber of ten feet square. It is true I could
occasionally hear the steps and voices of people without, passing
along the ramparts; but the little 'window was so high that I could
not amuse myself by the view which it might otherwise have afforded,
and the merry tones of people at large, as the wind brought them to my
ear, seemed but a mockery of my solitude and captivity.
At length, a slight change was afforded me. After I had lingered on in
this manner for some months, the gaoler fell sick, and his wife
brought me the daily loaf and pitcher of water in his place. She was
not the most prepossessing person I ever beheld, it is true, but it is
scarcely possible to describe the pleasure I felt at even seeing a new
face. The joy that I expressed, it seems, melted her heart, and on the
second day of her coming she brought me a meat meal, the first that I
had tasted since I had entered the prison. Anything that was in the
least degree new was, of course, delightful; but this mark of her
kindness induced me to ask for more, and, showing her that it was
perfectly impossible, from the size of the aperture, that I could
escape by the window if I were permitted to reach it, I begged hard
that she would let me have a chair, or a stool, or a table, in order
to amuse myself by looking out. To this she consented, telling me,
however, that she was sure her husband would take it away again, as
soon as ever he was well enough to resume his official duties.
Nevertheless, every day's amusement I looked upon as something gained;
and in a few minutes after, she brought me a large settle, by means of
which I instantly climbed up to the window, and gazed out.
No words can express the delight which the first sight of the world
without afforded me; and yet, strange and absurd as it may seem, this
delight was occasioned by a prospect which did not extend to the space
of two hundred yards in any direction. Underneath me were the
ramparts, and beyond them again, in a straight line, were some other
parts of the fortifications, which bounded my view in that direction:
to the left was a square tower, projecting, I believe, from the body
of the prison; and to the right, at the distance of about a hundred
and fifty yards, were some sheds and houses which had encroached upon
the defences of the place. But it was all something new,--something
different from the black solitude of the dungeon,--something that I
had not seen for months; and, consequently, it was all delightful.
There was nobody to be seen upon the ramparts at the time I first
looked out; but there was a man washing his face at a window of the
house I have mentioned, and a cat creeping along with stealthy pace
from tile to tile of the roof, in order to catch a sparrow that was
perched upon the ridge; and it would seem childish and frivolous thus
to dwell upon the pleasure with which I watched both of these very
ordinary occurrences, did it not give some idea, though a very faint
one, of the dull horror of that situation, compared to which such
sights were the most enchanting visions.
Standing on my settle, I remained there for hours, and could almost
have wept when the sun went down. With the first ray of morning I was
again at my post, and remained there the greater part of that day,
which, from what the gaoler's wife told me in regard to his
convalescence, was the last that I could count upon for that
indulgence. Few people, indeed, passed along the ramparts; but still,
every one that did so afforded me new pleasure. At length, towards
evening, when I had got down for a few moments in order to rest
myself, I caught the sound of several cheerful voices speaking; and,
starting up again to my loop-hole, I soon saw four or five gentlemen
coming round the angle of the projecting tower. They seemed officers
belonging to the garrison; and, as soon as I set eyes upon them, I
determined to endeavour to make my situation known to a party, amongst
whom, as officers and men of honour, I doubted not that I should find
some one to compassionate my situation, and, perhaps, to afford me
relief. Such being my resolution, it will be easy to conceive my joy,
when, as they approached, I perceived, in the person nearest to the
prison, no other than Gourville, whom I had known and acted with in
Paris.
"Monsieur de Gourville," I cried, "Monsieur de Gourville; stay a
moment,--stay a moment, and listen to me, for God's sake!"
I had forgot that he could not see me as well as I could see him; but,
nevertheless, he paused and looked round, exclaiming, "Who called me?"
"It was I; it was Monsieur de Juvigny," I replied, giving myself the
name by which he had known me in Paris; "stay, and speak to me for one
moment."
"But where are you?" cried Gourville, looking up towards the aperture
through which I spoke.
"Here in the prison," replied I; but ere I could add another word, I
found myself suddenly grasped by the arm, and thrown down upon the
floor of the dungeon, with a degree of violence which hurt me much in
the fall, though my head luckily lighted on the straw which composed
my bed. The first object on which my eyes lighted after my compelled
descent, was the grim and unshaved face of the gaoler, which, however,
showed me, without further explanation, that my voice had been
overheard by his jealous and watchful ear. He deigned no observation,
but a few curses pretty equally divided between myself and his wife;
and, snatching up the settle, he turned away from the dungeon and
locked the door.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Although this was a sad and bitter disappointment to me, yet I could
not help still entertaining a hope that I had made my situation
sufficiently known to Gourville to urge him at least towards farther
inquiries; and with that thought I consoled myself for the rest of the
evening. No one came, however; and, when the next day rose and set
without the appearance of my acquaintance, I began again to give
myself up to despair, the more dark for the ray of light that had
broken in upon me for a time.
The sun rose and set, I have said; and, sitting down upon the straw
which had been given me for my bed, I covered my eyes with my hands,
and could have wept; but the very fountain of tears seemed dried up;
and I could only brood over my situation with a sort of gloomy horror,
which I do believe would have ended in depriving me of my faculties:
but, about an hour after nightfall, the bolts and bars of the dungeon
began to move, and I started up with joy; for the hour was not one at
which the gaoler ever visited the cell: and the slightest change in
the usual current of events seemed to speak of hope. As soon as the
door was opened, a light broke in from the turnkey's lantern, and
his own face was the first thing I beheld; but the moment after,
I perceived another figure behind; and, to my inexpressible
satisfaction, saw, as soon as my eyes were a little more accustomed
to the light, that it was Gourville himself.
He embraced me most kindly; and, ordering the gaoler to leave us, in a
tone of authority which was instantly obeyed, he surveyed me from head
to foot by the light of the lantern, which the man had set down on the
floor of the dungeon ere he departed. My imprisonment and all its
consequences had not improved my appearance particularly; and I saw a
slight smile pass over Gourville's countenance as he made his
examination, and contrasted, I dare say, in his mind, the object that
now met his eyes with the gay lad who had visited him in Paris several
years before. He suppressed all signs of merriment, however, for fear
of giving me pain; and then made me recount all the adventures which
had brought me into that situation. In my narrative, I certainly did
not spare Gaspard de Belleville: but Gourville shook his head, saying,
that my enemy enjoyed a considerable share of favour with the Prince
de Condé.
"Nevertheless," he continued, "beyond all doubt your liberation must
and will take place as soon as it is communicated to the Prince. Sorry
I am that I have not the power of ordering you to be set free at once;
but as I depart for Paris early to-morrow, I will take care that his
Highness shall immediately know the treatment you have received. In
the meanwhile that treatment shall instantly be changed in some
degree, for I have authority enough for that at least, and you shall
have every comfort that ever exists in a prison. A little money, too,
is not a useless thing in any situation. Here, take my purse, my young
friend, you can pay me when we meet again."
I assured him that if I were permitted to write to Monsieur de
Villardin I should soon receive sufficient supplies, and, therefore,
that I needed not to take advantage of his liberal offer, if he could
obtain for me that permission. He replied, that he would take care
that no obstruction should thenceforward be thrown in the way of my
writing to whom I liked; but at the same time he pressed the loan of
his purse upon me, saying, that I might want it before I could receive
any reply to my letters. After some farther conversation, which he,
who well knew what imprisonment is, took care to make as cheerful as
possible, he summoned the gaoler, and after rebuking him sternly for
the treatment he had shown to an officer of the King, he ordered him
to let me have everything which could make me comfortable, consistent
with my safe custody, and especially both to furnish me with materials
for writing, and to give the letters which I did write to the post
with his own hands. By the gaoler's humble tone it was very evident
that he well knew the influence which Gourville possessed with the
Prince de Condé; and as soon as my kind friend had left me, he made
a thousand excuses for his former harshness, telling me that he had
but obeyed the orders of those who brought me thither.
A great change in my situation was the first result of Gourville's
visit: I was removed to a warm and dry chamber, from which I could see
over the whole country round. Good food, books, and writing materials
were allowed me; and my gaoler, now become civil and complacent
enough, purchased for me, with part of the money which Gourville had
lent, various articles of clothing, of which I had long stood in need,
and for which he did not charge me much more than double the value. My
first care was to write to Monsieur de Villardin, and the gaoler
undertook to see the epistle despatched; but certain it is the letter
never reached its destination; and whether it remained for ever within
the walls of the prison at Stenay, or lost itself when it got out into
the wide world, I cannot tell. It mattered but little, however; for,
eight days after Gourville had left me, I was visited by one of the
officers of the garrison, who informed me that he had received orders
from the Prince de Condé to conduct me to Paris, and that if I had no
objection, he proposed setting out the next day. I assured him that
nothing on earth would give me greater pleasure; and a little after
day-break I had to thank God for seeing the gates of that accursed
prison thrown open to give me egress. The officer and his party were
waiting me in the street, with one led horse for myself, and another
for my baggage; but as all the clothes I had were those which the
gaoler had purchased for me, they were easily so arranged as to go on
the horse that carried myself, and the other was consequently sent
back. During the last week I had been permitted to walk every day in
the court of the prison, and had, in consequence, regained, in a great
degree, the use of my limbs; but still I was very much fatigued when I
arrived at the end of our first day's journey. The officer who
conducted or guarded me was a very quiet, civil personage, and as we
rode along, he told me that he was ordered to require my parole not to
attempt an escape, and then to give me every sort of liberty.
My parole was, of course, willingly given, and after a slow, and, as
it appeared to me, a tedious march, we arrived in Paris just three
days after the battle of the Faubourg St. Antoine. We had nearly, it
is true, been cut off by a body of royalist cavalry, who passed us in
the neighbourhood of Charonne; but it is probable that, never dreaming
a party attached to the Prince de Condé would show itself on that side
of the town so immediately after his defeat, they took us for some of
their own partisans. At all events, they passed within a hundred yards
of our little troop; and their commander even shouted a good morrow to
the officer at our head, which, on his part, was returned with great
courtesy. Such was the method in which war was carried on in those
days.
On our entrance into Paris we found the whole town in one universal
gabble concerning the battle of St. Antoine. Distiches, sarcasms, and
epigrams were flying in every direction; and the gay tone and witty
repartee of each Parisian, from whom we even inquired our way, would
but little have led a stranger to conclude that within three days an
engagement had taken place at the very gates of the town, in which
4000 or 5000 men had been killed, and some of the noblest and bravest
gentlemen of France had left their bodies on the field. Still less,
indeed, did the gaiety and good humour, which were observable amongst
the people, indicate, in any degree, the fierce and sanguinary
passions which were soon to be called into action; and we rode on
through the streets, amidst a crowd of as merry faces as ever I
remember to have seen.
Although we inquired repeatedly, no one could tell us anything certain
concerning the Prince de Condé. Some said that he was even then in the
town; some said he was with his army, encamped without the walls, just
beyond the Faubourg St. Victor; some said that he had gone to effect
his junction with the Spanish force; and the officer, whose orders
were merely to join him, thought it best to proceed to the Hôtel de
Ville, in order to gain further information. It is not impossible,
indeed, that the vicinity of a famous sutling-house, known to every _bon
vivant_ in the army, at the corner of the _Rue de la Mortellerie_ might
be an inducement to my conductor, and, at all events, certain it is
that he directed his steps to the sutler's in the very first instance.
Here, however, he learned that the Prince was, at that very moment, in
the Hôtel de Ville itself; and, after taking care to refresh his men
and himself with the choicest stores of the sutler's larder, he left
me at the house on the strength of my parole, and proceeded to seek
the Prince for the purpose of obtaining further orders. As I remained
in the high room in which we had dined, and had nothing else to occupy
my attention, I amused myself by gazing out of the window upon the
various groups that were now thronging into the open space before the
Town-house. It was a hot, sultry day in July; and all the crowds of
Parisians, who, like butterflies, come forth whenever the sun shines,
were filling the streets, and all seemed to me pouring on in one
direction. The masses in the Place de l'Hôtel de Ville became every
moment more and more dense, so that it was difficult at length for
those whose business called them to the Town-house, to make their way
thither. A number of petty affrays took place, in consequence of the
endeavours made by several individuals to force their passage through
the crowd; and a spirit of riot began to manifest itself, which it was
not difficult to divine would end in more serious disorders. I
remarked about this time, that almost every one I saw in the crowd had
one or two wheat straws stuck into his hat or cap; the greater part
also appeared armed, and I could not help anticipating very unpleasant
results from the assemblage of such a number of the lower classes at a
moment of general excitement and licence. After a time, however, the
people seemed to become more quiet; and, before long, I saw the Prince
de Condé, with a number of other noblemen and gentlemen, come out of
the Hôtel de Ville, and ride away amidst the acclamations of the
populace.
I now expected the return of the officer every moment, but
nevertheless he did not appear; and, still gazing forth upon the dark
masses of the multitude, fluctuating hither and thither like the waves
of a troubled sea, I soon after beheld a party of gentlemen, preceded
by a royal trumpet, enter the Place de Grève, and endeavour to make
their way through the people. At the head of this little body I at
once recognised Monsieur de Villardin, riding beside a gentleman whom
I did not know, but who, I found afterwards, was the Maréchal de
L'Hôpital. With much difficulty they gained the steps of the
Town-house, amidst the execrations and insults of the people; and
every moment, while waiting the return of a messenger whom they sent
into the building, they were exposed both to danger and offence. At
length, when, as it appeared, the order for giving them admittance was
returned, and they dismounted from their horses and entered the doors,
a general rush of the people took place, apparently for the purpose of
enveloping and massacring the King's officers, though they had come
with a flag of truce. The doors, however, were closed promptly upon
them; but the fury of the populace now passed all hounds: yells, more
like the cries of demons than those of human beings, issued from the
multitude; the signal for strife was given by the discharge of a
musket; and while a number, who had possessed themselves of firelocks,
kept up a scattered fire at the windows of the Hôtel de Ville, I saw a
large body rush away towards the quay, from which they returned in a
few minutes, bearing bundles of the fire wood which was there piled up
for sale. Before any measures could be taken to prevent them, a mass
of these faggots, between six and seven feet in height, was heaped up
against the great door, some lighted embers were procured from a
neighbouring house, and in a moment the whole was in a blase.
It was now evident that the purpose of the multitude was to massacre
all those that were within the Hôtel de Ville; and the cries of "Death
to them all!" "Down with the Mazarines!" "Spare not the traitors!"
"Take none to mercy!" which rose up in deafening shouts as the people
continued firing in at the windows of the Town-house, and piling up
fresh logs of wood upon the fire before the door, convinced me that,
if something could not be done to save him, the life of Monsieur de
Villardin would be lost within ten minutes. The guards, indeed, within
the building, fired a few shots from time to time upon the people, but
their number was too few to offer any serious resistance, and the
efforts that they did make only served to irritate their assailants to
a pitch of frenzy.
There was no time for consideration; the life of Monsieur de Villardin
depended on the turning of a die; and running down the stairs as hard
as I could, I caught up for a badge of partisanship some straws, which
I found under a pile of cheeses in the kitchen, and rushing forward
towards the door of the Hôtel de Ville, I determined to force my way
into it amongst the very first, in order to take advantage of whatever
opportunity might occur to save the life of my friend. As I pushed on,
elbowing my way through the crowd, one of the rioters, who was armed
with a musket, turned fiercely upon me for disturbing his aim; and he
seemed about to strike me with the butt end of his piece, when a shot
from the windows of the building settled our dispute by going through
his head. He fell forward upon me, but, throwing him off, I snatched
the musket out of his hands, as it could be of no farther service to
him, and might be of great service to me; and thus armed, I soon
forced a passage for myself up to the very door of the building. My
eagerness and haste, though inspired by very different motives from
those which actuated the rest of the crowd, caught the attention and
excited the applause of a number of persons in the multitude, and was
afterwards of great service to me in effecting my object. Lucky it was
that all these circumstances combined to facilitate my advance, for
scarcely had I reached the doors, when they gave way, and fell
thundering and blazing into the entrance hall. A number of those
cooped up within rushed forth, and, plunging into the crowd
endeavoured to effect their escape; while I, darting through the midst
of them, sprang up the stairs towards those spots where Monsieur de
Villardin had been generally found upon former occasions.
He was not in the great hall, however, nor in the grand chamber, where
the Parliament usually assembled, but I found him in one of the
_buvettes_ with Monsieur de L'Hôpital, and a young man whom I had
remarked amongst the most vehement of the rioters without, but who had
outstripped me by passing the shortest way, and was now engaged in
rapid conversation with the Maréchal de L'Hôpital. The moment I rushed
in, with my face covered with the smoke and dirt of the fire which had
been kindled at the gate, and the musket in my hand, Monsieur de
Villardin drew his sword, not recognising a friend in the figure
before him; but as soon as I had entered, I closed the door between
the buvettes and the passage leading to the great chamber, and turning
the key, which I put in my pocket, I thus shut out those who, I knew,
could not be far behind me. By this time the Duke had recognised me,
and was exclaiming, "Good God, De Juvigny! I thought you dead, my dear
lad! How came you here?"
"There is no time to tell you," I replied. "Instantly change part of
your clothes with me, and throw away that scarf, or you will be
murdered directly. If you wish to save that gentleman," I added,
turning to the young man who was speaking with the Maréchal de
L'Hôpital, "make him change his dress."
Monsieur de Villardin had at that moment a fillemot-coloured cloak,
lined with light blue, and light blue plumes in his hat; but without
pausing for any ceremonious consent, I tore the cloak from his
shoulders, and threw over him my own, which, having been purchased by
the gaoler at Stenay, and having passed through a long journey in
July, was neither very fine nor very clean. The blue plumes were next
scattered upon the floor; and as there was a procureur's gown hanging
over one of the benches, I tore off the cord to fasten a few of the
straws which I had assumed as the badge of the popular party into the
front of Monsieur de Villardin's hat. The white scarf was then
disposed of; and as we could hear the shouts of the multitude coming
from the side of the grand chamber, we took our way, as fast as
possible to the small door which led from the buvettes into the outer
hall. Here, however, we were met by a dense mass of the populace,
who instantly assailed us with cries and hootings, and one
fierce-looking savage drew back his pike to run it into my chest; but,
calling him boldly an accursed _Mazarine_, I pointed the firelock at his
head, and would certainly have shot, had he made the slightest
movement. But at that moment one of his companions recognised me as
having shown great activity in the crowd below, and, catching my
adversary by the arm, assured him that it was I who had first proposed
to burn the doors. This honourable reputation, though founded on a
falsehood, gained me instant applause, and knowing that the best means
to manage a mob is to employ it on any mischief, I told the rascals
that some Mazarines in the grand chamber had barricaded the doors of
the buvettes, and leading them back to the one I had myself locked, I
set them to work to demolish it, well assured that they would meet a
party of their friends on the other side.
In the meanwhile, Monsieur de Villardin had been pushing his way on
towards the door; and I found him held at bay by half a dozen of the
rioters, who would have cut his throat within another minute; but, as
I approached, I shouted with the full strength of my voice to bring
sledge-hammers, and, taking him by the arm, asked if he had found
any. He replied, smiling in the midst of the imminent danger which
surrounded him, that he could not even seek them, for that the gentry
before me would not let him pass. Strong in my reputation as a leader
of the tumult, I now set to work to curse them with my whole heart,
asking if they were partisans of the Court and friends of Mazarin; and
bidding them, if they were followers of the Fronde and the Princes,
immediately to seek sledge-hammers, to knock down all the doors. This
seemed so laudable an undertaking in their sight, that, shouting, "Des
marteaux! des marteaux! vite! des marteaux!" they rushed away in
search of hammers, while, seizing Monsieur de Villardin by the arm, I
cried, "Come, come; I know a blacksmith's where we shall find plenty."
And thus boldly taking upon ourselves the character of chief rioters,
we made our way down the stairs and out into the _Place_. Our situation,
however, was still more dangerous here than ever; for a number of the
more coolly bloodthirsty had suffered the violent and the excited to
make their way into the building, while they themselves remained
without, in order to watch their victims as they came forth into the
Place de Grève, and then massacre them without mercy. The cry for
hammers, however, had already spread amongst them, and I found it a
sort of watch-word, which, for a time, obtained a passage--though
that passage was through the warm blood and amongst the quivering
bodies of the unhappy men who had lately tenanted the Town-house.
Just as we were passing through the midst of the Place, one fierce and
brutal wretch had got down the unhappy Ferrand de Vavari, one of the
councillors, and was coolly running a knife into his throat,
notwithstanding all his cries and struggles, with the same reckless
indifference with which a butcher kills a sheep. Starting up as we
passed, the assassin shouted out "More Mazarines! More Mazarines! Why
do you let them go?"
The people made a movement round us; and I saw that there was nothing
for it but decision. Halting abruptly in the midst, I cried, with
every appearance of fury and indignation, that either my voice or
features would take on, "He calls me a Mazarine!--me!--a
Mazarine!--when he knows us both for officers of the Prince de
Condé:--me a Mazarine!" and, without farther ceremony--seeing that
the incarnate fiend, who, most probably, recognised M. de Villardin,
was about to retort upon me--I presented my musket, and, at the same
moment, pulled the trigger. He fell directly; and the people,
convinced by the boldness of the action that I was really a follower
of the Princes, who were then omnipotent amongst them, made way,
shouting, "Vivent les Princes! Vive Condé!"
Without giving time for those who had crowded round my fallen opponent
to become interested in his cause, or to hear anything he might have
to say in case he were only wounded, I hurried forward as fast as
possible, directing my course away from the river, towards which M. de
Villardin seemed inclined to proceed. The fact was, however, that at
the window of one of the houses in that part of the Grève I saw the
head of the Duc de Beaufort backed by the faces of several of his
officers; and, as I did not feel at all sure that he might not point
us out for massacre as we passed, I thought it best to get out of his
sight by the nearest road.
When once we were fairly away from the Place and its immediate
vicinity, where the fury of the people was blind and indiscriminate,
the straw in our hats secured us a free passage, though the streets
were everywhere thronged with rioters; but as Monsieur de Villardin
might each moment be recognised by some one who had known him during
his former residence in Paris, I made the best of my way to the house
of an honest shoemaker, who had served the whole household of the
Duke, and served them well. All the shops were by this time shut up,
for fear of pillage; and long were we obliged to knock before the good
man ventured to open his door and let us in: when he did so, however,
he showed us every sort of kindness, and thanked heaven a thousand
times for the escape of the Duke. Bringing us to a neat upper room,
where we could lie concealed from any one who might enter the lower
part of the house, he pointed out to us the means of escaping over the
roofs should it become necessary; but of this neither Monsieur de
Villardin nor myself entertained the least apprehension; and, while
the good shoemaker went down to provide, as far as possible, for our
comfort and security, we began to breathe more freely than we had done
for some time, and to talk over the adventures of the last few hours.
"A second time I have to thank you for life," said Monsieur de
Villardin, after a few exclamations concerning the sort of insanity
that had seized upon the Parisians--"a second time I have to thank you
for life.--Take care," he added, with a faint smile, "take care! for
you are causing me to accumulate debts which I shall never have the
means of paying. But, tell me, how came you here, and where have you
been for the last three months? Several of your men declared they saw
you killed in attempting to repulse the party who set fire to the
château of Virmont. I need hardly tell you that I and Father Ferdinand
have grieved for you, and Laura has wept for you ever since."
"Thank God for that, at least," I replied: "not for your grieving for
me, my lord, but for the safety of Father Ferdinand and Mademoiselle
de Villardin, in regard to both of whom I have been in a cruel state
of anxiety ever since I last saw them." I then proceeded to detail, as
briefly as possible, all the events that had occurred to me during the
last three months; and I could see that Monsieur de Villardin, while
rejoicing in my escape, was moved with no slight indignation both at
the treatment I had received from Gaspard de Belleville, and at the
fact of his former page having been the person to burn his house to
the ground.
"The villain," he said, "did hot even know that my household and my
child were not still within the building; for their escape was owing
solely to the civility of the officer at the village, who sent up to
warn them that he was about to march, and that other parties were
coming up, who might not be so well disposed towards them as himself.
They took advantage of this information in time, and sought refuge in
one of the cottages in the wood; otherwise they might all have been
burned indiscriminately; for the first act that the enemy's soldiers
were seen to commit was that of throwing a number of grenades into the
open windows, by which means the whole house was fired in a few
minutes. If I live three days longer," he added, after detailing these
particulars, "I will represent the whole of that young villain's
conduct to the Prince de Condé: he must not go any longer unpunished,
whatever may have been my reasons for not dealing severely with him
hitherto."
I knew well that Monsieur de Villardin's indignation would be
infinitely increased when he heard all his other obligations to
Gaspard de Belleville; but, as I had no inclination to irritate him
farther at this time, and, as the tidings that I bore from Suzette,
required to be communicated gently, I determined to reserve them for
another moment. "I will request you, my Lord," I replied, "when you
make your complaint against Gaspard de Belleville, to take the same
opportunity of soliciting my liberation at the hands of the Prince de
Condé; for, of course, as I only came out of the sutler's in order, to
rescue you, I must still consider myself a prisoner upon parole."
"Fear not, fear not, De Juvigny," he replied; "you shall soon be
liberated, either as a favour to myself, or upon ransom; and you shall
find, through my whole life, that I never forget, on any occasion, all
the services with which you have contrived to load me in the short
space of five or six years."
We had still enough subjects of conversation undiscussed to give us
plenty of employment for the rest of the evening, especially as our
thoughts were every now and then diverted to other subjects by reports
brought to us by our worthy host of all that was going on in the city.
From him we soon learned that the Maréchal de L'Hôpital, on whose
account Monsieur de Villardin had felt a good deal of anxiety, was in
a place of safety, having effected his escape from the Hôtel de Ville
by the means of the lad Noblet, whom we had seen speaking with him.
About ten o'clock at night we also received the welcome tidings that
the mob had dispersed, and that large parties of the Garde Bourgeoise
were patrolling the streets in every direction; so that we might
consider the sedition at an end. We remained in our concealment,
however, during the whole of that night; but, early the next morning,
finding that tranquillity was perfectly restored, we ventured out, and
after having seen Monsieur de Villardin on his road to the Court, I
turned my steps, as had been agreed upon between us, towards the camp
of the Prince de Condé, in order to give myself up and redeem my
parole.
On inquiring farther, I found that the army of the Princes was really
on the other side of the river; and crossing over by the Cité, I made
my way on foot towards the open grounds of St. Victor, and the little
river of Biévre, between which and the Seine I soon perceived the
forces of the Prince de Condé intrenched in a position which might be
considered perfectly impregnable, at least against any power that the
Court could bring against it. I gave myself up as a prisoner at the
first outpost, but demanded to be conducted to the Prince himself, if
he were then in the camp. The reply, however, was, that he was still
in Paris, and I was consequently led to his Maître de Camp, who proved
to be an officer to whom I was known, he having served with me during
the siege of Bordeaux, and especially in defence of the demi-lune of
the Porte Digeaux. From him I received every sort of kindness and
attention, till the Prince himself returned to the camp, which did not
take place for several hours. As soon as his arrival was known, I was
conducted to his quarters, and was at once admitted to his presence.
Two lacqueys were pulling off his boots and arranging his dress, while
he was giving a number of orders to those around him, and at the same
time signing two or three papers which different officers presented
for his approval.
"Ha! Monsieur de Juvigny," he cried, as soon as his keen eye fell upon
me, "I am glad to see you--I am glad to see you; but stay a minute
till I have despatched all these affairs. I have a good deal to say to
you, for Gourville has told me all about you."
The minute which the Prince desired me to stay, extended itself to
nearly an hour and a half; for no sooner was one application attended
to, than another was made from a different quarter; and as soon as one
visiter left his presence, another entered.
"There! shut the door," he cried at length, as soon as he found that
we were left alone even for a moment; "let any one who comes wait
without till I am ready for them." The servant to whom he spoke
instantly proceeded to put his commands in execution, and turning to
me, the Prince added, in the brief, frank, perhaps abrupt tone, which
he usually employed, "Well, Monsieur de Juvigny, I have not seen you
since you were playing the garcon apothicaire, in the castle of
Vincennes; and although our scheme did not succeed, and you have now,
it seems, turned against me, yet I am not the less grateful for the
extreme risk which you then ran in endeavouring to serve me. I hear
from everybody the highest character of you. I myself have been a
witness of your courage and dexterity. Such a person is now most
needful to me; and what I wished to say to you is, that if you will
consent to attach yourself to me, you shall find me a firm friend and
an unfailing protector. I will advance you in the service, and
whatever post about my person you will name shall be yours, unless it
be already filled by some old and tried friend."
The offer was not only a very tempting one, but it was difficult to
refuse it without the chance of giving offence--at least those who did
not know the Prince de Condé would have thought so. As it was
perfectly impossible for me to comply, however, feeling, as I did,
that he was absolutely in a state of rebellion against his King, and
that I was even then bearing a commission in that monarch's service, I
answered him boldly and straightforwardly, which I had always found to
be the best way with men of his keen and rapid disposition.
"Nothing I should consider a higher honour, nothing I should feel to
be a greater pleasure than that of serving your Highness," I replied,
"if your Highness' service were compatible with that of the King; but
you must remember, my lord, that I have bound myself by oath to the
cause of his Majesty."
"Pshaw!" cried the Prince de Condé. "In these times no one minds such
oaths as that. Why, there is not an officer in my service that does
not come and go between my camp and the King's a dozen times in the
year; and, in truth, I do not always very well know, when I meet a
friend in the field, whether he is my own partisan for the time or
not."
"All I can reply to your Highness," I answered, "is, that had I joined
your forces I should, of course, have remained with them till war were
over; and, such being my feelings, I am afraid that if I can obtain my
freedom either by ransom or exchange, or the kindness of your
Highness, I must still go back to the camp of the King, and undergo
all the defeats which I doubt not you intend to inflict upon us."
"Think of it better--think of it better," replied the Prince: "your
liberty you certainly shall have; and you shall choose whether you
will take it at my hands, as a full acquittal of all I owe you, for
endeavouring to deliver me from Vincennes, or whether--holding still
your claim upon me for that service, to be discharged by something
more important hereafter--you will pay a light ransom to Master
Gaspard de Belleville, who, to say the truth, is somewhat grasping and
avaricious for so young a man."
Of course I could not hesitate in regard to which I should choose,
and, therefore, I replied at once, "I will endeavour to pay whatever
ransom your Highness may think proper to name, and will give an order
for it instantly to Monsieur de Belleville, though he has no just
right to consider me as his prisoner."
"Nay, nay, not so fast, not so fast!" cried the Prince; "you must take
some little time to think of my proposal. De Belleville is not in the
camp just now, but he will be here to-morrow or the next day. In the
meanwhile, seek out Gourville, whom you will find either with the
army, or at the Hotel de Rochefoucault in Paris. Bid him make much of
you, and treat you well on my account, trying all he can to persuade
you to remain with us. Nay, do not shake your head, but go and think
over it better."
As his last words implied an order to quit him, I immediately took my
leave and withdrew, somewhat mortified at not being able to obtain my
freedom as soon as I had expected, but fully determined not to flinch
from my duty in the slightest degree, however long I might
consequently be detained a prisoner.
Almost immediately after quitting the Prince de Condé, my good fortune
threw me in the way of Gourville, to whom I related all that had just
passed. As far as treating me well, he certainly did follow the
injunctions of his Highness, but in regard to persuading me that it
would be better to join the party of the Princes, he most assuredly
did not do as Condé had directed him. He shook his head at the very
thought, saying, "No, no; let those who are attached to the party
remain attached to it, for if no divisions existed amongst ourselves,
we should do very well, and compel the Court to take what measures we
liked: but it would never do for you, who neither know all the
intrigues that are going on, nor the men that are conducting them; and
besides, the party of the Court is, at all events, the most secure;
for, however long the struggle may be protracted, it will be the
successful side in the end, depend upon it."
By the assistance and attention of Gourville, everything that I could
want was supplied to me; and, by means of some of the bankers in
Paris, I obtained money upon an assignment of my rents in Normandy and
Brittany. My first care was to repay Gourville the sum I had received
from him at Stenay, which, of course, he did not affect to decline. My
next step was to ascertain from him the amount which my liberation was
likely to cost me. To my inquiries on this head, he replied, that he
could hardly tell, but, that when he was in prison at Sedan, it had
cost his friends six thousand livres to obtain his enlargement. This
prospect rather frightened me, as such a sum would nearly exhaust my
whole income for the year, but, of course, I was obliged to make up my
mind to it, and there the matter dropped.
The day following I caught a distant glance of Gaspard de Belleville
riding through the streets of Paris, and I consequently begged
Gourville to represent to the Prince my extreme desire to be set at
liberty. But either he thought it worth while to keep me for a day or
two longer, in order to make me join his party, or he was too deeply
engaged in more important affairs to attend to my request. At all
events, I could obtain no answer, and remained that day and the next,
without hearing anything more upon the subject.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Tired of delay, I at length resolved to apply once more to the Prince
in person, though Gourville shook his head, laughing, and told me that
he could see very plainly that his Highness was determined to keep me
some time longer. About noon, I went out to the camp, but, on arriving
at the door of the house in which the Prince de Condé had taken up his
quarters, and which was the tapestry manufactory, called les Gobelins,
then belonging to a private individual, I was agreeably surprised to
find half a dozen of the grooms and attendants of Monsieur de
Villardin. From them I learned that the Duke had obtained a
safe-conduct the preceding day, and had arrived on a visit to the Prince
about an hour before. In the ante-chamber I found the officer who had
brought me to Paris, and who, informing me that messengers had already
been sent to seek me, directed one of the attendants to let the Prince
know that I had arrived. The next moment I was admitted to his
Highness's presence, and found him seated with Monsieur de Villardin,
while Gaspard de Belleville stood before them with a sullen and
downcast countenance, on which I plainly read the workings of reproof
and correction upon a stubborn and an evil heart. The sound of my step
instantly called upon me a glance from my adversary as quick as
lightning, and full of rage and hatred. Condé, however, took no notice
of my approach, and continued the interrogation of his officer, which
had previously commenced.
"Pray, sir," he said, "how came you to fire the château at all, when
the general order was given to keep silence, and conduct the advance
with as much secrecy as possible?"
"I caused the house to be burned, your Highness, by order of the Duke
of Nemours," replied Gaspard.
"But the Duke tells me," rejoined the Prince, "that the order was
given at your suggestion. How was that, sir? speak!"
"My reason for proposing it, my lord," replied the officer, "was, that
I thought the regiment of Latour might miss its way without some
signal from us; and by that time the Englishman there had discovered
our march and lighted a beacon on the hill."
"For which your Highness owes him no great thanks," said Monsieur de
Villardin, with a smile: "for the tidings we received from him enabled
us to keep you in check the next day."
"He did his duty, and he did it well, my good friend," answered the
Prince; "I would to God that my officers would do the same. As for
you, sir," he continued, addressing Gaspard de Belleville, "it is
quite sufficiently evident that your motives were not the best in
burning the château of Virmont, and still more evident, that your
conduct towards your prisoner afterwards was unworthy and ungenerous.
In regard to the first, you have certainly taken care to shelter
yourself under an order from the Duke of Nemours; but as you suggested
that order, I shall dismiss you from every post about my person,
though you keep your company. In regard to the treatment of your
prisoner, of which Monsieur de Villardin has explained to me the
cause, I can, of course, only reprove you for conduct unbecoming a
French gentleman. There is no military law which enables me to punish
such behaviour, except, indeed, by reducing the ransom which may be
demanded for him, and which I fix at 400 crowns."
Of course Gaspard de Belleville dared not reply to the severe terms of
the Prince; but I saw his eye glare from my face to that of Monsieur
de Villardin, with an expression which would have boded neither of us
any good had his means of injuring us been equal to his desire of
doing so. Monsieur de Villardin declared that he would pay my ransom
himself, and immediately gave an order for the sum, which Condé
delivered into the hands of my adversary, and bade him retire.
"I am obliged," said the Prince, in a sort of apologetic tone, as soon
as we were left without other witnesses--"I am obliged to suffer these
fellows to make as much of their trade as they can, or a great number
of them would leave me. In other respects, the system of taking
ransoms, which, thank God, is becoming less common, is by no means one
I like. But, however, I have suffered you to escape at a cheap rate,
Monsieur de Juvigny," he added, turning towards me, "and as I find you
are determined not to stay with me, I suppose I must even let you go."
As these words might be considered as a hint that our audience was at
an end, Monsieur de Villardin rose, and we took our leave, the Prince
laying his hand familiarly upon my arm as we were departing, and
saying, in a kind tone, "I shall not forget Vincennes."
Without suffering me to return to Paris, Monsieur de Villardin made
one of his servants give me up a horse, and we rode together at once
to St. Denis, where the Court was then assembled. I now found that
some interest had been excited concerning my fate amongst persons whom
I had scarcely imagined to be acquainted with my existence. To
Monsieur de Turenne, to the Queen, to the young King, and to the
Cardinal, I was presented once more by Monsieur de Villardin, on the
occasion of my liberation, and I found that--each had something to say
to me upon my late adventures. Turenne told me, in his simple manner,
that he was very much obliged to me for thinking of the beacons, as
the speedy information communicated to him of the march of the Prince
de Condé had most likely saved the royal army at Briare. The Queen
said that she remembered seeing me at Poitiers, and added, that a long
imprisonment must be a more beneficial thing than was generally
supposed, as my appearance was very much improved.
The Cardinal said something, with a strong Italian accent; I saw that
it was intended to be witty and pointed, and though I did not very
well understand it, I smiled, which did quite as well. The young King
thanked me gracefully for my services and attachment to his cause, and
added, "I trust that means will occur, ere long, of rewarding your
exertions and compensating your sufferings in our cause."
All this promised well for my future success in life; and though at
that time my ambition was cooped within very narrow limits, I must own
that I felt a good deal of joy at the prospect of rising to some
station where I might distinguish myself in the profession of arms.
The pleasure, however, of being free, and of meeting applause where I
most desired it, was, indeed, a little alloyed by the necessity of
communicating to Monsieur de Villardin the confession--for such, in
fact, it was--of Suzette. I knew not what effect it might ultimately
have upon his mind, whether good or bad--whether the knowledge of
having injured an innocent and virtuous woman who had loved him
dearly, and was passionately loved by him, might not send the sting of
remorse still deeper into his heart--especially if the fearful
suspicions which I entertained were just; or, whether, on the other
hand, the discovery that he had been worked upon and deceived by
designing people and an artful scheme, that he had been cheated into
all the acts he had committed, and almost driven mad himself by a plot
which he could hardly have divined, might not take away some portion
of the responsibility which now weighed so heavy upon him, and cast a
part of the load of culpability upon other shoulders. At all events, I
knew that the very renewal of a subject which had never been mentioned
for several years, would reawaken a world of painful memories, some of
which I trusted now slept; and I shrunk from the task I had
undertaken, hoping from day to day that something would occur to
render its execution less difficult. Monsieur de Villardin, however,
seemed also to avoid the topic altogether; and although he knew that I
had seen Suzette several times, and must in his own mind have
connected her name with the memory of his unhappy wife, yet he never
mentioned the circumstance after our arrival at St. Denis, and seemed
purposely to turn from any reference to Gaspard de Belleville and his
wife. The matter was thus rendered more difficult to me; and, as I
could not but remark that the gloom which I have before noticed, had
taken a deeper hold of Monsieur de Villardin than ever--as, the moment
that any active exertion was over, all energy seemed to abandon his
mind, and as it pained me to think of increasing the deep and bitter
melancholy in which he passed all his solitary hours, I still, as I
have said, put off the task from day to day, till at length the army
was ordered to march, and I had scarcely time to attend to anything
else than the military duties in which I was now employed.
On my return to the regiment, I found that the troop which I commanded
before my imprisonment had been nearly annihilated by the cross fire
into which I had so rashly led them at Virmont. Not above twenty men,
indeed, had escaped of those of whom it was originally composed.
Monsieur de Villardin, however, had recruited it by the addition of
about forty more; and, while we stayed at St. Denis, I did all that I
could to gain volunteers. Thus, when we marched for Compiegne, the
troop amounted to about eighty men; but, I must confess, that it was
altogether in a much better state than when I had left it, for the
number of marches, skirmishes, and man[oe]uvres, which it had since
taken part in under the command of Turenne, had done far more to
render the men expert, veteran, and well-disciplined, than all the
drilling we could give them before.
It was very necessary, indeed, that our troops should be of the best
quality, for, at this time, with less than ten thousand men, we had to
make head against the Spanish army and the Duke of Loraine on the
frontiers of Flanders, while the force of the Princes was in our
rear--not sufficiently powerful, indeed, to meet us in the open field,
but quite sufficiently so to render any check that we might receive
from the superior numbers of the Spaniards utterly fatal to the royal
cause.
It is unnecessary to relate the events that immediately succeeded, for
there are few people in the present day who are not well acquainted
with the skilful man[oe]uvres by which Turenne, without striking a
stroke, compelled the Spanish army to evacuate the French territory;
and it would be only wearisome in this place to detail the means which
he employed to arrive at such a fortunate result. This having been
effected, however, we returned to Gonesse, in order to watch the
movements of the Prince de Condé, who remained in the neighbourhood of
Paris for the purpose of keeping his party in the capital from the
ruin with which it was continually threatened by the dissensions of
the leaders.
We were soon again in activity; for the Duke of Loraine, having once
more entered France with a force of sixteen thousand men, marched
forward, on the side of Champagne, to effect his junction with the
Prince dc Condé. At the same time, that Prince decamped from under the
walls of Paris to meet him, while Turenne hastened to pass the Marne
at Lagni, and advanced with extraordinary rapidity upon Brie Comte
Robert, where we first encountered the troops of the Duke of Loraine.
Finding that we were not strong enough to contest that post with him,
we turned, and hastened towards Villeneuve St. George, but here again
the troops of Loraine were before us, the town in their possession,
and the bridge, as well as the heights which command it, already
occupied by two companies of infantry and four pieces of artillery.
For the purpose of proceeding with greater speed, our own infantry and
artillery had both been left to follow; and when he first discovered
that this post also was in possession of the enemy, Turenne had only
with him three regiments of cavalry. We had all halted, while the
Maréchal rode forward to ascertain the facts with his own eyes, but,
in a minute or two after, he cantered back to the head of Monsieur de
Villardin's regiment, and spoke a few words to him in a kindly and
smiling manner; and, as I was not far off, I heard him say, in reply
to something which the Duke had observed, "Oh, no, my friend, one
troop can dislodge them; and then, with our fresh forces, we can keep
possession of the ground till the artillery comes up."
What Monsieur de Villardin replied, I did not hear; but Turenne
immediately answered, "We will give him the opportunity, at all
events;" and I instantly received an order to draw out from the little
wood that covered us, and charge the company that occupied the
heights. An injunction was added not to follow the enemy too far, but
to satisfy myself with dislodging them from their present post.
I found no difficulty in executing these commands. The enemy reserved
their fire till we were within about fifty yards, and then received us
with a general discharge. Half a dozen men and horses went over at
once; but we were by this time in the very heat of the charge, and not
one man who was capable of going forward tightened his rein. The
enemy, who had expected to see us waver, took fright at our approach,
and, after a very faint resistance, were driven down the hill with
considerable slaughter. Their guns and ammunition were left behind;
and when, after some difficulty, I could halt my men and bring them
back to the heights, I found the ground already occupied by Monsieur
de Turenne, and the cannon which we had taken turned against the
bridge.
The Duke of Loraine, however, not being aware that our infantry and
artillery had been left behind, imagined that Turenne occupied the
heights in force, and, knowing the town to be untenable under such
circumstances, instantly decamped, and took post upon the Seine, about
a league farther up. No more skirmishing therefore occurred; and,
without being obliged to fire upon either the bridge or the town, we
remained in tranquil possession of our position till the rest of the
forces came up, and rendered it completely secure.
Monsieur de Turenne made no observation at the moment upon the manner
in which I had executed his commands, nor did I expect him to do so,
for I knew that I had not performed my duty ill, but yet felt quite
conscious that I had done no more than my duty. Towards six o'clock in
the evening, however, I was called to his tent, and found him just
concluding a despatch, giving notice to the Court of the different
man[oe]uvres that had taken place. As soon as I entered, he looked up,
with one of his calm, intelligent smiles, saying merely, "You
performed so well what I commanded you this morning, that I am going
to send you away from me. You must carry this despatch to Pontoise, or
to whatever other town his Majesty may now be in; and I doubt not that
he will appreciate the services of an officer, who does gallantly and
skilfully that which he is commanded, without overstepping the line
that is prescribed to him." A number of superior officers were present
at the moment; and it may be well conceived that such words from such
a man made my cheek glow with unexpected pleasure.
Monsieur de Villardin, who was also in the tent, followed me out, and
told me that, while my horses were preparing, he would write a brief
note to his cousin, Monsieur le Tellier, one of the King's ministers,
who might teach me how to turn to some account the favourable terms in
which Monsieur de Turenne had mentioned me in his despatch. As speed
is in all these cases a great object, and the first bearer of good
tidings is always likely to be better received than those who follow
after, I neither spared myself nor my horses till I reached Pontoise,
which I accomplished, without the slightest interruption, in the
course of the following day.
Great was the joy which my arrival spread; for neither King, nor
Queen, nor ministers, had felt themselves at all easy under the
prospect of a junction between the Prince de Condé and the Duke of
Loraine in the immediate vicinity of Paris; and, as Turenne now gave
them the most positive assurance that he would be able to keep both
those generals in check, for at least a month, while the Court
negotiated with the Parisians, and raised new troops, it may be
conceived that his despatch proved a very agreeable relief to the
minds of all. It luckily so happened, also, that one of the persons
most interested in the tidings which I brought was precisely in the
situation which best enabled him to make my journey as satisfactory to
myself as it had proved to him. Cardinal Mazarin, having by this time
been forced once more to quit France, had left his whole interest in
the hands of his friend, Monsieur le Tellier; and that minister, who
knew that the first reverse on the part of the Court would induce the
Parliament to pronounce the Cardinal's banishment eternal, was perhaps
more overjoyed than any one at the tidings that I brought. I found him
out immediately after my arrival, and communicated the intelligence to
him before he had received it from any other person. At the very first
intelligence, he took me in his arms, and hugged me, as if I had been
his own son; and then, making me sit down to dinner with him, at which
meal he had been engaged when I entered, he asked me a multitude of
questions, seeking evidently a confirmation of the hopes which
Monsieur de Turenne had held out.
I anticipated no immediate reward, however; and as I was very anxious
to see the rest of the campaign, I determined to depart the next day
or the one following, if I could obtain leave to do so; and,
therefore, on the morning after my arrival, I again visited the
minister, in order to request that he would solicit for me the King's
permission to that effect. Without making me any reply, he took me by
the hand, and led me, followed by a secretary with his portfolio, to
the presence of the young monarch and his mother, who were listening
to some news from Paris, not quite so agreeable in their nature as my
tidings had proved.
"This young gentleman, sire," said Monsieur le Tellier, "is all
eagerness to return to the camp, in order to serve your Majesty in the
field, but I think you said that you had some commands for him ere his
departure?"
"You are right," replied the monarch; "are the letters drawn up?"
Le Tellier instantly took a parchment from the portfolio which was
carried by his secretary, and placed it in the hands of the young
King, who ran his eye hastily over it. Louis then addressed me, in a
tone and manner so dignified and kinglike, that I could not but
perceive that a great change had wrought itself in his mind since I
was first presented to him at Saumur; though I little anticipated at
the time that the alteration which I marked would go on progressively
but rapidly, till the careless and somewhat indolent boy became the
greatest monarch of his age.
"Monsieur de Juvigny," he said, "we are informed by the Maréchal de
Turenne, that, when we held our court at Gien, by the prompt and
skilful measures which your own judgment suggested, for conveying
immediate information to our generals of the advance of the Prince de
Condé, you saved us all from very imminent danger. He also informs us,
in his despatch received yesterday, that you have again highly
distinguished yourself in dislodging a superior body of the enemy from
the heights above Villeneuve St. George, and he recommends you
strongly to our notice and favour. We ourselves have not forgotten
that you have once been severely wounded, and have suffered a long and
cruel imprisonment for your attachment to our cause, and your
opposition to the rebels now in arms against us. Monsieur le Tellier,
also, upon the authority of Monsieur de Villardin, informs us that in
your native country your father and mother were both of gentle blood;
but, at all events, it is the prerogative of royalty to ennoble, and
therefore it is, that we have caused these letters to be drawn up, not
only for the purpose of expressing our thanks to you for the services
you have performed, but also as a proof to all others that no one ever
will serve us without meeting due honour and recompence."
He then gave me the parchment that he had received from Le Tellier;
and, though I knew not what it contained, I bent my knee and kissed
his Majesty's hand, with every token of gratitude. I then withdrew, in
company with the minister, who, as soon as we were in another
apartment, bade me open the letters and read the contents. I did so
immediately, and found that the parchment contained letters patent,
conferring on me the rank and title of Baron de Juvigny; and adding
what seemed to me the more solid recompence, of a pension of three
thousand crowns per annum, chargeable upon the receipts of the duchy
of Brittany, "till such time--," so the letters ran, "till such time
as his Majesty thought fit to assign me an estate of equal value."
Monsieur le Tellier laid his left hand upon my shoulder as I read,
and, pointing with his right to the words concerning the pension, he
repeated, "Three thousand crowns!--that is, when you can get them, my
young friend;" and laughing gaily, he added, "which will not be till
the country is quiet, and these rebels put down. So go, and do your
best against them; and God send that we may soon be delivered from
their company altogether!"
"Amen!" replied I; and I doubt not that Monsieur le Tellier devoutly
believed that it was the prospect of my three thousand crowns which
gave such fervency to my aspirations; but it was perhaps that I was
heartily tired of civil wars, having seen little else ever since I was
born; and I certainly did long to be in one good stricken field,
between nations of different tongues and dwelling-places, if it were
but for a change. I said nothing, however, to undeceive the minister;
but taking my leave, with many thanks for honours and rewards, which I
felt very sure had been obtained for me fully as much by interest as
by merit, I withdrew with the letters patent of a barony in my pocket,
but very little else besides.
CHAPTER XXIX.
It was with great difficulty that I made my way back to the army, for
by this time Condé had effected his junction with the Duke of Loraine,
and Turenne had encamped between Limei and the Yeres river, resting on
the Seine on one side and on a thick wood on the other. The enemy's
force, amounting to three times his own, straitened the marshal's camp
in every direction; and, shut in the angle formed by the confluence of
the Seine and the Yeres, there seemed no possibility of escape for
Turenne and his army. I know not to the present day if this position
was or was not taken up through an oversight on the part of Turenne;
and I am rather inclined to think it was, as at the time there were
not provisions in the camp for four days, and the horses were almost
entirely without forage; but if it was a fault, it was one of those
glorious ones which sometimes to a man of genius prove more
advantageous than the best laid plan. The result is well known.
Turenne planted himself there between the enemy and Paris, threw
bridges across the Seine, opened a communication with the neighbouring
country, obtained provisions and forage notwithstanding all the
efforts of his adversaries to prevent him, and kept a force of treble
the number of his own army at bay during six weeks.
It was about the fourth day after the camp was formed that I returned
from the Court; but as the whole open country was at that time in the
hands of the enemy, I had very nearly been taken by a strong party on
the return from foraging. Strange to say, also, I had well nigh again
fallen into the hands of Gaspard de Belleville, who commanded the
escort, having been at one time within two hundred yards of him.
Nothing but my horse's speed saved me; for being close pursued by some
cravates attached to the foragers, I was obliged to swim the river,
which, however, was done with ease, and I found myself in security on
the other bank.
Monsieur de Villardin welcomed me with every sign of joy, and
immediately asked what Monsieur le Tellier had done for me. He smiled
when I told him, saying that he had hoped the Court would have shown
me some more substantial mark of favour.
"However," he added, "the King no doubt gave you the barony, which
costs nothing but parchment and wax, because he had nothing else to
give. As to the pension of three thousand crowns, as I know there has
not been such a sum in the royal treasury for many months, you must
not calculate upon that."
On examining our camp, I found that Monsieur de Villardin, who kept
the open field, though some of the officers had been fortunate enough
to obtain quarters in the little hamlets, had caused his tent to be
divided into four small apartments, of which he assigned me one; and
as our time passed very dully without any event of importance to
occupy our attention, I had no excuse even to myself for delaying
longer the communication which I had promised Suzette to make. The
Duke behaved to me not only as a father, but as a kind and
affectionate one; and whenever we were not engaged in some military
duty, we were either sitting together in the division of the tent
which he called his saloon, or walking along the banks of the rivers,
mingling various subjects of conversation with observations upon the
enemy's movements, of which we caught a sight from time to time. I
thus had plenty of opportunities for telling my tale, had I been able
to make up my mind to do so; but the more my affection for Monsieur de
Villardin increased, the more proofs, of tenderness and regard he gave
me, the less willing I became to wring his heart by all the long
details of so painful a theme.
Thus again I let day after day slip by, till one morning, as we were
walking slowly along towards Château Ablon, which Turenne had taken
some time before by a coup de main, the Duke afforded me himself an
opportunity of introducing the subject, which I felt must not be
longer neglected, if I ever intended to perform my task.
"Do you know, De Juvigny," he said, addressing me by the name which he
always now gave me, "I have taken a sort of thirst lately to see my
little Laura. She will be a good deal changed by this time since I
last saw her. Did you not think," he added, in a sort of under tone,
"did you not think that she was growing very like her mother?"
"I think she was, my lord," I replied; "and God grant that she may
have both her mother's virtues and her mother's beauty!"
"Without her sorrows," said Monsieur de Villardin, in the same low
tone, raising his eyes towards the sky, and adding, what from the
moving of his lips I thought a prayer. "Without her sorrows," he again
repeated, louder, "and, oh! without any of her father's faults."
"Forgive me, my lord," I said, feeling that now was the moment, if
ever, "forgive me if I do a bold thing, and attempt to offer you
consolation upon your private sorrows."
He shook his head with a bitter and melancholy smile, replying,
"Consolation, my dear boy, is in vain. I have sought it in every
source--religion--philosophy--time--activity--danger; and I have never
found it. It is the alchemist's elixir of life, a specious name, which
can only be believed by those who have never tried it."
"Nevertheless, my lord," I persevered in saying, "I think you may find
consolation in some facts which I have to tell you; especially if, as
your words just now implied, a part of your grief proceeds from the
memory of some faults which you imagine to have existed in your
conduct towards your deceased lady."
"All! all!" said the Duke; "all proceeds from those fatal memories;
and I am afraid, De Juvigny, that you can in no degree assuage the
burning of a heart, whose thoughts you cannot see."
"Still I must entreat you to listen to me," I rejoined; "for a man can
scarcely be considered guilty, for having committed actions which he
was urged on to perform by the basest conspiracy to deceive him and to
mislead his better judgment; and when such evidence was adduced to
make him think the innocent guilty, as might well create suspicion
against an angel of heaven."
My words at once showed him that I had something more to communicate
than mere ordinary topics of ineffectual consolation, which fall upon
the dull ear, but never reach the heart; and he soon became more eager
to hear than I was to tell. Turning round quickly, he paused, and
gazed at me as if he would have searched my very soul, to gather at
once what I was about to relate; and then exclaimed, "Speak! speak!
speak, young man!" in a tone and with a manner that almost made me
fear the effect which Suzette's confession might have upon his reason.
I pointed, however, to the sentinels close by, who were gazing with
some sort of wonder at his vehemence; and recovering command over
himself, he walked on with me, with his eyes bent upon the ground,
while I proceeded in a low and calm voice, in order that the tidings I
had to give might be fully understood, without irritating his
imagination by all the adjuncts of emphasis and gesture.
"You remember, my lord," I said, "that I told you, when we were
together in Paris, on the day of the massacre at the Hôtel de Ville,
that I had been saved and well treated by Suzette, who is now the wife
of Gaspard de Belleville. I told you, too, that he behaves to her in
the most brutal manner; but I have not found an opportunity of telling
you, till this moment, that she related to me the whole scheme by
which she and her base husband contrived to deceive you and render you
miserable. From a feeling, partly of remorse, partly, I believe, of
hatred to her present tyrant, and partly in consequence of a vow which
she made to her confessor, she charged me to detail the whole to you,
word for word, and she gave me this billet, in order to make you yield
full credit to the whole I have to tell. I have preserved that billet
through everything," I added, putting it into his hands, "though I do
not think you would have doubted my word even had I not possessed it."
Monsieur de Villardin took it eagerly out of my hand, and read it over
with a straining eye; but instantly turning to me, he exclaimed, "It
tells me nothing--speak on! speak on! I would believe you of course
without that--speak on!"
He had become deadly pale, however; and I paused, apprehensive of more
painful consequences if I proceeded, saying, "Had I not better wait,
my lord, till you are more calm? The subject is too painful to you.
Had I not better wait?"
"Perhaps you had," replied Monsieur de Villardin, who felt how much he
was shaken; "perhaps you had. I will soon recover from this, my dear
boy; and when I can lend my rational senses to the consideration of
what you have to tell me, instead of my passions, which are now
engaged, I will tell you--perhaps to-night. Now give me your arm:" and
with a slow step he turned back to his tent, where, shutting himself
up in the inner division, he remained for some time alone.
At night, however, after returning from some other occupation, I found
him much more calm; for the constant struggles he had long been
obliged to maintain against his own feelings had given him the power
of quelling their most turbulent efforts, after a short space given to
reflection.
"Now, De Juvigny," he said, almost as I entered the tent, "now I am
capable of listening to your tidings, whatever they may be; so speak
on--I can hear you like a rational being now."
As I saw that he was really prepared, I proceeded more boldly, and
related to him, word for word, as far as my memory served me, the
account which had been given to me by Suzette. This I was permitted to
do uninterrupted, for, with his head leaning upon his arm, and his
hand shading his eyes, he listened, without question or comment of any
kind whatsoever, till I had finished all that I had to say. Even for
some minutes afterwards he remained still buried in deep thought,
though the words, "Fiends!--incarnate fiends!" which once or twice
broke from his lips, showed that his mind was busy with the tale of
deceit and villany which I had just related.
"You have, indeed," he said at length, "given me consolation; or,
perhaps, as I had better call it, you have afforded to me the means of
palliating, to my own mind, the errors that I have committed. I had
but one palliation before--the consciousness," and he lowered his
voice as he spoke, "the consciousness of having acted under mental
aberration. It was consolatory to me to know that I had been a madman;
and now," he continued, with a bitter smile, "it is still more
consolatory to me to know that I was a fool--a gross and egregious
fool! What must be the state of a man's heart when such convictions
can be such a relief!"
"I think, my lord," I replied, willing to do all that I could to
soften the sting, "I think that any one might have been deceived by
such a base and deep-laid scheme as that by which you were betrayed."
"Nay, nay," he added, "I was a fool, a consummate fool, in everything,
and in none less than in thinking that my feelings, and my designs,
and my weaknesses, were all hidden within my own bosom, when they seem
to have been as plain to yourself and to those two false and cruel
wretches as they were to the eyes of Heaven. Do not strive to persuade
me that I was not blind and foolish. It is, I tell you, it is a
consolation to me to know that I was so. Deep, eternal, everlasting
regret will still continue my portion throughout life. Every unkind
word, every harsh look, every ungenerous and cruel action, with which
I afflicted the heart of her who is now a saint in heaven, will rise
up night after night, and day after day, before my memory, and render
the sky that overhangs me and the world around dark and gloomy for
ever. Each action, each look, each word, each smile of her who is now
no more, will be remembered with sad and inconsolable regret; but,
nevertheless, that I was myself deceived--that my own wild and mad
suspicions were not all--that I was fooled and played upon, and made
to act a part my better nature disavows--this, this, I acknowledge,
presses part of the poison out of the wound, and softens the sting of
remorse. I thank you for your tidings, De Juvigny," he added, laying
his hand kindly upon my arm, "I thank you from my very heart. Your
voice always brings me comfort, and your arm always renders me
service."
He paused for a moment or two again, and then asked me one or two
questions concerning Suzette, to which I replied as clearly, but as
briefly, as I could, for I thought it better to change the painful
subject for some other as fast as possible, and, having administered
the medicine, to let time work out its effect in silence. He seemed,
however, to take a pleasure himself in dwelling upon the theme, now
that it had once been spoken of between us. "Her whole story," he
added, alluding to Suzette, "is so minutely consistent with every
circumstance which I remember, that I cannot doubt it in the least. To
confess one weakness more, I acknowledge that it is no small comfort
to my mind to find every circumstance that deceived me, susceptible of
a clear and satisfactory explanation; to see every cloud of doubt
wafted away from the remembrance of one who now will live for ever
enshrined in my heart, not the less loved, not the less adored, that
bitter sorrow for her fate, and deep contrition for my faults, embalm
her memory, and wash her tomb with tears."
I was delighted to find that what I told produced such an effect; for,
to say the truth, I had been like an unskilful physician, and knew not
at the time that I administered it, whether the cup which I had
presented to Monsieur de Villardin would prove a poison or an
antidote. It had evidently become the latter, and I doubted not that
every hour which passed would increase its power. I saw, too, that, in
some degree, Suzette had shrewdly divined the true state of Monsieur
de Villardin's feelings; and that, however much he might be convinced
before that he had deeply wronged his wife, his mind would never have
rested satisfied till all the mysterious circumstances, which at first
aroused his suspicions, had been explained as clearly as they were at
present. From the first effect of the tidings I had given, I was led
to expect more beneficial results than they afterwards produced.
Monsieur de Villardin certainly was calmer from that day forward; the
sting of remorse was, as he had said, softened; a part of the load was
off his head, but still the deep and bitter melancholy continued. I
could see a slight difference--a shade less in the darkness of the
gloom that oppressed him, but that was all. He was not so often found
sitting alone, immersed in sad and frowning thought. I saw him more
frequently with a book in his hand; and events of less importance than
heretofore would rouse him into activity and exertion. Yet he was
never what can be called cheerful; despondency remained the general
character of his mind, and he still seemed to find that relief in
moments of danger and excitement, which showed that calm thought was
little less painful than heretofore.
Three weeks of almost perfect inactivity, however, succeeded, and,
with the exception of an occasional unimportant skirmish with the
enemy, we passed our time in idleness in the camp. In the meanwhile,
events were in preparation, which were destined to change the aspect
of political affairs. A schism had taken place between the Prince de
Condé and the leaders of the Fronde: the Duke of Nemours had been
killed by his brother-in-law, the Duke of Beaufort, in a duel; the
Parisians were gradually becoming heartily sick of turbulence and
faction, which they found only served--as turbulence and faction
always do--to promote the views of a few intriguing individuals at the
sacrifice of commerce, industry, and the public good; and the Court,
negotiating with all parties, had by this time obtained such a
preponderance, that it seemed likely to be received with open arms in
Paris, if the army of Turenne could, by any means, be extricated from
its present position, and brought nearer to the capital.
At length an express order arrived for Turenne to endeavour, on the
very first favourable opportunity, to decamp and join the Court; and
that great general--knowing that his movements were no longer watched
by the keen eye of Condé, who had gone back in person to Paris, in the
belief that the royal army could not escape--determined to attempt his
retreat at once. On the morning of the fourth of October, orders were
sent to the officer who commanded in the town of Corbeil, to raise
some redoubts on the heights near that place, and bridges having been
thrown across the river, we waited till night, and then began our
march in silence. We hastened on as fast as possible till we got
between the Seine and the forest of Senard, when, both our flanks
being covered, we could advance in security. From this point we
proceeded more slowly, still looking out, however, for our enemy, who
never appeared; and, to tell the truth, we might have marched in any
direction we liked, for we had arrived at Corbeil, and were safe in
our new position long before the Duke of Loraine even perceived that
we had quitted our former camp. A longer and more difficult march,
however, was before us, for we had now to join the Court at Mantes,
and to cross a great extent of country in presence of an infinitely
superior force. Whether the Duke of Loraine was deceived in regard to
our movements, or whether he did not choose to act in the absence of
the Prince de Condé, I cannot tell; but certain it is that we were
suffered to proceed without interruption, and arrived in the
neighbourhood of Senlis without having to fire a shot.
The presence of the army and the safety of its troops were not the
greatest advantages which the Court derived from this extraordinary
retreat. The mismanagement of the Duke of Loraine, and the absence of
the Prince de Condé from his army, at a moment when his presence was
so much required, ruined entirely the already sinking reputation of
the faction opposed to the Court. The Parisians, who had long begun to
hate it, now added contempt to detestation; and we heard at Mantes
that Condé himself had been actually hooted in the streets of the
capital, before he quitted it to rejoin his troops. Tremendous
autumnal rains had now succeeded: both provisions and forage had by
this time been exhausted in the neighbourhood of the Prince's camp;
and, after one of the most inglorious campaigns that he ever made,
Condé found himself obliged to retreat upon Laon, passing within a few
miles of our forces at Senlis.
All was now joy and satisfaction for the moment; but, as neither
officers nor men had received any pay for a considerable time, it
became probable that, should the expectations which they entertained
of receiving their arrears from the Court be disappointed, they would
speedily drop away and leave the King without the means of defence.
Under these circumstances, it became absolutely necessary that the
Court should venture to return to the capital; but it was not without
long discussions and persuasions that Turenne induced the Queen and
her ministers to comply. At the time that this was proposed, Monsieur
de Villardin and myself had just reached Mantes; and, for a day or
two, all was uncertainty and confusion, different reports spreading
through the town every hour--now that we were to set off directly--now
that the Queen had positively refused to trust herself in Paris--now
that we were to wait for messengers from the capital ere any plan
could be finally adopted.
At length, however, the order to prepare for the journey was given;
and, shortly after, the King, the Queen, the ministers, with a long
train of ladies and gentlemen, set out in carriages which had once
been splendid, but were so no longer, while guards, officers,
attendants, and courtiers on horseback, made up a procession of nearly
a mile in length.
In this order we reached St. Germains, when again uncertainty seized
upon all our movements; and for three days I do not think any one had
the slightest idea whether the next day would see us on our road
forward to Paris or back to Mantes. The bolder counsels of Turenne,
however, prevailed; and on the fourth day we once more began our
march, with the addition of a great number of the inhabitants of St.
Germains on foot, who swelled the cortege without increasing its
splendour; for, to say the truth, such was the poverty of the Court
and all about it, such was the difficulty which every nobleman
experienced in procuring remittances from his estates, however near or
however distant, and such was the battered and travel-soiled equipage
of all the officers and military followers, that it was very difficult
to say which was the shabbiest in appearance, the rabble of carriages,
of horsemen, or of pedestrians. We wound on, however, towards the
capital, contrary to the opinion of many who were obliged to form part
of the cavalcade, till we arrived within a few miles of Paris; but, in
the midst of the _Bois de Boulogne_, we were met by a party of
cavaliers from the city, who came up at full gallop, and calling to
the front horsemen to stop, approached respectfully to the side of the
Queen's carriage. They now besought her Majesty and the ministers to
think well what they were doing before they brought the young King
into the capital; they represented in strong terms the troubled state
of the city, and they assured their hearers that the Duke of Orleans,
who had been declared by the Parliament Lieutenant-General of the
kingdom, was actually arranging a plan for seizing upon the monarch's
person, and causing a general revolt in the metropolis.
Of course such tidings spread terror and dismay amongst the greater
part of those who formed the royal procession; but upon examination it
was found, that the messengers who bore this threatening
intelligence--several of whom were known--might be reasonably suspected,
as belonging generally to the party of the Fronde, which had everything
to apprehend from the reception of the Court in Paris. Nevertheless,
the risk was certainly great.
An instant order was now given for the procession to halt, and for all
persons, except the ministers and a few of the general officers, to
withdraw to a certain distance from the royal carriage. This was
immediately done, and the Queen held a sort of council in the midst of
the _Bois de Boulogne_. I heard afterwards that the voices of all,
generals and ministers alike, with the exception of Turenne and
Monsieur de Villardin, were given in favour of an immediate return to
St. Germains. Those two officers, however, so strongly exposed all the
weakness and folly of such a step, that the Queen herself and the
young King both declared their resolution to proceed, suspecting, what
I believe really was the case, that the augurs of evil, by whom we had
been joined, had been sent out on purpose to terrify the Court, if
possible, and prevent it from taking a step which would be ruinous to
the party of the Fronde.
As soon as this was decided, we once more commenced our march, and ere
long were within sight of the gates of Paris. An immense multitude of
all ages, classes, and descriptions, were at that very moment
streaming forth from the city; and I could see, as I rode along, more
than one anxious face protruded from the carriages, to examine the
crowd which we were now rapidly approaching. I dare say that the
memory of the massacre at the Hôtel de Ville was at that very
moment strong in the minds of all. We advanced with apparent boldness,
however, into the very midst of the crowd. Several stragglers, it
seems, had found their way forward, and had informed the people that
an attempt had been made to prevent the King from entering Paris, but
that he had determined to trust himself in the hands of his subjects.
Nevertheless, for a moment or two, as we came up, there was a dead
silence, which, I confess, appeared to me somewhat ominous, till the
royal carriage was in the heart of a multitude, consisting of
certainly not less than a hundred thousand persons: but, at that
instant, a loud and universal shout of "Vive le Roi!" burst from
every tongue, and doubt and apprehension were all at an end for ever.
CHAPTER XXX.
Never, perhaps, had turbulence and disorder worked its own cure more
completely than in Paris. The general ruin which had overtaken every
sort of art and trade, had disgusted all those classes, which in times
of tranquillity are so potent to do good, and in times of disturbance
are so potent to do evil; and they who had been the foremost in
supporting faction, were now the loudest in their outcry for general
submission. Unhappily, nations almost always pass from one extreme to
the other; and now yielding too much to the royal authority, where
they had before conceded too little, the parliament again verified
every edict of the crown, and the people only murmured that the
Parliament pretended to deliberate in obeying the will of the King. In
one word, the faction of the Fronde was at an end, and though a
general indemnity was granted to all who submitted within fifteen
days, yet the rebel leaders were banished from the capital, and the
Cardinal de Retz, the chief mover of every tumult and every intrigue,
was arrested in the ante-chamber of the Queen, and confined in the
castle of Vincennes.
The greater part of these scenes, however, passed after I had quitted
Paris; for, two days subsequent to the return of the Court to the
capital, I once more followed Monsieur de Villardin to the camp.
Turenne soon again joined the army, but his forces were now placed
upon a different footing from that on which they had hitherto stood.
New regiments joined us each day, those that were already collected
were speedily recruited, and in taking the field to force the Prince
de Condé to evacuate France, Turenne found himself at the head of a
superior, rather than an inferior force.
Through the whole of the events that succeeded I continued to serve in
the regiment of Monsieur de Villardin, but nothing of any interest
occurred in my private history till the end of the campaign, when,
after the capture of Bar le Duc, Château Porcien, and Vervins, Turenne
dispersed his army in winter quarters, and returned to Paris with the
greater part of his officers.
Monsieur de Villardin now at once took up his abode in his hotel in
the capital, which had escaped all the outrages that had occurred,
although not a few of the best houses in the town had been pillaged at
one time or another during the civil wars. His intention was to remain
for two or three weeks in Paris, and then proceed to Dumont, to which
place, as I before said, Mademoiselle de Villardin and Father
Ferdinand had been sent after the burning of the château of Virmont.
Ere we had been in the capital three days, however, a messenger
arrived from Brittany, bearing the sad tidings that Laura had been
attacked by a violent fever, which left but little hope of her life.
We were preparing to go out in the evening when Monsieur de Villardin
received the letter communicating this bitter intelligence, and
clasping his hands together with agitation he could not master, he
exclaimed, "She will die! Of course, she will die! It is a part of my
punishment!"
I tried to raise his hopes, but in vain; and as the next best thing
was to force him into activity, I proposed that we should instantly
set out for Dumont. He caught eagerly at the idea, and as we could not
depart without permission, which was not to be obtained till the next
morning, a servant was despatched as an avant-courier, both to order
relays of horses to be ready at certain hours upon the road, and give
notice of our coming at the château.
As soon as the royal leave was obtained the next morning, we mounted
our horses and began our journey. No time was lost upon the road, and
in a very short space, considering the distance, we arrived at the
spot which had been the scene of so many painful events. It was lucky,
perhaps, that Monsieur de Villardin had other matter of deep interest
to occupy his mind, and call it from all the associations with which
the place was connected; yet, though eagerness to hear whether his
child was yet in life was certainly predominant, I could see plainly
that his whole frame was shaken, and his very soul moved as we rode
through the park to the château.
The sound of our horses' feet had brought Father Ferdinand to the
terrace; and there was a bland smile upon his lip, which told us at
once that he had good tidings in store for our welcome.
"She is better, my brother; she is better," he said, taking Monsieur
de Villardin's hand as he dismounted. "I trust that all danger is
over."
"Thank God!" cried the Duke, and without staying to ask more, he
strode on towards his daughter's apartments. I looked after him with
no small feelings of interest, and, to tell the truth, I would fain
have accompanied him to see the dear little girl who had twined
herself round my heart by so many strange ties. As I gazed, however,
towards the great staircase, down which from a high window the sun was
shining so strongly as almost to dazzle my eyes, I suddenly thought I
saw a beautiful boy of four or five years of age cross the end of the
staircase and disappear in the passages beyond.
Father Ferdinand was standing beside me, asking me a number of kindly
questions concerning myself and Monsieur de Villardin, and I turned to
him with some surprise as the boy passed across; but he seemed to have
seen nothing; and, doubting my senses, I answered his questions
without taking any farther notice, quite sure that if such a being as
I fancied I had beheld was in the château, I should soon see him
again. I had many a question to ask in return; and he repaid the
account I gave of all my adventures, by a fuller detail of what had
occurred at Virmont than I had yet received, and by a sketch of the
quiet life he had been passing at Dumont with his young charge, of
whom he spoke in terms of the most unmingled affection and tenderness.
In about an hour the good priest was called to Monsieur de Villardin;
and, although I was somewhat fatigued, I proceeded to visit all my old
haunts about the house, with feelings which, I suppose, every one must
have experienced on returning, after a long absence, to scenes in
which events of deep and lasting interest had taken place. Everything,
however, was exactly as I had left it; the very furniture seemed
standing in the same places; and, as I went from room to room, nothing
would have told me that I had been absent more than five days, instead
of five years, from Dumont, except the many changes in my own bosom,
which formed a strange contrast with the unaltered situation of
everything around me.
As almost all the old servants had accompanied us to Virmont, it was
not so long since I had seen them; but I was glad to find that even
the time I had been absent had only served to make them welcome my
return with the greater pleasure, and, from the kind and yet
respectful manner in which they crowded round me, and inquired after
my health and happiness, I could almost have fancied myself the young
heir returning to his father's house, after some long and perilous
expedition. My old friend, Jerome, seemed particularly delighted, and
related, with tears in his eyes, how all the household had been
affected when they heard that I had been killed on the terrace at
Virmont.
In reply to my questions concerning his nephew, he informed me, with
joy and pride, that good Jacques Marlot had fully justified me in
saving him from the gallows, and had made a happy transition from the
state of an indifferent printer to that of a steady, wealthy,
respectable farmer. He would be delighted to see me, he added, and to
show me all the thriving children with which the good-tempered
brunette he had taken to his bosom had blessed his fireside since last
I saw him. Promising to go down and pay him a visit the next day, I
left the good old man, and returned to the library, intending to wait
there for Monsieur de Villardin. I found him there, however, already;
and, as he was in conversation with Father Ferdinand, I was
immediately about to withdraw, when he beckoned me into the room,
saying, with a smile, "A fair lady has been asking for you, De
Juvigny, and will not be satisfied till you pay her a visit. Your
playfellow has not forgotten you, I can assure you."
I expressed, of course, how delighted I should be to see her; and the
Duke immediately led me up to Laura's apartments, where I found her
stretched upon a sofa, a good deal changed, it is true, and pale and
languid from the illness she had lately undergone. She was still,
however, a lively, sweet girl of little more than twelve years old,
and, with the same affectionate familiarity in which we had always
lived, she put her arms round me whenever I approached, and kissed my
cheek as I bent over her.
Monsieur de Villardin smiled. "You see, Laura," he said, "as I told
you, he has grown a great man since you saw him, and you must now call
him Monsieur le Baron de Juvigny."
"No, no," replied she, half angrily; "he shall never be anything but
John Hall with me--the same John Hall who saved my life, and who saved
your life, papa."
"He has saved it again, my dear child," replied Monsieur de Villardin,
"and conferred many another benefit on me, besides."
"Thank you, thank you!" cried she, holding out her hand to me; "and
pray always do be near papa, and take care of him; for you know I have
no one else to love in the world but him, and you, and good Father
Ferdinand, now that mamma is dead."
Monsieur de Villardin burst into tears, and quitted the apartment,
while our good friend Lise, who had now become Mademoiselle de
Villardin's chief attendant, chid her for mentioning her mother to
Monsieur de Villardin, saying, "You know, Mademoiselle Laura, he is so
grieved for her that it is painful for him even to hear her named."
"So am I grieved for her," replied Laura; "yet I always love to think
of her, and hope that I shall never forget her."
After speaking a few words of greeting to Lise, and a few more to
Mademoiselle de Villardin, seeing that she was far too weak to bear
much conversation, I left her, and, retiring to my own apartments, lay
down to rest.
The next morning early I set out to visit good Jacques Marlot, taking
the intendant's house by the way, as I had full three years' arrears
of rents to receive from him, and it had become necessary for me to
put my own little establishment upon rather a better footing than
it had been during the war. One of the soldiers of Monsieur de
Villardin's regiment had served me for both groom and valet-de-chambre;
and, as I now looked upon myself as a very wealthy and prosperous
personage, I had resolved that my horses at least should have the
advantage of a personal attendant, though I required one but
little myself.
I found the intendant quite ready to settle accounts with me, though,
in his cool, shrewd manner, he cited a good many deductions, which
were to be made from the gross sum that I had to receive. Some of
which I suffered to pass, but some of which I contested successfully,
and, by so doing, raised myself, I am convinced, several steps higher
in the opinion of the intendant, who thought the acmé of human
judgment and discretion consisted in the nice calculation of livres,
_parisis_ and _tournois_. From his dwelling I proceeded immediately to
my own house of Juvigny, which I found so much improved under the care
and taste of good Jacques Marlot, that I could not help blessing my
stars for having sent me such a tenant, although he paid no rent for
the dwelling. I soon after found, however, that in addition to the
farm of the good Ursulines, which he continued to manage with great
care, he rented from his wife's uncle, the intendant, my farm of
Juvigny also, which was prospering in a remarkable degree; and, in
fact, the affairs of good Jacques Marlot seemed to have taken a turn
at the gallows' foot, and to have gone on in constant success ever
since.
The servant who had been sent on to Dumont before Monsieur de
Villardin and myself, had, amongst other pieces of news, communicated
to the whole household my new dignity as Baron de Juvigny, and, as
soon as Jacques Marlot beheld me, he made me a lowly reverence, in
compliment to my new dignity, though with the solemnity which pervaded
his salutation there was mixed a certain touch of droll humour, which
showed that he had not quite forgot the John Marston Hall whom he had
formerly known. Laughing at the _Monseigneur_ with which he addressed
me, I told him to wait a few years, and, if my fortunes went on as
prosperously as they had begun, he should have cause to give me that
epithet. After the first salutations, he led me into his dwelling, and
I found Madame Marlot settled down completely into a pretty bustling
farmer's wife, skilled in poultry and butter, and all the particulars
appertaining to her calling, while three rosy children, in gradual
ascent from the infant in arms to the red-cheeked riotous boy,
afforded sufficient employment to all her leisure time.
This seemed the extent of her family; but before I had been ten
minutes in the house, I heard a step running across the room above,
and, the moment after, the same beautiful boy, of whom I had caught a
momentary glance at the château, burst into the room, and stood gazing
at me with some surprise.
"What! another! Mon cher philosophe," I cried; "what, four since I
left you?"
"No, no," replied Jacques Marlot, laughing, "that is no son of mine,
though he could not be a better boy if he were. He is the child of a
poor gentleman who was killed in the late wars, and whom we have to
take care of."
There was something in the poor boy's fate so similar to my own, that,
though Jacques Marlot did not enter into further details at that time,
I could not but feel interested in him; and, perhaps--for there are, I
believe, few people on whom personal appearance has no effect--I might
be somewhat influenced, too, by his fine countenance and noble mien,
which were extraordinary in a child of his age. Calling him to me, I
set him on my knee, and was soon high in his good graces. He admired
the tassels of my cloak, played with the hilt of my sword, and was
speedily in a full career of questions, which, with childish rapidity,
he scarcely waited to hear answered. I found afterwards from Jacques
Marlot that both his father and mother were dead, and that he had none
but some very distant relations living in one of the far provinces of
France. Everything I saw and everything I heard of him increased the
interest I felt, more and more; and at length, remarking that he had
acquired a strong Breton accent, I asked the ci-devant printer how
he, who knew better, could suffer the child to speak such a patois,
adding, "You had better give him to me, and let me make him my page."
"Are you serious?" demanded Jacques Marlot: "if you are, I dare say
the matter might easily be managed; but, of course, I must have the
consent of his friends."
Although I had no idea, at the time that I did make the proposal, that
there was any chance of its being accepted, and although the boy was
in reality too young to be of any service to me as a page, yet, the
having once said it, together, perhaps, with a slight touch of romance
in my own disposition, and a real interest in the poor boy's
situation, made me adhere to my offer; and, after saying that I was
serious, I asked who the boy's friends were, and what was their real
station in life.
"Oh! as to his rank," replied Jacques Marlot, "he is of as noble blood
as any in the land, though poor enough, I believe; but, however, as it
was Father Ferdinand, the good confessor at the château, who put him
under my care, I must, of course, speak with him before I can consent
to anything."
Whenever he mentioned the name of Father Ferdinand, it struck me that
there was a likeness between the boy and the priest, which might have
made me suspect some nearer relationship between them than a vow of
celibacy would well have admitted, had not the character of Father
Ferdinand been of that pure and simple cast, severe upon himself, yet
lenient to others, which set all suspicion at defiance.
"I will speak with the good father myself," I said: "what is your
name, my boy?"
"Clement de la Marke," he replied.
"And will you go and be my page?" I asked.
"Yes, that I will," he answered, "if you will let me come and see
maître Jacques and the ladies of St. Ursula, whom he takes me to
visit."
"Ay, and who kiss you and give you sweetmeats, too, Clement," added
the good farmer. "You see, he knows how to make conditions already,
Monsieur le Baron."
"He is very right," replied I, rising to depart: "but, however, I will
speak with Father Ferdinand, and if he consent, he shall come up and
be my page at the château."
"Oh! I shall be so glad of that," cried the boy; "for then I shall see
Mademoiselle Laura every day, and they told me yesterday that I should
not see her again for a long time."
I took upon me to promise that, in this desire at least, he should be
gratified, and, mounting my horse, after some further conversation
with maître Jacques, I rode back fully resolved to speak with Father
Ferdinand upon the subject of the boy; and, if he consented on his
part, and Monsieur de Villardin had no objection, to take little
Clement, and breed him up for a soldier, as I had been bred up myself.
However, as I rode on, my romance cooled a little. I recollected that
I had seen the child but twice, and that the good father might well
accuse me of boyish romance, and treat my request as the offspring of
a mere idle whim; and, feeling somewhat ashamed to speak to him upon
the subject, I let the day pass without doing so. The next morning,
accusing myself of irresolution, I descended early, intending to make
the proposal. On going to the confessor's apartments, however, I found
that he was out, and when he returned, about an hour afterwards, he
came himself to seek me. He then told me that, on going down to the
convent, on the other side of the water, he had met Jacques Marlot,
who had informed him of my offer.
"I will take two days, my son," he said, "to consider of what you
propose; but you must fully understand the boy's situation before you
take upon yourself what I conceive to be a heavy responsibility. You
must remember that his family is noble, and I must also tell you,
that, though he does not possess at present above three thousand
livres a year, to pay all his expenses, yet on the death of some
distant relations, there is a probability of his succeeding to a very
large estate. His education, therefore, must fit him for a change of
station, while it may be as well not to let him know that such an
event is even possible."
"In regard to his education, my good father," I replied, "all I can
give him, I am afraid, will be a military one; but, as I trust that
you and I will never again be separated so long as we have lately
been, you must take upon you to supply all that which I am incompetent
to afford."
"Willingly, willingly," replied Father Ferdinand; "and I think, upon
those conditions, there can be no other difficulty; yet, still, I
should like to consider of the matter for at least two days; and, in
the meanwhile, you can ask Monsieur de Villardin's approbation of
these arrangements."
"Oh, I am sure he will consent," replied I, "if you, on your part,
have power to consent for young Clement de la Marke, which I suppose
you have," I added, with a smile, "for he is so like you, that
there must be some relationship."
"It is very extraordinary," replied Father Ferdinand, "but there
certainly is a likeness strong enough to be visible to my own eyes;
and yet he has nearer relations than myself living, to whom his
resemblance is not so great."
Two days after this conversation, I informed Father Ferdinand
that Monsieur de Villardin had consented to my making any
arrangement of the kind that I liked. He, on his part, signified his
full approbation, and, on the subsequent evening, little Clement de la
Marke was removed to the château. So engaging were his manners, and so
amiable his disposition, that though Monsieur de Villardin smiled at
the diminutive size of my page, I myself remained very well satisfied
with the transaction; and, fortunately, soon after I procured a burly
Breton as a groom, who made up in size for all that little Clement
wanted.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The convalescence of Laura de Villardin proceeded rapidly, and she was
soon able to take the air in the huge lumbering coach of those times,
which was a very different sort of machine from the gay and gilded
equipages of the present day. I was always selected to carry her from
her couch to the carriage; and no one suspecting that our feelings
would ever become dangerous to our own peace, our childish partiality
only excited a smile on the part of Monsieur de Villardin, and was the
source of no small pleasure to ourselves. As she acquired strength, it
was decided by her physician that exercise on horseback would complete
her recovery; and I sought and obtained the task both of breaking a
horse for her service and teaching her to ride. She was then as sweet
a girl as ever I beheld, and each day was adding new graces to her
person and to her mind. Her heart was as gentle and as kind as that of
Madame de Villardin, and she had a degree of the same graceful
playfulness, which I had observed in her mother when first I saw her,
mingled with the deeper and more intense feelings, which--misguided
and abused--had been the cause of misery in her father's bosom.
The hours fled in great happiness for nearly three months, but at
length the time for renewing the military operations against the
Spaniards approached, and messengers from the Court warned Monsieur
Villardin that his presence was required at head-quarters.
It was necessary, of course, to obey the summons, and all our
preparations were speedily concluded. Laura and the whole household
were removed to the Prés Vallée before our departure, in order that
masters might be obtained from Rennes to instruct Mademoiselle de
Villardin in all those accomplishments which were required in society,
from a person of her rank; and as my little page, Clement de la Marke,
was too young to accompany me to the tented field, I left him under
the care of Father Ferdinand, in order that he might derive every
advantage from the same facility of procuring instruction.
Before we quitted Dumont, however, Monsieur de Villardin, who never
left any service I did him unrequited, proposed to give me in exchange
for the very uncertain pension which the government had bestowed upon
me, a farm which lay contiguous to Juvigny, and which certainly
rendered my baronial lands of a very respectable extent. I pointed out
to the Duke that the present rents of the farm were far more than the
amount of the pension, and that it was likely to yield still more; but
he insisted upon the arrangement; and T clearly saw that he wished to
recompense the assistance I had afforded him at the Hôtel de Ville,
without rendering his gift burdensome, by bestowing it in the shape of
a reward.
As I knew well that fully one half of his income remained unemployed,
and had long learned to look upon him as a father, his benefits had
nothing galling in them to any of the weaknesses of my nature; and I
willingly accepted his offer. The necessary papers were drawn up and
signed, ere we set out for the army; and I need hardly say that the
benefit conferred did not excite the less gratitude in my bosom,
because the donation was delicately veiled under the semblance of an
exchange.
It will be unnecessary to follow the armies of France through the
campaign that ensued, or to trace my own individual career in the
service, which was simply that of a young officer, possessed of
considerable interest, who rose more by fortunate circumstances, and
the exertions of a few indefatigable friends, than by any particular
credit of his own. It is true that I was active and vigilant, and did
not want courage; but at the same time, I cannot but acknowledge that
both Monsieur de Villardin and Monsieur de Turenne made more of those
qualities in my person than they deserved. After having followed the
royal army through all its marches and countermarches, after having
done what I could to distinguish myself at the siege of Rhetel and of
Mouson, and after having taken part in the deliverance of Rocroy, I
returned to Brittany with Monsieur de Villardin, at the end of the
campaign, considerably richer in honour than I had set out.
Everything at the Prés Vallée was as we left it, or so nearly so, that
it seemed as if that part of the world had stood still, while we had
been hurried through so many different scenes and events. Father
Ferdinand appeared hardly changed in the least; and though Laura had
grown taller, she was still a girl. My little page, indeed, had
greatly improved; and in the couple of months that we spent at the
château, wound himself not only round my heart, but also round that of
Monsieur de Villardin himself; and when at our departure he petitioned
earnestly to be taken with us, I thought that the Duke himself seemed
inclined to second his request.
Judging it better for himself, however, I left him for another year,
and proceeded with Monsieur de Villardin to attend the coronation of
the young king, a summons to which ceremony had curtailed our stay in
Brittany.
During the festivities that succeeded, Monsieur de Villardin became
first acquainted with the Count de Laval, of whom I shall have more to
speak hereafter. He was, as every one knows, wealthy and powerful; and
though he was cold, and somewhat haughty, yet he was, I believe, a man
of generous feelings, and a noble disposition, of which I had
ultimately an extraordinary proof. He paid considerable attention to
Monsieur Villardin; and it struck me from the first that he had some
motive with which I was not aware, in the advances that he made
towards the Duke.
To myself, he always showed himself polite, though distant; and I was
glad to find, as his acquaintance with Monsieur de Villardin advanced,
that he was not inclined to assume a degree of superiority in his
manners towards me, which I might not have been disposed to tolerate.
He was, as I have said, somewhat haughty in his manners to every one,
but certainly not more so towards myself than towards others.
Soon after the coronation, we again quitted the court, and joined the
army, which began its operations by the siege of Stenay. The Prince de
Condé and the Spanish troops having attempted to draw us away, by the
attack of Arras, Monsieur de Turenne marched to its relief, leaving
Monsieur de Faber to carry on the works against Stenay. I remained
with the army of the latter till the capitulation of the place, after
which we rejoined Turenne. No sooner was the junction of the two
armies effected, than it was determined to attack the lines before
Arras, which was accordingly done; and, notwithstanding the cabals of
several of our own officers, and the gallantry and skill of Condé, the
Spanish entrenchments were forced at several points, and the enemy
obliged to retire precipitately to Cambray. The campaign then
proceeded with uninterrupted success, several frontier towns were
taken, and at length, after a year of glory, Turenne dispersed his
troops in winter-quarters, and Monsieur de Villardin returned to
Brittany.
For my own part, I was rewarded for any little services that I might
have performed, by receiving the government of the small town of
Binches, and took possession of my new command with no small pride and
pleasure. The duties, however, thus imposed upon me, of course
prevented my usual journey into Brittany; and although, in the midst
of the winter, I obtained leave to visit Paris, and spent several
pleasant days with my friend and benefactor, Lord Masterton, yet, when
I came to resume my command, it began to seem tiresome and irksome,
and I soon found that I would a great deal rather have been in
Brittany than at Binches. I longed to see Laura and Father Ferdinand,
and my little page, and all the old familiar faces of the château; to
spend the days of winter and spring in the sports of the field and the
busy idleness of country occupations, and the evenings in reading or
in conversation with those whose thoughts and feelings flowed
habitually in the same current with my own. Instead of all this, I had
nothing but the petty state and dull routine which follows the
governor of a small town; and all I could do to amuse myself was
comprised in keeping a continual watch upon the enemy's frontier, and
making such little expeditions as the nature of my command permitted.
In these enterprises I occasionally met with some adventures that
afforded me entertainment; but the only event worth relating, perhaps,
was the capture of two persons whom I have had occasion to mention
more than once. A truce of a few weeks had been concluded in the early
part of spring, and I did all that I could to secure to the
inhabitants of the frontier lands even a short space of tranquillity;
but I soon found that the inactivity of both armies was seized by the
hordes of marauders, which a long war had called into being, as an
opportunity for pillage and exaction. I was instructed, if possible,
to punish some of these bands of plunderers; and having heard of some
movements on the part of the enemy, although the truce was not yet at
an end, I sent out a party to reconnoitre, who fell in with a body of
Spaniards and Germans, and in a charge took about half-a-dozen
officers and soldiers, amongst whom were the two leaders of the
adverse troop. The prisoners were immediately brought into Binches,
followed by a crowd of the peasantry of the neighbouring villages, who
charged them loudly with being mere plunderers and assassins, and
accused them of a number of acts, certainly not very honourable to the
military character.
All this was reported to me by the officer who took them, and who, at
the same time, laid before me a number of articles of a very
miscellaneous description, which had been found upon their persons, or
amongst their baggage, and which tended strongly to confirm the
charges made by the peasantry. Learning upon inquiry that the two
leaders were Frenchmen, and knowing, as I have mentioned, that, under
the pretext of the war, a most disgraceful system of rapine and
robbery was carried on upon the frontier, which system I had been
commanded to put down by the most severe measures, I determined
sternly to hang one of these gentlemen before the gate of the
town,--an act which I was authorised to perform by my own instructions,
and which had more than once been executed by the Spanish officers
under similar circumstances.
Resolving to make them draw lots for the fate to which I destined one
of them, I ordered them to be brought before me; but my purpose was
suddenly changed when I beheld in the two culprits my old
acquaintances, Gaspard de Belleville, and his good brother-in-law,
Captain Hubert, who seemed to have thoroughly initiated his sister's
husband into the mystery of appropriating the property of other
people. What were the peculiar bonds that united them so strongly
together I never inquired; although, as I knew that their connexion by
means of Suzette was not likely to be a very inseparable link, I
judged that a similarity of tastes and pursuits, as well as interests
and necessities, made them cooperate with the friendly zeal which
seemed to actuate them.
Of course, from what I knew of the characters of both, I was the more
inclined to give implicit credence to the charges brought against the
prisoners; but, at the same time, I saw that if I proceeded as I had
at first intended, the many causes of enmity that existed between
myself and Gaspard de Belleville might give the act of justice, which
I had proposed to perform, the aspect of a base and cowardly piece of
revenge. I had by this time learned that it is not sufficient for any
man only to do right, but that where the two are compatible, he must
seem to do right also, injustice to his own character, and in
deference to the opinion of that great earthly judge, mankind; and I
consequently resolved to wave my right of punishing the plunderers
myself, lest the example should lose half its effect by being
attributed to wrong motives. I caused, however, the whole evidence to
be recapitulated in their presence; and, turning to Gaspard de
Belleville, I said, "You hear, sir, the charge against you, and before
seeing you, I had determined that you should expiate the crimes you
have committed by the sacrifice of your life. As, however, there are
various circumstances which have occurred at different times between
you and me which might give such an act the colouring of revenge, I
shall send you and your companion there, back in chains to the Prince
de Condé, with a full statement of the case, and will then trust to
his Highness's sense of justice to punish you as you deserve."
Gaspard de Belleville turned deadly pale at the first part of my
speech, and he attempted to curl his lip into a sneer as I concluded;
but the effort was not successful, and only ended in a grimace,
wherein the expression of apprehension was still greatly predominant
over that of contempt. As to his worthy brother-in-law, his bold
bearing remained unquelled; and, remembering me perfectly, though many
years had now passed since our first meeting in the forest, he boldly
claimed acquaintance with me--evidently more from a spirit of daring
than from any other feeling--and replied, "that he was sure I would
never have the heart to hang an old friend in his situation."
He spoke with a sort of impudent smile: but, holding the command that
I did in the town, I did not choose to bandy jests with him in
presence of all toy officers; and ordering him and his companion to be
removed, I caused the testimony of the peasants to be put down and
properly attested; and sent the culprits in irons, accompanied by a
flag of truce, to the Prince de Condé, who was at that time in the
neighbourhood of Mons. At the same time, I informed his Highness by
letter, not only of the facts which accompanied the capture of the
prisoners, but of the motives which induced me to act as I did,
stating simply and sincerely, without fear or reservation, the
determination I had originally formed, and my reasons for not putting
it in execution.
I felt sure that such conduct would be appreciated by the Prince, nor
was I deceived; for though, in a letter which I received from his
Highness in reply, he said, in a gay tone, that he had too few friends
to hang any of them himself, yet he assured me that he would
immediately dismiss from his service two men that had so disgraced the
cause to which they had attached themselves. This the officer, who had
carried them to his quarters, informed me he had executed in presence
of all his staff, and had at the same time expressed the highest
approbation of my conduct throughout the affair.
Though, in my progress through life, I had lost a great deal of that
taste for bitter enmities with which I had set out in my boyhood, yet,
I confess, I did not feel the least apprehension from a knowledge that
two men, who viewed me with mortal hatred, had been turned loose upon
the world, although the officer added, that, before quitting the
presence of the Prince de Condé, they had expressed the most resolute
determination to find means of avenging themselves upon me.
This little incident, which possessed some degree of interest while it
lasted, was soon forgotten, and all the weariness of my command began
to return; but, without knowing it, my governorship of Binches was
drawing towards a close. About a fortnight after the capture of
Gaspard and his companions, I received a letter from Monsieur le
Tellier, which, from its very cordial and friendly commencement,--very
different in style and form from the generality of official
communications,--I clearly saw was destined, ere its close, to demand
some service, or to require some sacrifice. I was not disappointed;
for after a number of high commendations, and promises of future
advancement, the worthy minister went on to inform me that there was a
young protégé of the Cardinal greatly in want of some appointment, and
that, if I were inclined to resign my government in his favour, it
would be immediately beneficial to him, and ultimately beneficial to
myself. To render what the minister believed would be a bitter draught
more palatable, he added an immense quantity of the universal
sweetener, flattery, telling me that the Cardinal had the less
hesitation in making this request, as it would be impossible for the
King to suffer so distinguished an officer as myself to remain in the
inactivity of a small government after the armies were called into the
field for the next campaign; and, as a more substantial inducement, he
offered to grant me immediately a higher grade in the army, upon my
resignation of the governorship of Binches.
I took very good care, as it may be easily conceived, not to let the
minister know, by my reply, how tired I was of the post I occupied,
and how desirous I was of returning to Brittany for the two months
that were yet likely to elapse before the opening of the campaign. On
the contrary, I quietly pointed out how inadequate the new rank
offered me was, when viewed as an equivalent to the governorship: but,
at the same time, I expressed my perfect willingness to do anything
which could oblige or give pleasure to the Cardinal Prime Minister;
and I ended by assuring Monsieur le Tellier that, as soon as I
received the commission giving the rank he promised, I would send him
my resignation of the government in favour of the gentleman he pointed
out.
This reply speedily produced a rejoinder, enclosing my commission,
thanking me repeatedly for my prompt acquiescence, and promising great
things for the future. Extremely well pleased with the whole affair,
though very well convinced that the Cardinal would soon find means of
forgetting all his promises, I drew up my resignation in due form, and
presented it with my own hands to Monsieur le Tellier. My successor
was instantly sent to Binches; and, without lingering in Paris a
moment more than was necessary, I set out for Brittany alone, leaving
my servants and baggage to follow,--preferring still, above all
things, the sort of rapid and independent mode of proceeding, to which
I had been accustomed before state, or rank, or fortune entitled,
enabled, or required me to burden myself with followers or attendants.
My journey, as I rode my own horse, was less rapid than many of those
which I had previously made to and from the same spot; but it was a
far more pleasant one. Looking upon the house of Monsieur de Villardin
as my home, and upon his household as my family, I experienced fully
as much pleasure in the prospect of rejoining him as if his blood had
flowed in my veins. I felt greatly relieved, too, by the resignation
of an irksome office; and, with a sensation of liberty and
independence which I had never known while chained, as it were, to the
walls of Binches, I rode on through a rich and varying country, which,
throughout the whole of my journey, was lighted up by the sweet fresh
sunshine of the spring, and which at every step afforded new and
beautiful traces of the cessation of anarchy and civil war, and the
return of industry and security.
It was evening when I reached Rennes, but there still wanted an hour
or two of night; and as my horse was extremely tired, I left him at
the auberge, and walked on by the bank of the stream towards the Prés
Vallée. The calm sweet meadows, the magnificent woods that surrounded
them, the still silvery river that wandered through the midst, all
seemed more tranquilly solemn than usual. A feeling of soft repose
pervaded the whole scene, while the beams of the setting sun, pouring
between the bolls of the giant trees, and streaming amidst the green
transparent leaves of the young spring, cheered away every trace of
gloom, and left it all still and peaceful, though anything but gay.
Although I was going to those I loved, and delighted in the thought of
seeing them again, yet the many feelings of my heart, the memories of
the past, the hopes of the future, the enjoyment of the present, all,
perhaps, tended to make me linger as I wandered on through a scene
that seemed to blend and harmonise with every mingled emotion of my
bosom.
I had passed the second and third sweep of trees, had crossed the
fourth savanna, and had entered the fourth grove, when I heard some
one speaking, and, looking forward, I saw two female figures, under
one of the trees which bordered the meadow I was just about to cross.
They were evidently enjoying the evening sunshine, the one standing
with her arm leaning against the old elm that overhung their heads,
the other seated on a bench which had been placed at its foot. I had
no difficulty in recognising in the first my old acquaintance, Lise,
the suivante of Mademoiselle de Villardin, but I could scarcely
believe that the other was her young mistress. It seemed but a day
since I had left her a mere child; at least, so gradual had been the
change up to the time of my last departure, that to me she had seemed
but little older than when first I knew her. Now, however, there was a
change indeed. Even before I saw her face, the full rounded contour of
her whole form, the very fall of her figure, still replete with
grace and beauty--but, oh, so different from the grace of
childhood--prepared me for an alteration, or rather made me doubt that
it could be herself; but when my step caught her ear, and she turned
towards me, I paused in surprise. It was certainly the face of Laura de
Villardin--every feature was there, but yet so splendidly changed. The
full ruby lip, the dark bright eye, the long black lashes, the sunny
cheek, were all before me, as I had known them for years: but there
was a new soul in them all--a light, a feeling, that left them as
different as it is possible to conceive; and yet the general
expression, too, was the same--innocent, natural, playful. The
features, however, had also become more formed: they had lost every
remains of what one may call the shapelessness of childhood, and had
acquired all the chiselled symmetry of young maturity.
As I have said, I could scarcely believe my eyes, and I paused; but I
soon found that, however changed in form, she was in no degree changed
in mind, or heart, or feelings. I was scarcely altered: she saw in me
alone the dear companion of her childhood,--the boy who had saved her
own and her father's life; and as soon as her eyes rested on me, she
started up, and cast herself into my arms, exactly as she had done
when she was seven years old. The same affection that she had felt
through life beamed up in her eyes--the same joy to see me again,
which she had always manifested, sparkled over her countenance--and
the same endearing terms of unreserved regard, and delighted welcome,
hung upon her lips. It is impossible to describe all that I felt, and
indeed I did not stay to analyse it at the time. I pressed her to my
heart as a sister, and, kissing her cheek, led her back to her seat.
But as she sat down again, and I took my place beside her, a growing
blush seemed to tell that for the first time she remembered that
she was no longer a child.
It passed away again in a moment; and I was glad to find that, however
she settled the matter with her own heart, she was determined to let
the change be no change to me. My good friend Lise, too, was delighted
to see me; and though eight or nine years had certainly made a
considerable difference in her since first I saw her, she had lost
none of her native kindness of heart, or cheerfulness of disposition.
She loaded me with a thousand questions, admired my dress, declared
that I was turning more handsome every year, and called upon Laura for
an opinion in regard to my beauty, which roused Mademoiselle de
Villardin from a deep reverie into which she had fallen, and which
ended in another blush.
It was now her turn to ask questions; and many did she put, though in
a very different strain from those of Lise. They were all questions of
affection and interest in my fate and happiness, without a touch of
curiosity; and when she heard that I had resigned the petty government
that I had held, and was at liberty to remain with Monsieur de
Villardin as before, I shall not easily forget the joy that beamed out
of her beautiful eyes.
It would make her father so very, very happy, she said, for he had
often regretted my absence, and had never seemed so cheerful since I
had been away. Often, too, she told me, he had blamed himself for
advising me to accept the post I bad taken, and which he declared was
unworthy of my merits; and she added many another little trait from
which she herself had divined, and which led me to believe also, that
Monsieur de Villardin had long been anxious for my return. Neither
Laura nor myself, however, did anything to hasten our walk to the
château, from which we were nearly a mile distant. The scene was so
sweet and calm, and the evening so warm and fine, that it might well
invite us to tarry: but there was a sensation of delight in our first
conversation after so long a separation, which we were unwilling to
cut short, and a feeling of happiness, too, in the almost unwitnessed
enjoyment of each other's society, which, as it might be long ere the
same pleasure was renewed, we were both glad to prolong.
At length, however, the purple hues that began to spread over the sky
warned us that we must bend our steps homeward; and Lise, though she
had no small touch of romance in her nature, declared that Monsieur
would be anxious if Mademoiselle did not return. Laura rose, and,
leaning on my arm, took the way along the river, whose glossy bosom
was reflecting, bright but softened, the trees, and the banks, and the
changing sky above. Our eyes now met, and now rested on the waters;
our conversation flew from subject to subject, like a butterfly in a
flower-garden,--now poured on uninterrupted, now dropped altogether,
and gave place to thought. She told me again and again how glad my
return would make every one in the château, leaving me to include
herself in the number; and I thought how beautiful she had grown, and
remembered how dear and amiable she always had been. At length, the
grey turrets and slated roofs of the château rose over the nearest
trees; and one of the sweetest and the happiest walks ended that ever
I enjoyed through life.
CHAPTER XXXII.
As my negotiations with Monsieur le Tellier concerning the resignation
of the governorship had been carried on too rapidly to admit of my
writing to Monsieur de Villardin by any of the ordinary couriers, my
arrival at the Prés Vallée was unexpected; and when, from the windows
of the library, he beheld his daughter leaning on the arm of a young
cavalier, whose face he could not distinguish in the grey of the
evening as we crossed the terrace, his surprise was so great that he
came out to the steps of the château to meet us. His pleasure appeared
hardly less than his astonishment when he recognised me; and Lise
having entered the house, the tidings soon spread through the
household; so that, while Monsieur de Villardin was giving me a glad
welcome, I had my little page Clement de la Marke, old Jerome Laborde,
and half a dozen of the ancient domestics, turned out upon the terrace
to greet my arrival, not knowing that Monsieur de Villardin himself
had come forth to do me that honour.
The Duke smiled when he saw them; and, still holding my hand, which he
had taken at our first meeting, he led me in, saying,--"You see what
a favourite you are, my dear boy: but I will have my turn now; and,
indeed, I am almost jealous of Laura, for having forestalled me in
giving you welcome."
His manner was that of an affectionate father receiving a
well-beloved son after a long absence; and as, notwithstanding the
propensity of human nature to presume upon kindness, I never entirely
forgot that I had been a friendless orphan, destitute and lonely, it
may be easily imagined what feelings such tenderness inspired. When we
had entered the library, Monsieur de Villardin seated himself at the
table, with Laura by his side, and with his hand leaning on her
shoulder; and they both gazed upon me so intently, as I sat opposite
to them, as almost to make me smile.
"Well, well," said Monsieur de Villardin, at length, "you are not much
changed since I saw you; though a good deal, I dare say, in the eyes
of Laura."
Mademoiselle de Villardin, however, declared that I was not changed in
the least; and, indeed, would fain have persuaded her father that I
was exactly the same in appearance as when I had saved her from
drowning at Dumont, some eight or nine years before.
"It has come upon you gradually, Laura," replied her father; "but now,
tell me, De Juvigny, how came you here, and in whose hands have you
left your government?"
I explained to him the whole particulars; which, as he well knew the
grasping spirit of Mazarin, did not at all surprise him: nor did the
arrangement, I believe, displease him at heart; for, after a comment
or two on the injustice of the proceeding, and a promise to use his
influence in order to obtain for me something equivalent to that which
I had lost, he added,--"But I will take care that it shall be nothing
that will separate us again; for your absence has been a loss to me
which I scarcely thought anything could now prove, at least in such a
degree. That I should feel it deeply, however, is not at all
astonishing; for I think, De Juvigny, it is now between nine and ten
years since first we met; and, during that time, we have never before
been separated for many months, except when you were in prison at
Stenay. I think, too, that during that time, you have accumulated upon
my head more obligations than ever one man before conferred upon
another. You have been my confidant, my adviser, my friend, and my
constant companion; so that I may well feel your absence as a loss
which the society of even my dear child can scarcely compensate."
"There now, my dear brother," cried Laura, using an epithet which she
often employed towards me; "have I not a right to be jealous of you?
and, indeed," she added, "I should almost be jealous of your little
page, too, who has completely supplanted both my father's other pages
in his affection, were I not as fond of the dear boy myself."
Almost as she spoke, Clement himself entered the library, bounding up
to my knee with that sort of bold and undismayed step, which showed me
clearly upon what very unceremonious terms he had established himself
in the family of Monsieur de Villardin. He was greatly changed in his
appearance since I had last seen him, though he was still as fine a
boy as ever I beheld; and as tall, as strong, and as well proportioned
as many boys of eleven or twelve, although he could not be, at that
time, so much as nine years old. There was, too, in his whole
appearance, an air of graceful ease--a sort of natural dignity--which
was extraordinary in one so young; and I felt very sure, from his
whole demeanour, that he had been informed by some one, that his rank
and station in society was equal to that of those with whom he was
called to mix. The time he had spent at the Prés Vallée had certainly
not been thrown away; for I soon found that my little page was already
a more accomplished scholar than myself; and I easily perceived, from
the manner in which he executed all that he had learned of military
exercises, that he wanted but habit, discipline, and experience to
become eventually one of the best soldiers of the day.
I had always been kind to him during the few months we spent together
every year; and, looking upon him but as a younger son of the same
adventurous family with myself, I had treated him perhaps as a
favourite brother. This had, of course, rendered him fond of me; and
his manner towards me was everything that I could desire. There was no
want of respect, though it was the respect of affection and esteem;
and, though he was frank and bold, telling me at once his thoughts,
his opinions, and his wishes, yet it was done with that air of natural
confidence and candour that rendered it infinitely pleasing; while, at
the same time, he yielded to my wishes or my arguments as if he felt a
pleasure in doing what I bade him, and in giving up his mind to my
direction. Whether the affection of my mind that he gained upon his
side was vanity, self-love, or any more noble feeling, I cannot tell,
but certainly he wound himself completely round my heart; though, to
say the truth, during the six weeks that I remained at the Prés
Vallée, I was very little with him.
Other feelings and other pursuits gradually took possession of me
altogether;--feelings which I did not understand, and would not
examine,--pursuits, the tendency of which I did not perceive, and the
result of which I dared not calculate. From some early prejudice,
Monsieur de Villardin had the utmost hatred at the very thought of a
gouvernante for his daughter; and though, for the form's sake, he had
often declared that he must procure one,--though many of his female
relations had reasoned with him upon the subject, and had held up
before his eyes all the customs and respects of the world which
require such a proceeding,--yet no step had been taken to that effect;
and Laura de Villardin, now in her sixteenth year, remained in her
father's house with no other female attendants than Lise, her
principal maid, and two or three ordinary tiring-women. Masters for
all sorts of accomplishments visited her from Rennes every morning;
but from two o'clock till the hour of repose, her time was all her
own; and it was now divided between her father and myself. The vigour,
however, of Monsieur de Villardin was beginning to be impaired; and,
though he was still a strong and powerful man for his time of life,
yet a degree of inactivity, when no great excitement prompted to
exertion, showed that years began to lay as a burden upon him. Thus
the walks and rides of Laura de Villardin, before my arrival, had
often been taken alone, or only followed, when on horseback, by some
servants, or, when on foot, by her attendant Lise. Now, indeed, the
matter was changed, and I became her constant companion in the rambles
which before might be considered as solitary. It never seemed to
strike Monsieur de Villardin that any feeling which might be dangerous
to his other views, or to our peace, could spring out of such constant
association. Doubtless he thought that, having grown up together from
very early years, our feelings would ever remain those of a brother
and sister; or, perhaps, he never thought about it at all. No
impediment, however, did he ever throw in our way; but, on the
contrary, whenever he felt any indisposition himself, he was the first
to send me with her on any excursion that she proposed to take, and
more than once reminded me that, at a very early age, I had pledged
myself to be her protector and defender throughout the years of youth.
Thus it was that, during the six weeks that I now stayed at the Prés
Vallée, I was, for at least one half of each day, in the constant
society of Laura de Villardin. A considerable portion, indeed, of that
time was spent in company with her father; but I may say, no day
passed without her being alone with me, either wandering with her arm
in mine through the fair scenes round us, or reading together some
tale of ancient lore, or sitting at the foot of some tree, and
enjoying the beautiful spring for at least two or three hours.
It must not be thought that knowingly and wilfully I took advantage of
these opportunities to steal the heart of the young heiress of such
broad lands and splendid possessions. I have before said that I did
not and would not examine what I was doing, or what was likely to be
the result either with herself or me. There was no calculation in the
business, no consideration, no forethought. The fascination was too
strong for reflection. Her society was delightful to me, as it always
had been; and I enjoyed it as I had ever done, without knowing that it
could become dangerous. The only thing, I am confident, that even for
a moment could have caused a suspicion in either her bosom or mine of
what was really passing in our hearts, were the feelings which
accompanied our first meetings in the mornings. It had always been her
custom--a custom sanctioned by the universal habits of France--after
turning from her father's salutation and embrace, to welcome me in the
same manner: and whenever we had been in the same dwelling, from our
childhood up to that hour, not a day had passed without my lips being
pressed upon her cheek, while her fair hand rested in mine, and her
sweet voice gave me the good-morrow.
Now, however, I perhaps experienced feelings, at the moment of our
morning meeting, which should have told me more. A thrill passed
through me as her hand touched mine; my heart beat as our eyes met,
and I ought to have felt that the kiss was no longer that of a
brother. But it is wonderful how blind people become under such
circumstances, and, I say the truth, upon my honour, when I say that I
did not know that deep and passionate love was growing up in my heart
towards Laura de Villardin. If Monsieur de Villardin calculated at all
upon the same feelings which had animated us in infancy remaining
still unchanged, he calculated not only most wrongly, but upon false
grounds altogether. Such might have been the case had we never been
separated; but now,--at the same time that our youthful affection had
prepared our hearts to receive gladly every new feeling that bound us
to each other--we had been of late years absent from each other for so
many months, that each renewal of our intercourse came with the
freshness of a new acquaintance, and at length, when I returned after
a more prolonged separation still, I found the sweet girl, who was
already so dear to me, sprung up into womanhood: I found her the most
lovely and engaging creature I had ever beheld, while admiration was
heightened and softened by a thousand tender memories, and long habits
of endearing intimacy.
Still, we neither of us knew how rapidly love was gaining on our
hearts--still, neither of us made the slightest effort to resist his
power, or to avoid his influence. Our lonely walks were the sweetest
of our lives; and, though we were very frequently accompanied by Lise,
who probably divined more of our own feelings than we did ourselves;
yet, I must confess that she was the most discreet and friendly of
suivantes, and contrived to throw no restraint upon our conversations.
What those conversations were heaven knows. They were a whirl of
bright things; a mixture of dreams, and thoughts, and feelings, the
blendings of passion and imagination, which might altogether form many
a page of wild but brilliant nonsense, if I could write down an exact
transcript of all that passed.
We were in love with the world, and all that it contained; and, from
the bright feelings that had sprung up within us, e very thing around
us seemed bright. Our whole sensations were a panegyric upon all that
we beheld: the sunshine was gayer than ever sunshine had been before;
the trees were greener--the fields more sweet and fresh; for us the
breeze was loaded with perfume; for us each flower had some new
beauty--some brighter grace. We found it inexhaustible to praise and
to admire; for everything around offered us the reflex of that
happiness, which had so lately arisen in our own bosoms.
Be it remarked, however, that, amongst all the subjects of
conversation which we now enjoyed--and they were as varied as the
shapes of summer-clouds--that we never talked of love. We spoke of
ancient tales, and bright, unexampled friendship--the arts and graces
of Greece--the virtues and the might of Rome. We spoke of modern
days--of gallant deeds in the field--of sad and tragic events--of
stories of interest and of anecdotes of wit. We spoke of the beauties
of nature, and of all the fair varieties of the world's face. We spoke
of ourselves, and our interests, and our feelings, and our tastes. We
spoke of our many associated memories in the past, and we looked
forward to many a hope and pleasure together in the future; but still
we never spoke of love. It might be a deep, hidden, eternal, unavowed
consciousness, concealed from our own eyes as well as from the rest of
the world, that made us avoid--I must call it scrupulously--the most
distant approach to that one subject, amongst all the rest of which we
spoke. It might be that, by some sort of instinctive perception, we
trod lightly, because we found that our feet were upon a volcano.
The fire, however, went on within our hearts, though silently. We
drank the intoxicating cup to the dregs, without knowing that it was
wine. There was none to open our eyes--there was none to warn us; and,
like all other persons in the same situation, we woke not from our
dream till it was too late.
Such might not have been the case, had not the only member of the
family who was likely to have given us warning and counsel--to have
felt for all our feelings, and foreseen all our danger--had he not
been absent during the whole of my stay at the Prés Vallée. I allude
to Father Ferdinand, who, only two days before my arrival, had set out
for Dumont. He did not return as soon as had been expected, and I more
than once proposed to ride over to Dumont, and see him; but there was
a fascination at the Prés Vallée which detained me with a power not to
be resisted, and I put off my expedition from day to day, till at
length an order arrived for Monsieur de Villardin and myself to resume
our military duties, and we were obliged to prepare for our departure.
The summons came nearly a month sooner than we had expected, and of
course caused no small bustle and confusion, especially as Monsieur de
Villardin, yielding to the degree of corporeal inactivity, which, as I
have before said, was creeping over him, determined to travel to Paris
in his carriage, instead of on horseback; and consequently the time
consumed on the journey was likely to be much greater than usual.
I had on a former occasion promised little Clement de la Marke to take
him with me in the next campaign, and although I now felt some scruple
at exposing a boy of his tender age to all the dangers and fatigues of
a camp, yet he pressed me so vehemently to keep my word with him, that
I at length consented; remembering how much more severe had been the
hardships that surrounded my own early youth, and believing that the
hard school in which my education had commenced had been ultimately of
infinite benefit to me through life.
The day appointed for our departure speedily approached, and as it
came nearer, the hours spent with Laura became doubly dear; nor indeed
did she look less lovely, or less interesting, from a shade of
melancholy that spread more and more over her fair face, as every
minute that fled took something from the small space of time that we
had yet to dream away in each other's society. She never loved parting
from her friends, she said; and she knew not why, but she felt more
apprehensive for her father than she had ever before done on his
departure for the army. She besought me to be watchful of him, and to
persuade him, as much as possible, to keep out of all unnecessary
danger; but she said not a word of caution on my part. A thousand
little traits, however, let me feel that she was not indifferent to my
safety either, and she took great pains to show me how ungenerous and
unkind it was towards friends and relations for any soldier to expose
himself rashly and carelessly.
At length the day arrived; the horses were put to the carnage, and
Monsieur de Villardin, myself, and little Clement, one by one took our
leave of Laura, and departed. The tears streamed over her cheeks as
she bade us adieu, but there was certainly nothing to point out that
those tears flowed more painfully than her separation from her father
under such circumstances might well justify. Monsieur de Villardin
took his seat in one corner of the coach, and I in the other, and
little Clement placed himself in the portiere, where he could more
easily see what was passing around. Two other pages accompanied us,
and a few attendants on horseback followed, while a number of servants
had been sent forward with our chargers, in order to reach the capital
by easy journeys. The Duke, silent and grave as usual, soon fell into
a fit of thought, which lasted uninterrupted during the greater part
of the day. The two pages, on the opposite side of the carriage, were
as mute as mice, and little Clement, in his portiere, was too busily
occupied with all the new objects that passed before his eyes, to
break in upon our silence by anything more than a casual exclamation
of wonder or pleasure, or by some question, which he generally
answered himself, fully to his own satisfaction, before any one else
could reply.
My thoughts were busy enough upon subjects which were destined to grow
more and more painful under reflection. The first feelings to which I
gave way were those of pure sorrow at parting with Laura de Villardin;
and I felt, for the first time in my life, that faint sickness of
heart, which I suppose every one feels in separating from a being so
dear--that sensation of a deprivation and a void--that oppressive
sense of the uncertainty of fate, which may ever throw so many
obstacles in our way, ere we can again behold those that we so deeply
love. Such feelings are painful enough in themselves; but I soon began
to inquire their cause. I had been longer negligent in examining my
own heart, and in tracing the latent causes of all that was working in
it, than I had been for many years; but the magic which had withheld
my thoughts from every other subject, and which had cast a veil over
every other sensation, was now lost; and my mind naturally turned to
inquire what was the real cause of all those new and mingled feelings,
which, for six weeks, had been a source of such joy, and which now had
left me full of sad thoughts and melancholy forebodings. The truth was
no longer to be concealed: the very pain I felt at quitting Laura de
Villardin told me that I loved her--the very depression of spirits,
and distaste for the career before me--a career which had formerly
occupied all my thoughts and wishes--now showed me where my hopes and
pleasures all centred; and repeated, in language that I could not
doubt, that I loved, and loved too deeply ever to forget.
Such a certainty, under some circumstances, might have so mingled hope
and expectation with all the anxieties and apprehensions which follow
every strong passion, that the whole would still have remained a
pleasant dream to cheer me on upon the path of exertion and
enterprise; but, situated as I was, the tardy discovery alone exposed
to my sight a prospect of disappointment and despair. What could I
hope?--what could I expect? I, a poor adventurer, with but the two
recommendations of personal courage and noble birth; I, whose whole
possessions on earth were owing to the generosity of others--whose
way to fame and distinction had been opened by their kind
endeavours--could I hope to win the heiress of one of the noblest
houses and of the most splendid fortunes in all France; I, who had
been her father's page; who owed him everything--fortune, station, and
the means of gaining renown. Oh! what I would have given at that
moment to have had the power of changing her I loved into the
daughter of some poor gentleman, who would have gladly bestowed her
without a portion.
Perhaps for a single instant one of the idle visions of hope broke in
with a ray of light, as I remembered to what stations many young men,
situated precisely as myself, had arisen by energy and good fortune;
and especially when I thought of Mondejeu, afterwards Maréchal de
Shulemberg, whom I myself recollected an unnoticed page in the house
of the Duc de Bouillon, and who, by that time, had become governor of
the important city of Arras, and was in the road to the highest
honours of France. But such dreams were speedily at an end; for every
way I turned my eyes, some new circumstance presented itself, to prove
my situation more and more hopeless. The final stroke of all, however,
was when I considered what would be the feelings of Monsieur de
Villardin, if ever he discovered that I had dared to raise my hopes to
the hand of his daughter; and still more, if he were to find that I
had attempted, by any means, to win her affection. Would he not have a
right, I asked myself, to accuse me of the basest ingratitude?--would
he not be entitled to charge me with deceit and hypocrisy? Had I not
already in some degree betrayed his trust, unconsciously, indeed, but
still most foolishly? Ought I not to have looked into my own heart
long before; and, judging by what I felt myself, have taken every care
to guard against the slightest attempt to inspire the same feelings in
the daughter of my benefactor?
I could not but acknowledge that if I had acted wisely or prudently,
if I had been as watchful for his interests and for his peace as
gratitude and affection ought to have made me, I should have played a
different part, and avoided the society of her that I loved. I
trusted, however, that it was not too late to remedy my folly.
Whatever I had inflicted on myself, however irremediable was the state
of disappointment and despair to which I had condemned my own heart, I
hoped and believed that Laura's feelings had been less interested. If,
indeed, there had been anything farther in her sentiments towards me
than mere sisterly affection, I trusted that it would soon pass away;
and I determined never to see her again till I could command my own
demeanour, and behave to her in a very different manner from that in
which I had conducted myself of late.
I would try to conquer my passion, I thought, or die. I am afraid the
idea of death was uppermost from the beginning, for before we had
reached the end of our first day's journey, a dream, of a bright but
painful nature, flitted frequently before my imagination. The path of
glory and honour I thought was before me, and in the same path lay
death, who, with his icy hand, would soon cool all the feverish
burning of my heart. How bright, then, would it not be, I asked
myself, to out-do in the field all that man had ever done, and to have
it told to Laura de Villardin, that I had won immortal honour, and
died upon the bed of glory? She would weep for me, I fancied, and her
father would weep; and if the love I bore her were ever discovered, it
would then but serve to shed a brighter light upon my memory, rather
than throw a shadow on my name.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
It may easily be conceived that such reveries as those which occupied
me during the rest of the journey, produced a sensible effect upon my
external demeanour. Men may conceal great schemes and mighty designs,
and all those enterprises in which the mind alone is concerned may be
hidden by firmness, or covered over by art, but the deep feelings and
intense passions of the heart almost always betray their workings by
some external sign. It was Clement de la Marke who first perceived the
alteration, and, hanging upon me affectionately, he inquired what made
me so sad. Ere long it caught the attention of Monsieur de Villardin
himself; and, without the slightest suspicion of its cause, he spoke
of my unusual gravity as if it had arisen from disappointment in
regard to the governorship of Binches, and tried to console me by
promising to use every effort to obtain for me a just compensation.
Each new instance of his kindness, far from giving me any relief, only
served to make me feel more poignantly, that even, did no other
circumstances exist to deprive my love of even a chance of success,
gratitude to him should teach me to view it with despair. Every
thought, every remembrance, showed me more and more strongly that my
passion was hopeless; and yet every feeling assured me that that
passion was unconquerable, and could never be forgotten. My buoyant
heart, which I had thought nothing could overwhelm, completely sunk
under the tide of sad thoughts and bitter feelings that overflowed in
my bosom during our journey to Paris; and, when we arrived in the
capital, I was as reckless a human being as ever despair drove to vice
or to folly. What might have been the consequences I cannot tell, for
no man should ever trust himself in such a state of mind, had it not
been immediately necessary to join the army, and to quit a place in
the debaucheries of which I might, perhaps, have sought relief from
the agony that preyed upon my heart.
We arrived in the capital in the morning; and while I remained at our
hotel, in a state of gloomy despondency, which seemed to crush all my
energies, Monsieur de Villardin proceeded to the Court, and returned,
after an absence of two hours, with a countenance which plainly showed
that he was highly gratified by the reception he had met with. He did
not mention what had occurred, however, but merely told me that it
would be necessary for me to accompany him to the royal presence the
next morning; and, as I cared but little what I did or what I left
undone, I assented with the utmost indifference, and followed him when
the time came.
After having remained in waiting for a few minutes, we were admitted
to the royal presence, and found the King--now grown into one of the
handsomest young men I had ever seen--in company with his mother,
Cardinal Mazarin, Le Tellier, and a number of other ministers and
attendants, in the act of giving audience to a foreign ambassador, who
was taking leave ere his departure. Our reception was most gracious,
and I soon found that the pliancy which I had shown in yielding at
once to the wishes of the Cardinal, had established my favour, not
only with that minister, but with the royal family, on a basis which
might have been very advantageous to me had I been disposed to profit
by it. As there was no hope, however, of any turn of fortune taking
place, sufficiently miraculous in its nature to render a young English
adventurer a fit match for the heiress of two noble houses, I was very
indifferent to all the rest. I saw with more satisfaction, however,
the marks of honour which the Court bestowed upon Monsieur de
Villardin; and ere we took our leave, was gratified by beholding the
baton of Field Marshal placed in his hands by the young monarch, with
a compliment on his fidelity and military skill, which must have
doubled the pleasure that the distinction produced.
After having expressed his thanks, Monsieur de Villardin drew back a
step, and presenting me anew to the king, he added, "I think, Sire,
you were graciously pleased to intimate that you had some mark of your
royal approbation to bestow upon my young friend, who will, I am sure,
do his best to deserve it."
"The commission has not yet received our signature," replied the King,
"but it shall be sent to your hotel before your departure to-morrow.
In the meantime I doubt not, Monsieur le Maréchal, that you have
informed the Baron de Juvigny of my intentions in his favour."
"I did not presume, Sire," replied Monsieur de Villardin, "to
forestall the pleasure he would receive from hearing your royal
goodness towards him expressed by your own lips."
"You did well, Sir," replied the King. "Monsieur de Juvigny, the
honours we confer are always on account of past services, though we
wish them to act as incitements to fresh exertion, by affording the
certainty that, as far as Heaven grants us power of discrimination,
merit of any kind shall never be left without its reward. Since we
last had an opportunity of signifying our approbation, you have
continued to do well; and, in consequence thereof, as well as at the
solicitation of your friend here present, it is our intention to
bestow upon you the regiment which he himself raised, and in which you
have hitherto exercised a subordinate command. The commission, as I
said before, shall be sent to you ere your departure to-morrow."
Long replies are never suitable to any expression of the royal will,
and even thanks had better be brief as well as forcible. I had,
therefore, no inducement, even if I had been disposed at the time, to
be eloquent; and, setting forth my gratitude as shortly, but as
pointedly as I could, I took my leave and drew back. Monsieur de
Villardin also received permission immediately to retire, and,
re-entering his carriage, we drove homewards.
If the new mark of royal favour I had received had, in the slightest
degree rekindled the spark of hope in my bosom--and I suppose that
such is always, more or less, the tendency of some unexpected
success--Monsieur de Villardin, as we returned to his hotel,
unconsciously extinguished the light altogether.
After congratulating me upon my good fortune, which he represented,
and represented truly, as opening the way to the highest honours in
the French army, he added, "You will be delighted, my dear boy, I am
sure--as I know you take as much interest in my affairs as if you were
my own son,--you will be delighted, I say, to hear that I have
found for my dear Laura the very best alliance, perhaps in all
France. Yesterday, at the palace, I met with my good friend, the Count
de Laval, whose fortune and family, and high character, place him
amongst the first, in the first rank of our French nobility. He at
once asked my daughter's hand, and enhanced the compliment by telling
me that he had determined upon that step two years before, and had
only waited that I might become thoroughly acquainted both with his
situation and disposition, before he ventured to propose the alliance.
I need not tell you, that I instantly accepted his proposal. But, as
we both agreed that Laura is still too young, the final arrangements
must be delayed for a year and a half."
Luckily it happened that the carriage was, at that moment, passing
through one of those dark, narrow streets, which leave many parts of
Paris in a continual state of obscurity. Had it not been so, I am
convinced that the agony which his words inflicted could not have
escaped the eyes of Monsieur de Villardin. It is impossible to
describe all I felt at what appeared to me to be a cold and heartless
sacrifice of the girl I loved to a man whom she had never yet beheld.
But little, either, could I reconcile such conduct with the deep and
impassioned feelings which Monsieur de Villardin naturally possessed;
though such unfortunately was, and is the universal method of
arranging all transactions of the kind in France: and Laura's father,
perhaps, never considered it possible that any other plan could be
pursued to render his child more happy. Little did he know, indeed,
what was passing in my heart as he spoke, or a new view of her
situation must instantly have burst upon his sight, however impossible
he might have felt it to break the engagements he had already formed.
Nor did I attempt to alter his determination, well knowing that no
change therein could work a benefit to myself. I replied nothing to
his communication, except some incoherent words expressive of
surprise; and after they had passed my lips, I remained in dark and
bitter silence, revolving acts of madness and folly, which I hardly
dare to think of even at this moment.
My feelings before had been all light and sunshiny--happiness itself
compared to those which I now experienced. I cannot, indeed, say that
I had forgot that Laura could become the bride of another; but, even
while I knew and felt that she could never be mine, the image of her I
loved as another man's wife had never presented itself to my mind. Now
that it did rise up before me, it was too painful to be endured, and,
from the sensations that I experienced during that day and the two
that followed it, I gained my first full insight into all those
passions which had torn and distracted Monsieur de Villardin himself
during the week that had preceded the death of his unhappy wife.
To bring about my own death, or that of the Count de Laval, were,
during that time, the only thoughts continually present to my mind,
and the idea of the latter was certainly predominant for some time. As
hours passed away, however, I began to remember that, even were my own
hand to rid me of the rival that had thus sprung up, I should be still
as far from hope as ever; and that, under whatever pretence I might
seek a quarrel with him, and call him to the field, the act itself
would be nothing short of murder in my own eyes, and the eyes of the
Almighty, however the blind world might regard the deed.
Such feelings occupied me during the whole of that evening and night
with such intensity, that I certainly forgot all form and ceremony. I
remained silent, gloomy, abstracted; and both my little page and
Monsieur de Villardin concluded that I was seriously ill. The next
morning early I found a surgeon in my room, who, informing me that he
had been sent for to attend me, felt my pulse and proposed to bleed
me. Although I knew that the malady which affected me had nothing to
do with my corporeal frame, and that, unless he could give medicine to
my mind, the most skilful son of Esculapius could effect no ultimate
cure upon me, yet I suffered him to do his will, and perhaps did feel
relieved in some degree from the sort of burning headache which I
experienced, as the blood flowed from the vein, and my frame began to
grow weaker from the loss of that fluid which had been flowing like
liquid fire through every limb.
As we were to set out for the army, however, at mid-day, I went in
search of Monsieur de Villardin as soon as the operation was over;
and, notwithstanding all his remonstrances, insisted upon accompanying
him, declaring that I felt better for the bleeding, and should soon be
quite well. Not long after, my commission arrived; and, having by this
time given up all thought of making the Count de Laval the victim of
my disappointment, I set out for the camp with the stern and gloomy
determination of never returning from the field alive. I will do my
duty, I thought, in every respect; and, by exposing myself on all
occasions wherever danger is to be found, I shall surely at length be
enabled to gain that fate, which will set these warring passions at
rest for ever.
According to the rule which I have laid down for myself, I shall speak
of the events of my military career as briefly as possible. Our
regiment had been quartered in the neighbourhood of Senlis; and, as
the inferior officers were generally steady and experienced, we found
it already in marching order when we arrived. By this time, Turenne
had determined to open the campaign by an attack upon some of the
enemy's towns in Flanders, and--being joined at Condé by Monsieur de
Villardin, with our own regiment and two or three others, which were
now united under his command,--that great general first marched upon
Tournay. Finding, however, that he had been deceived in regard to the
state of preparation of that town, he instantly fell back upon Condé,
and thence marched direct for Valenciennes, which was invested the
night of his arrival.
Two redoubts were the only defences which obstructed our first
approaches; and, having volunteered to attack them, I here made my
first essay in that headlong and incautious plan of action, upon which
I had determined as the means of winning both glory and the grave.
However much the first object might be gained, I soon found that fate
seemed capriciously resolved to disappoint me of the second. In
forcing my way into the redoubts, through one of the most tremendous
cross fires that ever I beheld, twenty or thirty of my men fell around
me in every direction,--scarcely one of the whole storming party
escaped without some injury; but, at the end of five minutes, I, who
had been madly rash in every part of the action, found myself standing
unhurt in the midst of the conquered redoubts, with nothing but death
and destruction around me on every side. When the whole was settled, I
returned towards the camp, and was immediately admitted to the
presence of Monsieur de Turenne, who had watched the attack till the
affair was decided, and who now, in the presence of his staff, gave me
high praises for my conduct throughout the evening. The moment after,
however, he added, "I wish to show you something, my young friend,
which perhaps you can execute to-morrow morning--I will be back
directly, gentlemen," he added, turning to the other officers, several
of whom had risen to accompany him, but now paused at this intimation
of his desire to go alone, and then taking his hat and cane, he led me
to a little mound, at a short distance from his tent, where, being
quite without witnesses, his whole aspect immediately changed, and he
addressed me with a severe and frowning brow, "You have been rash,
sir," he said, "extremely rash; and what is more, I perceive you know
it. Remember, sir, that courage and temerity are as different as wit
and impertinence, and that however much you may choose to expose
your own person, you have no right to expose the troops of his
Majesty."
Thus saying, he turned upon his heel, and was leaving me; but the
expression of bitter mortification which his words had produced upon
my countenance touched him, and he came back. "Monsieur de Juvigny,"
he said, "I am angry with you, because I know you can do better than
you have done this day. I do not absolutely disapprove of a young man
risking somewhat more than necessary in his own person, but I do
strongly disapprove of his acting rashly when in a command, such as
that entrusted to you this evening. You may receive it as a mark of
personal regard that I did not choose to blame you publicly; but, at
the same time, do not let that circumstance deprive this admonition of
any of its force, and take care to be more prudent for the future."
Although the reproof I had received was certainly well merited, and
sunk deep into my memory, I nevertheless resolved to expose my own
person as much as ever, though at the same time I saw the necessity of
being more careful of my troops. For many days, time seemed to have no
effect upon the bitter and painful feelings which had taken possession
of my heart, and despair was my constant companion. Gloomy,
melancholy, and reserved, I avoided the society of my fellow officers;
and at night when I was in my tent, I gave myself up to sombre
meditations, which consumed in vain regrets the greater part of those
hours that should have been devoted to sleep. Not that I did not court
slumber with all my heart, for while I was asleep was the only time
that I could feel happy, though it was but the happiness of inanition.
In order, however, to gain such repose, I was obliged to labour
throughout the whole day, and completely to exhaust the body before I
could calm the mind.
From morning till night I was either on horseback, or working as a
volunteer in the trenches, or, accompanied by little Clement de la
Marke, visiting the different posts, and endeavouring to give him a
thorough and practical knowledge of the duties of a soldier. Wherever
the thickest of the enemy's fire was directed, there I was still to be
found; yet as I showed myself careful of my troops, my conduct now
drew down upon me great praise, although the motive, I am afraid, was
the same as before.
My little page was indeed a great comfort to me, for quick, lively,
inquiring, while he was with me, he gave constant occupation to my
mind, and from his prompt powers of apprehension, pleased and
delighted, while he furnished me with matter for indifferent thought,
and filled the painful moments of leisure. For the first ten days,
indeed, of the siege of Valenciennes, we were in no want of employment,
for the garrison took every means which skill and resolution could
suggest or execute to delay our progress or to compel us to abandon
the attempt. As the force within the walls was but small, an effort
was immediately made to throw a reinforcement into the place, and this
proving vain, means were taken to inundate a great part of the ground
within our lines. To remedy this, the cavalry was constantly employed
for several days in carrying fascines, for the purpose of forming
both a floating bridge and a dike across the inundation, which was
not effected without infinite difficulty and loss of time. A worse
result also ensued, in consequence of the extensive inundation
which the enemy had been able to effect; a violent fever broke out
in the camp, and one of the first persons attacked was my poor
little page. I loved the boy most sincerely, and I had taken a sort
of sad pleasure in winning his affection by every means, and in
fancying that _he_ at least would regret me bitterly when I was gone.
I now, however, soon saw him reduced to the brink of the grave, and
every moment that I could spare, I passed by his bedside. The poor
little fellow, restless and delirious, still retained all his
gentleness and affection. He would receive his remedies from no
hand but mine, and often in the night when he saw me watching by
him, he would beg me--in sentences confused and incoherent enough,
indeed--to lie down and take my rest without minding him.
The time I spent with him was not lost to my mind; for, whether there
was something monitory in the sight of a fellow being fluttering for
days upon the very verge of eternity, or whether my better feelings
were themselves struggling up by their own strength, I cannot tell;
but I began to reflect upon my late conduct, and to view it in a
different light from that which I had done at first. Reason soon
showed me that the rash purpose of courting danger, which I had
entertained, was, in fact, but a specious kind of suicide, a crime for
which I had both a great contempt, and a great detestation; and after
many a painful night of thought, I arrived at the conclusion which I
should have reached at first, if passion had not overpowered my
understanding. I found that I was bound by every tie to conquer the
love which had so mastered my judgment, to banish for ever the dream
that had bewildered me; and, if I could not succeed in crushing my own
feelings, at least to conceal them most scrupulously. I went farther:
I determined to act towards Laura and her father as if such sensations
did not exist,--neither to avoid their society, nor to let them
discover, by any means, that a change had come over my heart. I knew
and felt that the attempt would be most agonising, but I fancied that
the human mind could perform any task which it undertook, and thus,
even with better purposes, I was again led into error. I scarcely know
whether I was not deceiving myself, and whether from the first there
was not mingling with all my reasoning the latent desire of seeing,
once more at least, the being that I most loved on earth. I scarcely
know, even now, whether it was so, or whether my designs were purely
good and firm; for, of all the things that God has created, there is
none so subtle as the human heart. At all events, this book is one of
confessions as well as of memoirs, and the facts shall be told as they
arose. Let others judge the motives, for no man yet, in every point,
has judged himself justly.
At the end of nine or ten days, my young companion showed signs of
amendment, and the surgeon strongly admonished me to turn my cares to
my own health. It became necessary, indeed, that I should be more
frequently absent from Clement's bedside, for duties of a different
kind now called for constant exertions. By this time, the Spanish
army, commanded by the Prince de Condé, had approached within sight of
our lines of circumvallation, and it was evident to all who knew that
great general, that an attack upon our camp would soon follow. At what
point the assault would be made, of course, no one could tell; and,
with the small force at our command, it was impossible to guard every
part of the great extent of lines. Our infantry did not amount in all
to above twelve thousand men, and what with those employed in carrying
on the two separate attacks, which were going on against the town, and
with those employed on other duty, a great part of our entrenchments
were left exposed. Under these circumstances, and expecting every hour
to see Condé attempt to force our camp, Turenne employed the cavalry
to watch the lines continually, while three regiments of infantry were
constantly held in readiness to march to whatever point should be
ultimately assailed. All these precautions, however, were unavailing.
The Maréchal de la Ferté, haughty, presumptuous, and jealous,
neglected the warnings and counsels of Turenne; and Condé, well
knowing which of the generals he was most likely to find unprepared,
determined to attack the quarters of the former. My regiment had been
on duty during the whole day, and after informing Monsieur de Turenne
that I had seen demonstrations on the part of the enemy of a
determination to pass the Scheldt, and attack the Maréchal de la
Ferté, I retired to my tent for the night. It was the first evening
that Clement had risen from his bed, and after supper I went into his
part of the tent, and sat with him for about half an hour, listening
to all the gay visions which the prospect of returning health called
up in his mind, when suddenly I heard a sharp discharge of musketry
from the side of Azin. Well understanding what it meant, I rushed out,
got my men under arms, and, springing on horseback, rode towards the
tent of Monsieur de Turenne, while the flashes and the report both
showed that the enemy were already in the quarters of Monsieur de la
Ferté. I found Monsieur de Villardin with the general, and both as
calm as if they had been going to their beds.
Turenne was in the act of ordering two regiments of infantry to cross
the dike and the bridge of fascines, and support the Maréchal de la
Ferté, ere he (Turenne) could himself arrive with a stronger
reinforcement.
"Monsieur de Villardin," he added, "I beg that you will remain here,
and attend to the safety of the lines between the river Rouelle and
the Chemin de Mons. Monsieur de Juvigny, his Highness the Prince de
Condé is not a man to make this attack without securing some diversion
in his favour. Lead your regiment down to support the troops of
Loraine and the household forces, and bid them be upon the alert, for
it would not surprise me if Don Juan or the Count de Marsin beat up
their quarters."
I lost no time in obeying the orders, while the continued fire from
Mont Azin showed me that the business was not yet concluded in that
direction. Ere I had reached the quarters of Loraine, however, a few
straggling shots from the lines in the neighbourhood of the little
river Rouelle showed me that Turenne had not been mistaken, when he
anticipated an attack on his side of the town likewise. I was at that
moment within five hundred yards of that part of the lines; and as
there was a good open space before me for the man[oe]uvres of cavalry,
I halted the regiment, and rode on to ascertain how matters went. The
next instant I met a company of infantry hurrying up; but before they
could reach the palisade, it had been forced by the troops of the
enemy at several points; and though the night was very dark, I could
plainly perceive a strong body of Spanish infantry pushing forward by
the side of the river. As the force already on the ground could offer
no sufficient opposition to their progress, I felt it my duty to bring
up the regiment, and make head against the enemy where first I met
them. Our own company of foot gave them one discharge, just as I was
approaching at the full trot; and taking advantage of some small
confusion which this produced, I charged, and with very little
difficulty drove them once more beyond the lines.
The adversary's force was at this point but small; and probably their
object was more to occupy the troops of Turenne, and effect a
diversion in favour of the attack of Condé, than really to attempt the
relief of the town. By the time, however, that we had contrived to
drive them back beyond the palisade, a regiment of infantry arrived to
our support; and judging that the camp was now safe in that quarter, I
proceeded to obey my first orders, and marched forward to join the
household troops. As I rode on, I remarked that the firing had almost
ceased in the quarters of Monsieur de la Ferté, and I was led to hope
that the adversary had also been repulsed there. A moment after,
however, the sound of loud acclamations from the town, and a
tremendous fire opened upon our trenches--which had been pushed to the
edge of the fosse--showed me at once that the city had been relieved.
Before I had proceeded a hundred yards farther, I met Monsieur de
Turenne galloping back at the head of his guards; and he demanded,
somewhat hastily, what had delayed me so long. I had never been famous
for using many words, and I now replied, in as few as possible, that I
had found the lines by the side of the lesser stream attacked and
carried by the enemy, and that I had but paused to charge, and drive
them out.
"You did right," replied the Marshal, with a smile; "Monsieur de la
Ferté has been unfortunate--the town is relieved--we must retreat; but
there is no danger," he added, in a louder tone, "if the men will but
show the calm courage of true Frenchmen."
I must confess that a good deal of confusion now succeeded. Turenne
endeavoured instantly to withdraw his troops from the trenches; but
notwithstanding all his skill and all his coolness, an immense number
were lost. Condé and the forces from the town pressed upon us hard;
but, nevertheless, we had sufficient time to evacuate the lines, and
secure the principal part of our baggage and artillery, without any
great annoyance from the enemy. My first care was to get poor little
Clement upon a wagon, and to see him safely out of the camp, in which
the panic and haste of a night engagement was spreading much more
confusion than necessary. As soon as the baggage and artillery were
secure, Turenne made no further attempt to maintain his position, but,
merely presenting a bold front to the enemy whenever he saw the
likelihood of a renewed attack, he caused regiment after regiment to
evacuate the lines, remaining himself till the last man had quitted
them.
When we were once out of the camp, and in free and open ground, order
and tranquillity were soon restored; and so skilfully did Turenne
conduct his march, that the enemy, though now infinitely superior to
ourselves in number, did not dare to attack us.
The rest of the incidents of that campaign were certainly interesting
enough to military men; but as it is my own history, and not the
history of Europe, that I am writing, I must turn once more to the
subject of self. There now existed a continual struggle in my mind, in
order to familiarise my thoughts with the idea of Laura de Villardin
becoming the wife of another. I tried to impress upon my heart, as it
was already impressed upon my understanding, that she never could be
mine, and that her hand must be bestowed upon the Count de Laval; and
I fancied that, by continually keeping this image before my eyes,
while I daily exercised my resolution by the contemplation, I should
be able to tranquillize the pain I suffered, and even to quell my love
by the certainty of its hopelessness. In some degree, I certainly
succeeded--if, indeed, I may so call it; for the object that I
attained was very different from that which I strove for. I did not
remove one pang from my heart, but I learned to bear them; I did not
in the least diminish my love, or for a moment forget her that
inspired it, but I learned the means of concealing it within my own
bosom, and hiding its existence, in some sort, even from myself. What
was, perhaps, worse than all, at least in its effect, I lulled myself
in an imaginary security; fancied that I could command both my
feelings and my actions; and determined that, however much I might
suffer internally, I would behave in every respect as if no feelings
but those of fraternal regard actuated me towards Laura de Villardin.
The delusion was one which nothing but love could enable a man to
practise on himself, especially after having marked, with keen and
interested eyes, in my early youth, the very same conduct pursued by
Lord Masterton, and having seen how entirely it had failed.
Nevertheless, the deception with myself was quite complete; and
though, perhaps, I had that degree of apprehension in regard to my own
resolutions, which would have made me very willingly remain with the
army, even in winter quarters, had such a thing been required, yet I
had so taught myself to believe that it was absolutely necessary for
me to act entirely as an indifferent person, that I took not the
slightest step to obtain any of those small appointments, which would
have been granted me at once, and which would have afforded a fair
excuse for absenting myself from a place so dangerous to my peace.
It must not, however, be thought that, on all days and at all times,
during the six months we spent with the army, my feelings or
resolutions remained in the same state. Quite the contrary; though I
have detailed what was the general result, yet my mood and my thoughts
were in a continual state of fluctuation; and a thousand trifles would
occur, from day to day, to give a new course to my sentiments, in
which they would remain for a few hours, and then, after calm
reflection, would be overruled by my former determinations. Thus, many
a time, a casual word from Monsieur de Villardin, or from little
Clement de la Marke, concerning her I loved, her conduct during the
past, or her prospects for the future, would throw me back into one of
my fits of wild despair; and, forgetting every better thought, I would
rush into the very teeth of danger, and court death, like a madman,
wherever he was to be found. Then, again, I would fall into deep and
gloomy musings, which would occupy me for whole days; and then I would
almost be tempted to commit a greater act of madness than all, and,
acknowledging my love and my despair, pour out my blood at her feet.
All these paroxysms, however, lasted but their time; and still
reflection restored to me my former determinations, which gradually
became more and more fixed, as, passing through the rest of the
campaign, I followed Turenne in all his brilliant movements and
successful enterprises, till at length, in the end of November, the
army re-entered France, was dispersed in winter quarters in Picardy,
and I returned with Monsieur de Villardin to Paris.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
It happened, perhaps fortunately, that Monsieur de Villardin's new
station in the army had prevented my being with him so continually as
during our former campaigns. Thus the great change that had taken
place in my habits and my feelings had not been so constantly brought
before him as it otherwise would have been. It had not, however,
passed without remark; and the consequences were totally different
from those which would most probably have followed, had he known the
causes of the melancholy that oppressed me. The desire of keeping me
near him, which he had expressed on my last return to Brittany, was
now increased to a positive determination of not suffering me to be
absent from him; and, when I faintly proposed to remain behind him in
Paris, and to see somewhat of the Court, in which were now just
bursting forth the dawnings of that full blaze of magnificence which
it ultimately displayed, he laid his hand affectionately upon my arm,
replying--"No, no, my dear Juvigny; you must come with me into the
calm quiet of the country. You have over-exerted both your mind and
your body; and I see that you are always better and happier when you
are with me in Brittany."
I had not strength of mind to say no; and, besides, I had persuaded
myself that neither danger nor harm could accrue from my following the
course he pointed out. We returned, therefore, to Brittany, after a
very short stay in Paris. The journey seemed an eternity; and, when
once I was embarked in it, more than one misgiving as to my own
resolution and firmness certainly did cross my heart. It was now,
however, too late to retreat; and at length the carnage stopped before
the grey towers of the Prés Vallée. Our coming had been notified
beforehand; and Laura instantly ran out to welcome her father. It
seemed to me that every hour since I had left her had added some new
charm to features that before had seemed perfection; had given some
additional grace to a form which had before appeared in my eyes
symmetry itself. From her father she turned to me; but I felt her
hand tremble in mine, and her cheek burned as my lips touched it. Her
eyes, too, sought the ground of the terrace; and her words of welcome
were warm, indeed, but faltering and low. Everything told me that the
discovery which had taken place in my own heart had been made also by
hers, and that, whether she could return my affection or not, she was
no longer unconscious of my love. It is scarcely possible to explain
what were my feelings at that moment. I was agitated--I was even
pained; and yet the joy of seeing her again, and, perhaps, a fancy,
too, that my affection was not without return, were sufficient to
outweigh, for the moment, all the apprehensions, and sorrows, and
anxieties which were cast into the other scale. Her first
embarrassment wore away in an instant; and it was easy to see that,
whatever she had discovered, none of the pains and sorrows which had
become so familiar to my mind, had, as yet, presented themselves to
her eyes.
While little Clement de la Marke was claiming his share of welcome,
Monsieur de Villardin and I turned to meet Father Ferdinand, who was
now coming out to receive us. I had not seen him for nearly three
years; and that space of time seemed to have effected a greater change
in him than in any of the rest of the party, with the exception,
indeed, of Laura, who, from a sweet, graceful girl, had grown into a
beautiful woman. He was now, certainly, an old man; and a considerable
inclination of his head, marked, but not undignified, had taken near
two inches from his height since last I saw him. He embraced me as a
father would do a son, and asked me anxiously what was the cause of
the sad change he remarked in my once robust and muscular frame? As he
spoke, I saw Laura's eyes seek mine with an expression of anxiety and
apprehension which was painfully sweet to my heart. She spoke not,
however; and I replied to Father Ferdinand, attempting to smile gaily
as I did so.
"You must remember, my good Father," I answered, "I am no longer a
boy, and may well be expected to lose the plump, smooth-faced
roundness of my youth: besides, I have seen some hard service; and
more than eighteen years which I have now spent--ever more or less in
the tented field--may well be supposed to take away a great deal from
one's youthful freshness."
Laura sighed deeply, and Father Ferdinand gravely shook his head; and
I could see distinctly that neither the one nor the other gave credit
to the reasons I assigned for my altered appearance. No more
questions, however, were asked; and all the bustle and the little
tittle-tattle of a first arrival in the country carried us well and
lightly over the evening. I dreaded, it is true, the coming of the
next morning; for now that I was in the midst of the peril, I had
become apprehensive of myself; I felt that each night I should have to
thank God if I had done nothing wrong; I felt that every day would
bring a renewed struggle against myself; I felt that I should look to
every sunrise with dread, lest I should fail in resolution during the
coming day. Even the sweetest and dearest feelings of my heart were
causes of apprehension. Every look, every word, of Laura de Villardin
was to me a subject of delight, so bright, so deep, that, conscious of
all which was going on within my bosom, I feared the joy I felt in her
society would each instant betray itself to others. But that fear was
not all that embittered the enjoyment. I felt now but too keenly that
I was nurturing a passion which must end in misery; and that the
sweet, sweet draught, which I was draining to the dregs, was mingled
with poison which must speedily take effect. Yet now that I grasped
the cup, with the full knowledge of all that it contained, I would not
have resigned it for a world till the last drop had been drained. I
listened to the tones of her voice, I hung upon her every smile; and
when, during the evening, with her fair arms thrown round little
Clement de la Marke, she listened while the boy repeated
enthusiastically how very very kind I had been to him during his
illness, I gazed upon her beaming countenance till she turned her eyes
towards me with a look of sweet applause; and the feelings of my heart
becoming too overpowering to be mastered, I quitted the room hastily,
lest the mingled emotions should make a woman of me, and overflow at
my eyes.
How the night passed, it were useless to relate. Agitation such as I
felt, sleeps but little; and with the grey dawn, I plunged into the
woods and wandered on wildly, seeking to gain command over myself ere
I encountered any of the family. For nearly two hours I pursued a
varying and irregular path, avoiding the hamlets and scattered
cottages that here and there sheltered themselves in the edges of the
wood surrounding the Prés Vallée, and walking on, now quick, now slow,
amongst the gloom of the old trees, and by the dim banks of the silent
stream. Bitter, bitter was my commune with my own heart, and little
way did I make in the attempt to vanquish emotions that seemed to
become more turbulent under reflection. Following solely as my guide
the desire of avoiding a meeting with any human being, I scarcely knew
which way I turned, till at length I found myself within a few yards
of the grave of the unhappy Count de Mesnil. Some impulse, I do not
well know what,--whether there was a latent sympathy in my bosom with
the love, however mad and vicious, which had been expiated by his
death, or whether there was alone that thirst of calm repose which was
to be found nowhere but in the grave, I cannot tell,--but some impulse
caused me to cast myself down upon the turf that covered his remains,
and, giving way to all the bitterest feelings of my heart, I wept
aloud, fervently wishing that I might soon find a quiet resting-place
like that.
Ere I had been there a moment, I heard a flutter of female garments
bending over me; and raising my eyes, I beheld Laura de Villardin with
her eyes full of tears at the suffering which she saw me endure
without being able to account for. I started up, and, in the agitation
of the moment, gazed upon her without salutation, while she
exclaimed,--"Oh, tell me--do tell me, dear De Juvigny, what is it
makes you so unhappy?"
My firmness was gone before--my good resolution vanished, and pressing
the hand that she held out to me to my lips and to my heart, I told
her all--how deeply, how passionately I loved her. With the warm blood
crimson over her cheek and forehead, she sank down in my arms and hid
her face upon my bosom, while a tear or two sprang up in her eyes, and
shone like living diamonds amongst her long dark eyelashes. It was but
for a moment that, yielding to woman's first impulse, she hid her
face; but then, raising her look to mine, as, sitting on the very
grave of De Mesnil, I held her circled in my arms, she asked,--"And
is that all? Do I not love you too?"
The hardest and bitterest part of the task was still to come. I had to
tell her how hopeless was our love, which her ignorance of the world
had not suffered her to perceive; and although I thought I had no
right to inform her that her father destined her for another, which I
found he himself had not yet communicated, yet I had to explain to her
that our union was quite impossible.
"But are we not very happy as we are?" she asked. "Why make yourself
wretched by thinking of what you acknowledge cannot be? Why not let us
live on as we now are, loving each other more dearly than anything
else in life--seeing each other every day--spending our whole days
together? Why not let us live thus, and be as happy as we have
hitherto been?"
I had to crush the bright bubble for ever. "But," I said, "when you
are required to marry some other, Laura, what will then become of me?"
"Oh, but I will never marry any one else!" she replied, eagerly: "no,
no, I love you; and if I cannot marry you, of course no one else shall
ever have my hand!"
"But listen to me, dear Laura," I replied. "Suppose your father makes
it a command; can you disobey? Suppose he comes to you and tells you
that he has plighted his word and engaged his honour that you shall be
the bride of some man equal in fortune and station to yourself--will
you refuse to redeem his pledge? will you offend him for ever, and
bring upon him the imputation of breaking his word? Can you do it,
Laura?"
She wept bitterly, and I felt that those tears were a sufficient
reply; I was gaining more firmness myself, also, from the very
arguments I used; and I went on.--"No, no, dear Laura, we must both
try to do our duty: I love you beyond everything on earth; and it
would nearly destroy me to see you the wife of another: but yet let us
make up our minds to that which cannot be avoided. We can never
forget, we can never wholly cease to love each other; but we must make
an effort to conquer our love, at least so far as to render it no
longer dangerous or wrong: we must try to rule it by reason and by
resolution, and to reduce it, if possible, to that affection which
brother and sister may feel towards each other."
"Then you must help me--then you must guide me, De Juvigny," she
replied; "you must teach me that which is right to do; for I feel,
indeed I feel that I am incapable of guiding myself."
"It is a terrible task, Laura--it is a terrible task," I
replied--"for a heart that loves like mine, to teach you how our love
is to be conquered; and yet the very responsibility will, I trust,
enable me to execute it well: but, hark! I hear a step," and I
started up.
"It is only Lise," she replied: "I sent her back for a book; but she
knows all about it. She first told me I loved you months ago."
I wished no _confidantes_ to a passion so hopeless as ours; but ere I
could think, Lise was too near us to avoid her, and Laura's eyes told
too distinctly a part of our story, to leave her ignorant of the
remainder. She was a good and affectionate, but somewhat romantic
creature; and though the suivante would have been the last to counsel
her mistress to anything that she believed to be wrong, yet she had
too much knowledge of the human heart to believe that a deep-rooted
passion could ever be eradicated by the means that we proposed to
employ; and her notions of what would be proper under such cases were
likewise very different from ours. As soon as, by one means or
another, she had made herself mistress of all that had passed, and had
heard our difficulties and our resolutions, she shook her head,
exclaiming,--"That will never do! No, no, Monsieur de Juvigny, there
is only one way for it. Such love as yours and Mademoiselle's is not
to be conquered as you think, and it must have its way, or worse will
come of it. I have been thinking ever since you were here last, of
what would be best to do, for I very well saw the whole business then,
and quite understood that Monsieur the Duc would never consent.
However, I have a scheme for you; you must marry privately: I know a
good priest at Rennes who will undertake to perform the ceremony; and
then, when it is found out, which it certainly will be in time,
Monsieur de Villardin will be very angry at first, of course; but then
he will soon forgive you, and it will be all settled."
Laura was silent; and as her hand rested on my arm, I could feel it
tremble violently. For my part, I own that--though poor Lise meant no
harm--yet, had she been the very fiend himself, she could not have
tempted me more dreadfully. Honour, however, overcame; and after a
long, painful pause, I answered,--"No, no, Lise! Monsieur de
Villardin is my friend, my benefactor, my more than father, and I
cannot betray his trust."
"But is not Mademoiselle, here, your friend, your love, and your more
than sister?" answered Lise, laughing; "and will you make her unhappy
for ever? But never mind; I knew that you would talk a great deal of
that kind of nonsense whenever I came to propose it; but you'll see
you will both be of my opinion before a fortnight be over, and then it
will be,--'Pray, good Lise, seek the priest;' and as I am the best
creature in the world, I _will_ seek the priest. So when you have made
up your minds to do the only thing that can save you both from a great
deal of unhappiness, let me know, and I will arrange all the rest."
Thus saying, she turned away and walked a short distance towards the
château, in order to leave Laura and myself time to speak together
alone. As soon as she was gone, the dear girl raised her eyes to mine,
and said,--"We must not do it, De Juvigny--we must not do it! It
would be very happy, doubtless, to know that nothing could ever
separate us, but it would be at the expense of your honour and my
duty, and we must not do it. But, hark! there is the breakfast hour
striking: we must go back separate; but you must, indeed you must tell
me how I am to act, and what I am to do, to conquer all these
feelings, and guard myself against wrong. We will walk out together
to-morrow morning, as we used to do, and you shall give me my lesson."
But consciousness had, as usual, taken from me my bold firmness. I was
not certain that any step that I was taking was right, and therefore I
dreaded that any one should discover all that was passing between
myself and Laura. "It will be better, dear Laura," I replied, "for us
to meet in some part of the woods--at all events till we have fully
determined the line of conduct we are to pursue. Let us have time to
think and judge for ourselves before any one else perceives our
feelings towards each other, and assumes the right of judging for us.
Where shall I meet you to-morrow?"
"Since you have been away," she answered, "I have been much in the
habit of coming out in the summer mornings to read under this tree. It
is one of the finest round about, and if you remark, there is a little
kind of rise in the soft turf at its foot, which serves me for a
seat."
It was the grave of Monsieur de Mesnil to which she pointed; and
certainly the memories connected with that spot did not render the
feelings of my heart less sad. I replied, however, "Well, let us meet
here: we are less likely to be disturbed here, perhaps, than
elsewhere."
"That was one of the reasons why I used to love the place," replied
Laura: "I never found any one here yet but Father Ferdinand, whom I
one day saw kneeling at his beads beneath this tree; but it is almost
always lonely, and I used to come here with a book, and sometimes read
a little; but more often think of you and my father, and pray God to
shield you both from all the dangers of the war. Let us part, however,
now; for it is growing late, and I must wash my eyes before any one
sees me."
I pressed her to my heart, and I pressed my lips to hers--I acted very
wrong in so doing, I know; but, as I have said, this book is a
confession, and therefore I tell all--I pressed her to my heart, and I
pressed my lips to hers, and then we parted, to meet again the next
morning at the same spot.
My next private interview was one with Father Ferdinand. I saw, during
breakfast, that he was anxious to speak with me; but the feeling of
consciousness to which I have before referred, made me as desirous of
avoiding any particular conversation with him now as I had formerly
been willing and pleased to enjoy his society alone. As soon as the
meal was over, then, I turned, as if to seek my own apartments, but in
reality intending to take my hat and once more go out into the park.
So well acquainted, however, was Father Ferdinand with the turns of
the human heart, and the actions that all those various turns are
likely to produce, that he met me at the gate at the very moment I was
setting out; and, laying his hand upon my arm, he said, "I am about to
take my walk with you, my son."
I had now no excuse for avoiding his society, and we walked on
together, proceeding for the first few minutes in silence. He then
began the conversation by telling me that he felt deeply and
personally all the care and kindness that I had bestowed upon Clement
de la Marke. "I have spoken with the little fellow long this morning,"
he said, "and from all that he has told me, I must say that, had you
been his own father, or his brother, you could not have shown him more
judicious kindness."
I knew the good priest too well, and the exact proportion of kindly
subtlety which tempered a disposition that was naturally candid, to
believe that his sole object in thus forcing me, as it were, into a
private interview with him, was to commend my behaviour to the little
page. Nevertheless, though I understood all this very well, yet he
went on so long and so skilfully, speaking upon that subject, and the
events of the campaign alone, that I was thrown off my guard, and
found myself detailing many of the occurrences that had taken place,
more at large than I had intended, or perhaps desired. Observing me
pause, as I found this to be the case, he replied, quietly, "It seems
to me, my son, that in this last campaign you have exposed yourself a
great deal more than was at all necessary; and, indeed, Clement has
told me that you did so to such a degree, that it became a common
observation, amongst both officers and soldiers, that you were _seeking
death_. Tell me, my son," he added, in a more emphatic tone--"tell me,
if you love me, what is the cause of that deep despondency, which you
cannot conceal from one who, like myself, has watched you, with the
affection of a father, for many years."
I felt that to deny the despondency was vain, and I did not choose to
prevaricate concerning its cause. I replied, therefore, at once, "You
must not ask me, my good father. At some time--and that ere long--I
will tell you the whole. But rest satisfied at present with knowing
that though, perhaps, as it seems was too apparent, I did seek Death
wherever he was to be found, yet I have now learned to think better;
and, whatever I may suffer, will make such frantic attempts no more."
"I trust that it will be so," replied Father Ferdinand--"I trust that
it will be so. As you tell me not the cause of your suffering--and I
will not pretend to know it--I can of course offer you no spiritual
consolation; nevertheless, I can perhaps yield you some of a worldly
kind. Therefore, let me beg you to remember, before you make yourself
miserable about anything that this earth contains, that those things
which seem the most hopeless are often, by a slight change of
circumstances, brought within our reach. Let my own history be a
warning to you. Born to a high rank, and to a princely fortune, from
an early disappointment I abjured station, wealth, and the world,
concealed myself in the cells of a foreign monastery, and when, at the
end of twenty years, I came forth again in the humble state in which
you now see me, I discovered that had I but paused three months ere I
rendered my fate irrevocable, every obstacle which lay in my way would
have been removed, and that all I sought might have been mine. Let it
be a lesson to you, young man, and learn never to despair. Now,
farewell; and when you are inclined to make me your confidant, you
will always find that you have a sincere friend."
Thus saying, he turned away, and left me to pursue my walk alone. What
he told me was, indeed, intended to produce a good effect; but,
nevertheless, the consequences might have been very evil. He raised up
again hopes that were better crushed. He conjured up dreams that were
only calculated to mislead; and for the first half hour, believing
that he had seen the real cause of all I suffered, and thought it
right, from some other knowledge that I did not possess, to encourage
my hopes, I gave myself up to visions of joy. Then, however, came the
remembrance that Monsieur de Villardin had promised the hand of his
daughter to the Count de Laval; and recollecting that he had not
informed Laura herself of the fact, I saw clearly that he had not
informed Father Ferdinand either. The good Priest, then, I concluded,
had seen our love; and not knowing the engagement which bound the Duke
to another, had believed that he might be moved by our mutual
affection. Thus fled, once more, all my brilliant dreams; for I was
too thoroughly acquainted with Monsieur de Villardin's stern adherence
to his word, to believe that any circumstance would make him even
think of withdrawing it.
That day passed without any farther incident of note. The next morning
I again met Laura de Villardin; and each day, during the whole week
that followed, we failed not to spend at least two or three hours
together--I may call it alone; for Lise, who accompanied her,
generally left us till it was time to part. It must not be thought,
however, that these clandestine meetings were devoted to thoughts or
feelings that all the world might not have witnessed. They were
foolish, I grant, and only served to nourish the passion that we
believed we were taking means and laying schemes to overcome. The
proposal that Lise had made of a private marriage was never again
mentioned between us. We never encouraged each other with false hopes,
but admitted to our own hearts, in the fullest degree, that no chance
existed of our union. The delight of being together we certainly did
possess; and it was doubtless the secret desire of retaining at least
that blessing which blinded our eyes to the imprudence of our
continual meetings.
Our whole conversations were devoted to forming determinations of
future firmness and resolution, mingled, indeed, with many a tear and
many a caress; but certainly--however weak was our conduct--however
much we suffered ourselves to be deceived by our own wishes--our
intentions at least were good throughout the whole.
Thus passed the time, as painfully as it could well be conceived,
till, one morning, as we were returning towards the château, while
Laura--as we were still at some distance from the house--was hanging
upon my arm, the form of Father Ferdinand appeared at a little
distance in the alley before us. He saw us, beyond doubt, for he
paused, turned out of the way he was pursuing, and left us to proceed
to the house without speaking to us. What might be the event I knew
not, but I saw him no more till supper, at which everything passed
tranquilly, and we separated for the night.
CHAPTER XXXV.
I was sitting musing in my room, about an hour after supper, when the
door opened, and Father Ferdinand appeared. He was evidently a good
deal agitated, and seemed scarcely able to speak to me.
"My son," he said, taking both my hands, and gazing anxiously in my
face,--"my son, I am afraid you have done wrong."
I understood him at once, and replied, "No, father, I have not; unless
to struggle against every feeling of my heart, which prompted me to
ingratitude and deceit,--unless, I say, to struggle against such
feelings be evil,--I have not done wrong."
He raised his right hand, while he still held mine in his left,
saying, solemnly,--"Thank God for that. I at least have acted wrong,"
he added: "I once gave you hope without clearly knowing whither that
hope might lead you. I now know all; and, I tell you, you must
despair."
"Father," I replied, "I have never entertained a hope. I knew that you
were unacquainted with my situation, and the dreams you raised lasted
but half an hour."
"Forgive me for having raised them at all," he said; "and now, mark
me; you must speak with Monsieur de Villardin----Nay, indeed you must:
he already expects you. Give me but five minutes to speak with him
more at length, and then follow me to the library."
I would fain have asked more: I would fain have discovered what, or
rather how much, Monsieur de Villardin knew; but there were so many
contending emotions in my bosom that I was afraid my voice would be
choked ere I could put my questions, and I merely replied, "I will."
Without rejoinder, Father Ferdinand left me; and, burying my face on
my arms, I remained in the same state of mind as a condemned criminal
who has just heard an order given for his instant execution. I was not
one, however, to shake before any mortal man. I felt, too, that with
the power to have won happiness for myself by wronging him I was just
about to see, I had sacrificed my own peace rather than act
ungratefully towards him. This feeling nerved my heart for whatever
might come, and by the time that the five minutes were over, I was
slowly descending the great staircase towards the library. I knew not
how Monsieur de Villardin would treat me, and I almost feared, from
some casual traits which I had remarked in his character, that he
might demean himself haughtily towards me. Such a method was not that
calculated to govern or affect one of my disposition; and, as I passed
through the saloon, and crossed the very spot where I had seen Madame
de Villardin stand with the Count de Mesnil, a number of services
which at different times I had rendered to the Duke rose up before my
eyes, and I advanced with a firmer step, from feeling that the balance
of obligation was not altogether against myself. As I passed by the
mirrors, I saw that I was deadly pale; but I could not help that; and,
opening the door, I entered the library with more command over myself
than I had thought I could assume.
Monsieur de Villardin was alone, and striding up and down the room in
a state of agitation that it is impossible to describe. He was at the
farther end of the chamber when I entered, but immediately turned
round and paused for a moment, gazing upon me with a quivering lip. I
took a step or two more forward, and then waited for him to begin; but
he said nothing, and, advancing rapidly towards me, threw his arms
around me as if I had been his child, exclaiming--"Oh! De Juvigny!"
It overpowered me at once: pride--and resolution, and firmness, all
gave way; and I wept like a woman, while he mingled his tears with
mine.
"This is too much," said Monsieur de Villardin. "Sit down, my dear
boy, and let us speak as calmly as possible over an event that has
made me more wretched than you can conceive."
Casting myself into the seat opposite to that in which he usually sat,
I leaned my head forward upon the table, and suffered him to proceed,
while feelings that defy all language struggled fearfully in my bosom.
"De Juvigny," he said, in a low, earnest voice, "my friend, my
benefactor, my more than son--twice have you saved my life, once have
you saved my child, ever have you counselled me aright even as a
boy--you have watched my couch of sickness, you have calmed me in the
moment of passion, you have laboured to prevent me from committing
crime, you have striven to sooth the voice of remorse, you have sought
far and near to find consolation for my grief--and now, what is it I
am called to do? I have to make you miserable. I have to inflict upon
you the bitterest pangs that a heart like yours can suffer. I have to
deny you the only gift which could fittingly recompense the benefits
you have conferred upon me; and all this, because I foolishly engaged
myself by a promise, ere I knew how much misery it would cause to
fulfil it. Believe me, my dear boy,--believe me, upon my honour,--that
were it not for that promise, I would set all the world's maxims of
pride, and ambition, and avarice at nought: and, knowing none so
worthy or so noble as yourself, would bestow upon you my sweet child
as contentedly as if you were a king:--but oh! De Juvigny, that
promise--that fatal promise!"
I did not forget that he had made me, too, a promise in former years,
to grant me any boon that I might ask; and the idea certainly had
crossed my mind, as I had descended to the library, to demand its
execution now. But he had met me so differently from the manner in
which I had expected to be met, that all my feelings were changed in a
moment; and, as he spoke, I could make no reply; for his generous
kindness shook and agitated mc far more than if he had piled upon my
head the bitterest of reproaches.
"Our excellent friend, Father Ferdinand," continued Monsieur de
Villardin, "has pointed out to me the cause of all your conduct
during the last campaign. Strange your behaviour certainly has
appeared in my eyes; and, if I remember right, the change took place
when I told you of the promise I had given, and gave you news that
must have blasted all your hopes for ever."
"My lord, I never entertained a hope," I replied. "Although, I
believe, without boldness, I may say that my race is as noble as your
own, yet I came before you as an exiled adventurer, without home,
without country, without fortune; and most presumptuous would it have
been for me to entertain a hope under such circumstances. The change
in my conduct, or rather the end of my happiness for life, took place
as soon as I discovered what were the feelings which I had been
nourishing in my bosom. It did, perhaps, add somewhat to the load, to
know that Mademoiselle de Villardin was destined to wed a man she did
not love; but that knowledge destroyed no hopes, for I had entertained
none."
Monsieur de Villardin gazed upon me thoughtfully for several minutes,
and then said,--"De Juvigny, I am almost afraid to ask you; yet
answer me sincerely, and fear not that I shall blame you, for I have
been too faulty a being myself to have any title to chide with others
where passion is concerned. Tell me, is Laura acquainted with your
feelings towards her?"
"She is so now, my lord," I answered; "but such was not the case till
our return from the last campaign."
"You have done wrong, De Juvigny," he said, speaking mournfully, but
not harshly; "you have done wrong: but still, as I have said, I have
no right to blame you, for I look upon myself as the cause of all this
unhappiness. I should have been upon my guard; I should have known
that such an intimacy could not go on without ending as it has done;
and I should have taken measures either to warn you yourself, or to
make you happy. I blame you not, therefore, however great might have
been the relief to know that Laura was unacquainted with feelings that
cannot be gratified."
"Believe me, my lord," I answered, "I never intended that she should
be made acquainted with those feelings, and that the discovery of them
was entirely accidental. You will do me the justice, too, I am sure,
to feel confident that my opportunities of seeing and conversing with
Mademoiselle de Villardin have never been employed to make her forget
her duty towards you. On the contrary, our whole thoughts have been
turned to the means of overcoming a passion that we felt to be
hopeless."
"There is but one means, De Juvigny," replied Monsieur de
Villardin,--"there is but one way--to part. To know that I am bound
to wound my daughter's happiness, as well as that of a man I love
better than if he were my own son, is bitter enough; but still it
must be done. My promise is given, and it must not only be held
inviolable, but I must show no hesitation in fulfilling it--no wish
to evade its immediate execution. You and Laura must part, De
Juvigny, and I am sure that on reflection you will find it is better
for you both to do so at once. I trust--I hope--that this passion
has not yet obtained so deep a root in the bosom of either, as not
to yield to the power of reason and the effect of time and absence."
I shook my head, for I felt that such could not be the case; but at
the same time I replied,--"It will be better for us to part, I do
indeed believe, my lord; for, however vain it is to hope that I shall
ever forget, yet my stay here serves no good purpose, and only renders
myself and her I love more miserable. I am ready to set out even this
very night, if you think fit."
"No, no," he said, hastily; "not so, my dear boy: you must not quit my
dwelling as one in disgrace! That I cannot suffer!--especially when I
feel that I owe you atonement for having exposed you to so much
unhappiness, as well as deep gratitude and affection for all that you
have done for me and mine. No,--your departure must be as that of a
well-beloved son, honoured, esteemed, and regretted; and your fortune
must be rendered equal to maintain a high station in society, and to
obtain for you a ready acceptance from the friends of any one on whom
you may hereafter place your affection."
The feelings in my heart were too bitter to permit of my making any
reply for some minutes, but I answered at length,--"I will appeal to
your own heart, my lord, whether those who have loved deeply and truly
ever love twice. But that matters not. In the present instance, you
must permit me to decline any farther gift. I am proud to believe
that, on some occasions, I have rendered your lordship services of
some importance; and deeply gratified to find that you value them at a
higher rate even than they deserve. But if, as you are pleased to say,
you owe me some gratitude, I owe you infinitely more; and though I
love you too deeply and too sincerely to offer to restore those things
which you formerly bestowed upon me, yet I can accept no more,
especially at a moment like this."
"I will not press you then now," replied Monsieur de Villardin; "but
we are not going to part for ever, De Juvigny, and when we meet again,
I shall insist upon that which I wave for the present. But tell me, in
the meantime, what you intend to do with yourself; for of course my
interest in you remains not only unabated, but increased, from all
that has occurred."
"Oh! fear not, my lord," I replied, the bitterness of my heart
mastering me in spite of all my efforts, and drawing from me but an
ungrateful return for the kindness of Monsieur de Villardin; "fear
not, my lord; I shall do well enough. When I first touched the shores
of France, my worldly situation was much less brilliant than it is at
present, though I had, indeed, a lighter heart. I have now lands and
lordships, and a regiment in the service of the King of France. What
need I more?"
"I will tell you, De Juvigny," replied Monsieur de Villardin, laying
his hand kindly upon my arm, and speaking mildly, though somewhat
reproachfully; "I will tell you what you need more than all:--a friend
and companion, who will sooth your sorrows, will divert your griefs
from preying on your own mind, will point out topics of consolation,
will persuade you to think well of those who love you, will endeavour
to make you feel less acutely what it may be impossible to forget,
and, in short, will act towards you in your sorrows the part which you
acted towards me in mine. It grieves me that I cannot be the man to do
so myself; but if you will follow my advice, you will seek out your
friend Lord Masterton, and, from all I have ever heard of him, I think
you will find one who will take a deep interest, in your fate, and
feel the most sincere sympathy for all that afflicts you."
"No, no, my lord," I replied, "it cannot be. Lord Masterton, happy in
his wife and his family, shall not be disturbed by any sorrows of
mine; and, however selfish it may appear, I must confess that the
sight of his domestic tranquillity would but render more painful the
consciousness that such a state can never be mine. There is nothing
fit for my present frame of mind but solitude. I doubt not that
thought and reflection, before I am called upon to resume my duties in
the service, will enable me so far to conquer my regrets and
disappointment as to permit of my mingling in society, without much
pain to myself or any annoyance to others. In the meantime, however,
if your lordship will permit me, I will retire either to Juvigny or to
Dumont, and spend a month or two there in perfect privacy. My little
page Clement will furnish me with society and entertainment enough;
and when, in the course of time," I added, struggling for as much
firmness as I could command,--"and when, in the course of time, the
last irremediable seal is put to the destiny of Mademoiselle de
Villardin and myself, as your lordship will probably be left alone
from time to time, I shall hope to enjoy your society, when it can be
no longer dangerous to myself, or inconsistent with your other
arrangements."
Without making any reply, Monsieur de Villardin took two or three
turns up and down the library, and then, sitting down again, he
said,--"It is better, De Juvigny, to tell you my determination at
once. As my word must be fulfilled, and as I see no object whatever
to be gained by delay, I have resolved that Laura shall give her
hand to the Count de Laval as soon as it be possible to complete
the necessary arrangements."
This was certainly a new pang, but I had already borne so much that
night, that the very habit of suffering enabled me still to endure. I
did think that Monsieur de Villardin was wrong; I did think that it
was even cruel to afford his daughter no time for thought or
consideration, no time to compose her feelings, no time to prepare for
the future or to forget the past. Of course, however, it was not for
me even to suggest an objection, and I merely bowed my head, while
Monsieur de Villardin went on. "As soon as the ceremony is over, I
will write to you and let you know," he said; "and I hope that, from
that moment, you will be able to come to me, and supply the place of
the child from whom I am about to part. In the meantime, you must not
certainly set off till I have seen you to-morrow; and, let me beg you,
my dear Juvigny," he added, grasping my hand, "let me beg of you to
strive for as much firmness as possible. Remember that, though my
honour is dearer to me than life itself, yet that I love you better
than any other thing, and that to make you happy, I would sacrifice
everything--_but my honour_."
"I will do my best, my lord," I replied, "both to be and to appear
firm; and, whatever I now suffer--whatever I may hereafter have to
undergo, your kindness and generosity towards me, in these, as in all
other circumstances, will be the chief consolation, and the brightest
remembrance that I have left."
Thus saying, I rose and turned towards the door; but ere I reached it,
the remembrance that Laura knew nothing of what had taken place during
that evening, and would expect me at our usual place of meeting,
flashed across my mind, and somewhat embarrassed me. However, I could
not entertain the thought for a moment, of showing the slightest
ingratitude or want of confidence to one who had just treated me with
so much kindness and feeling; and, turning at the door, I again
approached Monsieur de Villardin, saying,--"You desire me, my lord,
not to set out to-morrow ere I have seen you. Will you give me your
own directions as to how I am to behave towards Mademoiselle de
Villardin?"
"I have the most perfect confidence in you, De Juvigny," he replied,
"and can have no objection to your having one more interview with her,
though of course that must be the last. See her--speak with
her--endeavour to console her--use what arguments you may think meet.
I rely entirely upon your honour to do all that you can to make her
yield a willing consent to that arrangement for which her father has
plighted his word. You will doubtless find ready means to see her. In
these respects I ask no questions in regard to the past; and for the
future I trust entirely, as I have said, to your own honour."
We now separated; and, returning to my own apartments, I busied myself
with thoughts too wild and confused to be remembered or transcribed. I
had long seen and had long known, indeed, that such must be the result
of my love for Laura de Villardin. I had long seen that fate could
have nothing else in store for me; but yet I do not think that, even
if I had been taken totally unprepared, I could have felt more
bitterly--more terribly--the agony of sudden disappointment, than I
now felt the severing of the last tie between love and hope. If there
was anything in the whole which might have proved soothing,--if there
was anything on which my mind might have rested with pleasure, it was
on the noble confidence which Monsieur de Villardin had shown towards
me; but even that was not without a pang, and the sting which it
inflicted was bitterer than all: for I saw from his conduct now, that
had I, when first I discovered the passion that I entertained for his
daughter, made him acquainted with it at once--had I, when we were
journeying on together towards Paris, poured out my whole feelings
into his bosom, and confided in him, as perhaps I ought to have done,
Laura might still have been mine, and a brighter destiny than ever
hope had pictured would have crowned the end of my career. Thus then
the bitterest regret was added to the most acute disappointment. The
cup of happiness had been nearly at my lips; but, not knowing what it
contained, I had passed it by, and I felt too surely that it would
never come within my reach again.
I knew that such regrets were useless; I knew that nothing remained
for me but to endure; I strove even to acquire strength from despair;
but it was all in vain. Regret, disappointment, agony, mingled with
every thought, and every memory, and every expectation; and for an
hour, I strode up and down in a state of mind that I shall not attempt
any farther to depict. At the end of that time, there was a light tap
at my door, and the next moment, Laura's maid, Lise, entered the room.
My agitation was sufficiently apparent, and would probably have
betrayed what had occurred, even had not the soubrette been partially
aware before that some sort of a discovery had taken place.
"Ah! Monsieur le Baron," she said, as soon as she saw me, "I see how
it is all going. I have been watching all the evening, and have
learned enough from the going to and fro, to perceive that monseigneur
has discovered it all, and that unless you will follow my advice, you
and Mademoiselle will be unhappy for ever."
"And, pray, what is your advice, my good Lise?" I demanded; "the Duke
has indeed discovered all, but that makes very little difference in
regard to our situation. But say, what is your advice?"
"Why, it is simply this," replied the waiting woman; "that you come
directly to Mademoiselle's chamber, and persuade her to set off with
you to Rennes. My good friend, Father Martin, will perform the
ceremony, as he promised me he would, not a week ago. Degville, the
notary, will draw up the contract, and for a couple of thousand francs
to a priest and a lawyer, you will get the sweetest lady in all
Brittany, and the one that loves you best."
It is not impossible that, had Monsieur de Villardin said one harsh or
unkind word to me, had he treated me with pride or with indignity, he
might have lost his daughter; and I, teaching myself to believe that
every stratagem is honourable in love, might have embraced the plan
which Lise, in her love for the romantic, had laid out, and might have
made Laura de Villardin my bride before the next morning. The state of
Brittany at that time, and the lax administration of the law, both
civil and ecclesiastical, so greatly facilitated any scheme of the
kind, that I well knew it was perfectly practicable; but my mind was
so completely made up as to the course which I was bound in honour to
pursue--the whole of my good feelings were so strongly arrayed against
the persuasions of passion, that the proposal made by Lise did not
even tempt me for a moment. It was unnecessary, however, to tell her
all that had passed; and, assuming as much calmness as I could, I
replied,--"No, no, Lise, such a course is quite unnecessary. Do not
agitate your mistress, I beseech you, by telling her that anything has
occurred in the château to disturb the usual course of events; but beg
her to let me see her to-morrow in the same place in which we have
usually met."
Lise gazed at me with some surprise. "Will they let you see her,
then?" she demanded: "are you sure of being able to come?"
"Quite sure, Lise," I replied; "so tell her what I bid you; and take
this ring," I added, giving her one that I had bought in Paris, "and
keep it as a remembrance of me hereafter."
"It is a very pretty ring," replied Lise, taking it, "and I will keep
it for your sake with all my heart; but, nevertheless, I would much
rather that you had given another of a different kind to my mistress
this very night. However, I suppose, Monsieur le Baron, you know your
own business best, and so I shall meddle no more."
Thus saying, Lise took her leave, and left me to pass as miserable a
night as ever wretch yet spent upon the face of this earth.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Sleep was not to be obtained, and I was up long before the dawn. All
the château was dark and silent; but as it was in vain to seek that
blessed forgetfulness, which only falls upon the eyes of toil or
happiness, I dressed myself, notwithstanding the obscurity, and,
throwing back the casement, gazed out upon the dim and silent world,
that lay chill and vague in the fresh depths of an autumnal night.
A heavy dew was falling, spreading a sort of whitish-grey mist over
the woods and falls of ground around the Prés Vallée; but the sky
above was quite clear, and a thousand bright calm stars were looking
out, like the eyes of angels watching the dark scene of man's
melancholy pilgrimage. The ground mist, however, and the nearer masses
of dark trees, and the spangled heaven, were the only objects I could
see as I looked forth, while my ear caught no sound but a light wind
stirring the leaves, and the faint murmur of the river, whose rarely
heard voice showed the profound stillness of everything else around.
Still I gazed out, though it was upon vacancy, for the fresh night
air, as it bathed my feverish brow, seemed to cool the burning of my
brain, and quell the fiery thoughts that were passing within. For near
an hour I continued leaning upon my arm in the deep aperture of the
window, revolving things which took perhaps a more melancholy but a
less frenzied form as the calmness of the night sunk down into my
soul. At length, another sound seemed added to the whisper of the air
and the murmur of the stream, and I fancied that some early shepherd
was leading his flock betimes to the pasture of the neighbouring
meadows. But presently I heard a distinct step, which seemed to
proceed from beneath a group of trees, at about ten yards from the
terrace, under which a walk wound along towards the river; and,
accustomed as I was to mark the slightest noise, I at once concluded
that it was the footfall of some one who, in walking along beneath the
elms, had crossed the gravel. The next moment, as the step lighted on
the turf again, I lost the sound, but almost at the same time, two
figures came a little forward, and paused under the branches of the
trees. Had it been any other kind of night than that which it was, I
could not have distinguished the two strangers from the ground behind
them, but beyond the trees was a deep slope of ground, in which the
mist had gathered, white and heavy, and against it both the trunks of
the elms and the forms of the men beneath their branches were clearly
marked out, though of course it was still impossible to recognise
their persons.
I have before remarked that neither Monsieur de Villardin nor any of
his household were, generally speaking, matutinal in their habits, and
it struck me as extraordinary that any of the servants should show
themselves such very early risers as to be out and walking in the
woods nearly an hour before daybreak. But I soon found, from the
proceedings of the two men who had caught my attention, that they were
none of the inmates of the château. They paused for several minutes
under the trees, gazing up at the building, and scanning every part of
it attentively. They spoke, too, in a low voice, but it was impossible
from the distance to hear what they said, though I could distinctly
see one of them raise his arm and point to the part of the château in
which Laura's apartments lay. My own chambers, as I believe I have
before said, were situated in the tower forming a sort of wing to the
westward of the other buildings, and in the foot of the tower was a
door, which opened at once from the terrace to a staircase which led
up to my apartments, to the rooms above them, and to the corridor
communicating with the rest of the house.
At the end of a few minutes, the two men advanced leisurely to the
terrace, and, mounting the steps, approached the base of the château,
seeming carefully to examine the principal door, from which, however,
they turned again immediately, and came towards the foot of the tower
through one of the windows of which I was watching them. As I was now
not above ten or twelve feet above the spot where they stood, I could
hear more distinctly what passed between them; and to speak the truth,
they were conversing with a sort of cool and confident nonchalance,
which showed that they either cared not who listened, or had no fear
of being overheard.
"I have known this one left open for nights together," said one, as
they approached the door beneath my windows.
"But, if it were, you would not go in?" replied the other.
"Not to-night, certainly," said the first again; "but if we found that
it is still usually open, we could easily come back strong enough to
do what we liked."
"Ay," answered his companion, "but would the priest do his part under
such circumstances? I heard him promise to marry them if they came
willingly; but----"
"Give him a thousand francs more, and he will do anything,"
interrupted the first; "I would coin my very blood to do it."
"It would be a glorious booty, to be sure," was the sort of meditative
reply; "but, after all, I think we may fall upon a better plan. We
should find it difficult to muster sufficient hands. However, if we
once get hold of her, we will easily find means to make marriage the
best thing she can do."
"Oh, no fear of that," answered the other; and after a few words more
that I could not distinguish, they tried the door at the foot of the
tower, and finding it locked, retrod their steps across the terrace.
For a moment or two, they again paused under the elms, and once more
scrutinised every part of the building; and then turning through the
dell behind, they were immediately lost to my sight.
What could be their purpose? was my first question; and though I
certainly could not find a probable answer, yet one fact was
evident--their purpose, whatever it was, was anything but good. How it
might be obviated became the next consideration; and as I was about
to quit the vicinity for a long time, and did not choose to be
suspected of any wish to linger, I saw that the only thing which
remained for me to do was to inform Monsieur de Villardin of the
facts, and set him upon his guard. As I reflected, however, I saw
that I might find no fitting opportunity for putting my intention in
execution the next morning, and in all that I was about to suffer,
it appeared not improbable that I should forget it altogether. While
it was fresh in my mind, then, I determined to write it down, and
leave it for the Duke at my departure; and having struck a light,
I thus occupied myself till the day mingled its purer beams with
the yellow glare of my lamp.
Thinking that if Laura had heard of any of the events which had taken
place during the preceding evening, she might be at our rendezvous
earlier than usual, I set out as soon as the sun was fully risen, and
with a wavering step and beating heart, took my way to the trees at
which we usually met. Casting myself down upon the dewy grass, I
waited her arrival; and bitter, bitter were the feelings which filled
the next half-hour. About to part with her for ever--about to resign
her to the arms of another--all her loveliness and all her gentleness
seemed heightened a thousand-fold by the power of regret. Nor were my
feelings entirely selfish--at least, if they were so, they strove hard
to clothe themselves in a garb of disinterestedness. "If she could be
happy herself," I thought, "half my sorrow would be removed; but to
know that my own misery implies hers also, and that she, like me, is
destined to a life of sorrow and disappointment, is too, too painful."
At our usual time of meeting she came; and Lise remained by the bank
of the stream, within call, but out of hearing of any ordinary tone. I
saw at once that Laura was unaware of any change, and her first words
were an affectionate comment upon my pale and haggard looks. I would
have given worlds that she had known the whole before we met, for oh,
how terrible it was to break to her the approaching end of our
communion for ever! How I did it I can scarcely tell, but her grief
and agony were far more fearful than even I had anticipated. At that
moment of bitter sorrow, all the treasure of her heart was poured
forth. She had no reserve--she had no coldness; and, with her weeping
face buried in my bosom, she told me how long and how dearly she had
loved me, and traced, in words that only served to render me more
miserable, the growth of her affection for me, from her infancy to
that hour. I did all that I could, without appearing indifferent or
unkind, to calm her, and to persuade her that no course was left
either for her or me but to obey the commands of her father; and while
I told how deep was my love, how acute was my grief, and how eternal
would be my regret, I besought her to forget me, and to strive for
happiness, or at least, tranquillity, in the only way in which it
could be obtained.
"De Juvigny," she cried, clasping her beautiful hands, "I will so far
obey my father as never to dream of marrying you without his consent;
but I can love none other; my heart is given, and for ever; and I will
never perjure myself by vowing to love any man, when I know and feel
that I cannot do so. No, De Juvigny, no; there is a higher duty than
even that to my parent; and it cannot be violated. When I looked upon
my husband I should think of you, and I should hate him because he was
not you. I should drown his house with tears, and show him every hour
that I loved another. No, De Juvigny, no," she cried, starting up; "I
will fly to my father this instant; I will tell him all and
everything; I will show him the consequences of what he is about to
do, and I will entreat him to spare me at least the last and worst
part of his will."
As she spoke, she turned, and ere I could even attempt to stay her,
she darted away like lightning, all bathed in tears, to cast herself
at her father's feet, and implore him to change a purpose which I knew
too well to be unchangeable. Lise, who saw her pass, followed quick,
and I more slowly, feeling that she had herself put an end to our last
interview, and that it could never be renewed. Passing by the door of
Monsieur de Villardin's chamber, which was not entirely closed, I
heard her voice, mingled with sobs, still entreating her father to
yield his resolution. I knew, however, that she would entreat in vain:
I knew, too, that means would be found after my departure to sooth
her, and to persuade her to acquiesce in the views which had been
formed for her by her father; and feeling that to linger longer than
necessary was but to inflict additional pain upon her, upon myself,
and upon Monsieur de Villardin, I summoned my servants, bade them
prepare my horses and baggage immediately, and seeking out little
Clement de la Marke, I told him that I was about to set off for
Dumont, if he were willing to accompany me. Any change is generally
delightful to youth, and the boy, catching at the proposal with
rapture, flew to make ready for the journey, while I returned to my
chamber to give the last thoughts to all the agonizing pangs of my
present situation.
Scarcely had I entered it, however, when I was followed by Monsieur de
Villardin. He was pale and much agitated; but, nevertheless, he did
not fail to remark, with his usual kindness, the change which had been
wrought in my appearance by the passing of the last twelve painful
hours.
"You are sadly altered, De Juvigny," he said, "and this unfortunate
business will be the destruction of us all, if it be not speedily
brought to a conclusion. At present it is vain arguing with Laura; but
I need not tell you that at any sacrifice my word must be kept. After
you are gone, I trust we shall be able to calm her and bring her to
reason; but, in the meantime, for the sake of every one, it will be
better for us to part immediately."
"My lord," I replied, "I am ready at this moment, and my servants have
orders to lose not an instant in their preparations. In less than
half-an-hour the horses will be on the terrace, and before night I
trust to be at Dumont. In the meanwhile, allow me to give you this
letter, which I wrote to you during the night, fearing that I might
not have an opportunity of speaking with you on the subject ere I set
out."
He took it with somewhat of an anxious glance, as if he feared that it
might inflict upon him some new pain connected with the matter which
was uppermost in all our thoughts; but I hastened to relieve him. "It
refers, my lord," I continued, "to something which I observed last
night, while looking out of the window to pass away the time, as I was
not inclined to sleep, and which I felt myself bound to make you
acquainted with, lest any evil should occur during my absence."
Monsieur de Villardin tore open the letter and read its contents. "It
is strange enough," he said, when he had concluded; "it is certainly
strange enough; but we are a great deal too strong in numbers to fear
any violence, although I hear that two or three people have been
plundered in the neighbourhood of St. Aubin, and that Monsieur de Vins
himself was shot at in riding through the forest: however, I will be
upon my guard. And now, my dear boy, you must promise to let me hear
from you continually. As my affection towards you is anything but
decreased by all that has happened, let me trust that your affection
towards me remains unimpaired likewise, though you may be the
sufferer. No one knows better than myself that the human mind can do
but little to master affliction and overcome the emotions of the
heart: but still it can do something; and I am sure that, for all our
sakes, you will exert yourself to the utmost to conquer the effects of
sorrow and disappointment."
I made no reply, for I knew too well how little one can calculate upon
one's own powers in moments of passion or despair. Almost as he had
done speaking, one of my servants came in to inform me that the horses
were prepared, and that everything was ready to set out. My heart was
too full to take leave of any one, and merely clasping Monsieur de
Villardin's hand for one moment in my own, I descended as rapidly as
possible to the terrace.
I found Father Ferdinand at the door, embracing little Clement de la
Marke before his departure. Old Jerome, the major-domo, and a great
many of the servants and attendants, were standing round, grave and
sad, and evidently aware that something unpleasant had occurred to
cause my sudden departure. My own three servants, booted and spurred,
stood holding the horses in front of the house; and, as my eye glanced
accidentally over the windows, I saw that many a person was watching
to see me set out, though I was afraid of looking farther, lest I
should behold what might overcome my resolution. Saying a few words to
Father Ferdinand, I walked direct towards my horse; but, as I was
going to mount, I found that Monsieur de Villardin himself, anxious to
deprive my situation of any unnecessary pain, had followed me out to
take leave of me in the kindest manner before all those who were
looking on. Laying his hand upon my arm, as I was just about to put my
foot in the stirrup, he embraced me affectionately, saying, "Heaven
bless you, my dear boy; let me hear from you directly." He then
turned, and patted the head of little Clement de la Marke, wishing him
a safe journey; and then looked round again to me, with an anxious and
even hesitating glance, as if he would fain, fain have yielded all,
and forbidden my departure.
I felt that I could bear no more; and leaping into the saddle, I
struck my horse with the spur, and galloped away from the Prés Vallée
and the many dear objects that it contained. Those who have lost all
that was nearest to their heart on earth may judge what were my
feelings for the first ten miles. It were useless to detail all that I
experienced:--the bitter disappointment, the burning regret, the
swelling of the sad heart, the fire of the agitated brain. I have
spoken of it all too much already; and, besides, it is impossible to
give any idea of sensations which I do not believe that many can feel,
and which those who can feel must know that it is impossible to
relate.
My thoughts in regard to Laura were, indeed, a wild chaos of
everything painful and distressing, without form or consistency.
Towards Monsieur de Villardin, however, my feelings were more clearly
denned; and, notwithstanding all that I suffered, I did full justice
to the noble and generous conduct which he had displayed towards me. I
saw and felt even then, that his kindness--that his generous sympathy,
under the painful circumstances in which I was placed, would, at some
future period, when time should have softened the pangs that it could
never cure, become one of the sweetest memories for my after years,
and bind me to that noble-hearted man by a tie that could never be
broken. I saw, too, hi examining his behaviour, that the memory of all
he himself had felt had greatly influenced his conduct. It was the
same noble spirit which, moved by passion and by the arts of others to
absolute madness, had in former days caused his own wretchedness and
misery, that now, divested of any personal passion, softened and
purified by long years of sorrow and regret, led him to sympathize
deeply and sincerely with two hearts, which he was bound by an
obligation he could not violate to tear asunder. His unshaken
kindness--the generous confidence that he had reposed in me, which was
the more touching from his heart not being naturally a confiding
one--the sympathy he had shown--the allowances he had made--all
affected me much; and, although I could not but think he was wrong in
not permitting Laura to decide for herself, though I thought that no
promise could bind a father to use absolute compulsion with his child,
yet his conduct towards myself left me without a word to say, and made
me love him the more deeply even while he inflicted the most bitter of
disappointments.
These were the only alleviating feelings which my heart experienced,
as I rode on towards Dumont. All the rest was bitterness itself; and,
although I had by this time made up my mind to the belief that it
would be criminal to expose myself to danger in a greater degree now
than I would have done upon any other occasion, yet I acknowledge that
I was in that frame of mind in which death would have been a relief;
and that I should have blessed the hand which took a life that I
looked upon as a prolongation of misery through a long and tedious
series of years. Such were my thoughts as I rode through a part of the
forest in which Monsieur de Villardin had told me that some outrages
had lately been committed; and I could not help feeling that if a
chance shot from some of the plunderers that still infested the
country were to lay me low, it would be but a happy termination of
sufferings to which I now saw no end. Death, however, has his own
appointed time; and as it is vain to fly from him, so also is it vain
to seek him ere the moment be come. Nothing disturbed me on my
journey, no sign of marauders was visible as I rode along, not a
creature did I meet but a forester with his axe upon his shoulder, and
a thin priest riding quickly along on his ambling palfrey. Such were
the only sights which I saw in the forest, except the tall trees, and
the yellow banks, and the jays fluttering and chattering from bough
to bough.
Sombre and silent as was every feeling of my bosom, my little page
Clement endeavoured in vain to seduce me into conversation while we
rode along; but still nothing could repress the joy of his heart; and,
indeed, no small delight did he seem to experience at the idea of
revisiting Dumont, and the scenes in which I had first found him, of
all which he had preserved the most perfect recollection, and for
which he seemed to entertain a peculiar regard. After riding about
twenty miles, we paused to refresh our horses, and, remembering that
the boy's frame was not so strong as my own, I asked him if he were
fatigued, and would like to remain for the night at the auberge where
we had made our halt; but he declared eagerly that he was not tired in
the least, and that he had much rather proceed to Dumont as fast as
possible. After a short repose, then, we resumed our journey, and
reached the place of our destination before night.
One or two female servants, who had remained in the château, soon put
my apartments in order; but still, about the whole place, there was
that air of chilly solitude which every house gains by being left long
unoccupied. My own heart had no gay feelings to cheer or enliven it;
all the memories associated with every object around me were of the
most gloomy and painful description; the sear leaves of autumn were
upon every tree, a dull covering of grey vapour veiled the brightness
of the sky, a sharp, parching wind was blowing the clouds of dust down
the dim deserted avenues of the park, while the closed windows of the
greater part of the building spoke the want of inhabitants, and the
aspect of everything harmonised too well with the dark and sombre
thoughts that crowded my own bosom. I have felt pain, and anxiety, and
misery, at different periods of my life, but I never, throughout the
whole range of remembrance, can call to mind having experienced such
deep despondency as on that night of my arrival at Dumont.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The greatest blessing that could befal me, under such circumstances as
I have described, was sleep procured by great corporeal exhaustion. I
had not closed an eye the night before, I had slept but little on
those that preceded it, and now a ride of forty miles, without having
taken any sort of refreshment, had greatly wearied me. When I lay
down to seek repose, then, I found it; and, though it was far from
that sweet, calm slumber which I had known in former years, yet still
it was a relief. The first part of the night I was tormented with
dreams, and more than once I started up and found myself, ere I was
well awake, laying my hand upon my sword, which I had cast down by
my bedside on going to rest. Less disturbed repose, however, came
with the morning; and, when I awoke, I found that the sun had risen
more than an hour. I was glad that it was so, for my days were
without object, and my waking hours were sure to be hours of pain.
Nevertheless, it must not be supposed that I abandoned myself weakly
to thoughts which were only calculated to unnerve my mind, or that I
determined purposely to cultivate the feelings which made life so
bitter; far from it; I knew, indeed, that those thoughts and those
feelings would engross my heart and mind, by whatever means or devices
I might attempt to banish them; but, at the same time, I resolved to
do all that lay within my power, to turn my attention to other things,
and to occupy myself with studies and pursuits that might give me
relief. I laid out many a plan for the day, so as, if possible, to
leave not a moment vacant for regret and sorrow to intrude themselves
upon me. In the first place, I thought I would read for a couple of
hours; and then I would trace down the bank of the stream, to the spot
where the unhappy Duchess de Villardin had perished; I would then ride
out to Juvigny, and, seeing Jacques Marlot, would examine all that was
passing on the estate, and by planning with him every improvement I
could think of, would endeavour to furnish occupation for many
succeeding days.
In my very first attempt, however, I found how foolish it was to make
such calculations. There stood the little library which had been given
to me by Father Ferdinand, and certainly it contained many a book
which might have afforded matter for instruction, consolation, and
amusement; but I took down one after another and attempted to read in
vain. My eyes wandered over the lines, my hands turned the pages, I
caught now and then the sense of a sentence or a paragraph; but, upon
the whole, I was reading without understanding, and nine times out of
ten I could not have told whether the words were French, or Latin, or
Arabic. Fancying that it was something dry and dull in the nature of
the good priest's selection which prevented me from attending, I went
down to the great library, caused the windows to be thrown open, and
chose whatever I thought was most likely to attract and please me: but
it was still the same. Replacing the books, I determined not to
attempt to read till my mind was more calm; and, in the meantime, by
combining corporeal with mental occupation, to force my thoughts from
the channel in which they were so strongly disposed to flow.
I now remembered that I had not seen my little page during the
morning, and, on inquiry, found that he had gone out by daybreak, and
had not yet returned.
He was probably gone to Juvigny, old Marguerite, who had been helping
me in the library, observed; for when last he had been there with
Father Ferdinand, she said, the boy had never been absent from that
place. Indeed, he seemed as fond of that fellow Jacques Marlot, as if
he were his own father--he might be so too, she added, for aught that
ever she could discover. But the boy was a pretty boy, too, and not
like that ugly cock-nosed scapegrace.
In despite of all my gloom, the spite of the old woman towards my poor
acquaintance, Jacques Marlot, made me smile for a moment; and taking
my hat, I ordered my horses to be ready in an hour, and walked out to
the banks of the stream, in order to see whether the second occupation
which I had laid out for myself would be attended with more success
than the first. But my walk was in every respect a melancholy one, as,
indeed, I might well have anticipated, had I allowed myself to judge
as rationally of my own feelings and their associations as I should
have done had the case been that of another. My first halt was at the
spot where I had rescued poor Laura from the fatal stream that
afterwards swept away her unhappy mother; and as I stood and gazed
upon the river, I could not but think how much misery would have been
saved us, had the dull and sullen water that rolled deep and dark
before me taken us both for ever to its silent bosom. Memory, too,
exerted all her power, and I could see before the mind's eye the dear
girl I loved, in all the smiling happiness of infant joy, ran bounding
on to meet me, as she had appeared the moment before she fell into the
stream. I recalled, too, as vividly as if it had just passed, the
heartfelt gladness with which I had grasped her fairy form in the
midst of the waters, and the sort of triumphant joy with which I had
held her up rescued towards those who watched us from the brink. I
remembered it all as if it had been a thing of yesterday; but I
remembered, at the same moment, my existing situation; and the bitter
comment of the present on the past poured like a torrent upon my
heart, and almost drowned out hope for ever.
I turned away, for in the state of my feelings I would rather have
rested in spots, the associations of which were painful in themselves,
than in those where happy memories formed a dreadful contrast with
present misery. I turned away, then, and walked slowly on to the
broken bridge, which remained still unrepaired, and was exactly in the
state in which it had been left on the night of Madame de Villardin's
death, except that a quantity of green mould, and many coloured
lichens, had grown over the broken woodwork, telling how many years
had past since the fall of the rest had taken place. Grief, however,
finds matter to increase its own stores in everything; and when I
thought of Madame de Villardin's unhappy fate, of her affection for
her husband so terribly repaid, of his love for her proving a source
of the bitterest anguish to himself, and of all the fearful scenes
which I had witnessed and in which I had taken a part, I began to
think--without feeling my own unhappiness relieved in the least by the
belief--I began to think that the whole world, and every state and
station in it, were full of misery to the overflowing--that each
feeling, virtuous or vicious, was alike prolific of sorrow--and that
the only happy being on the earth was the stoic or the anchorite, the
pure egotist or the mindless fool.
If I went out gloomy, I returned home more gloomy still, and, mounting
my horse, which was by this time prepared, I rode back to Juvigny, and
entered the house which I had lent to Jacques Marlot. The good farmer
was out, but Madame Marlot, who now presented the very best possible
image of a _bonne fermière_, adorned with fine white muslin, a profusion
of lace, and manifold gold ornaments, received me at the gate, and
gave me ocular proof of her husband's increasing prosperity. My visit
had evidently been expected, and on inquiring for my little page, I
was informed that he had been there since an early hour in the
morning, but had gone out upon his rounds with Jacques Marlot, who
would return with him directly.
The ci-devant printer was not long in making his appearance, and T
soon found from his manner that little Clement had informed him that
some events had lately occurred to render my mind not attuned to the
pleasantries with which he was wont to treat me. He was consequently
grave and calm, and though an occasional little drop of acid humour
would mix with what he said, yet our conversation passed much as a
matter of business; and highly approving of my intention of making
improvements, he went over my two farms with me, pointing out all that
he thought might be done. We thus planned a new road, and a number of
plantations, and having provided employment for myself for several
days in inspecting the progress of the workmen, I returned to Dumont,
feeling that at all events I had found an occupation which would
distract some of my thoughts from the more painful theme.
Day after day I returned to Juvigny, and carrying on several
operations at one time, I had an opportunity of diversifying my
amusement; thus waging a sort of incessant war against thought. As
soon as I found that painful ideas were obtruding upon me, I changed
my place at once, and went to the workmen engaged in some other
undertaking; and, thanks to their blessed stupidity, I always
discovered some matter to set right or some mistake to rectify. Thus
passed my days for more than a fortnight, and though the long dull
evenings were still terrible, yet the occupation of my thoughts during
the hours of light was in itself a great relief. My little page, wild
as the winds, left me almost entirely to myself, and although it had
been a part of my plan to fill up my vacant time by pursuing the task
of his education, yet my mind was not equal to it; and I soon found
that I could not bend my thoughts to the subject with sufficient
application, to do him any good or myself either. Thus from nightfall
to midnight my hours were generally spent in walking up and down the
great library, sometimes forcing myself to read for a few minutes, but
generally giving full course to the thoughts which I contrived to
avoid, more or less, during the day.
At length, however, a messenger arrived from the Prés Vallée, bringing
me letters, which again rendered every effort to occupy my mind
perfectly vain. The first was from Monsieur de Villardin, and was full
of the kindest and most affectionate language; but it went on to
inform me that the Count de Laval had arrived at the château, and that
his marriage was fixed for that day week. Feeling it necessary to
inform me of the fact, and yet knowing that every word upon the
subject was a dagger in my heart, Monsieur de Villardin wrote as
briefly upon it as possible, simply telling me the bare facts, and
then adding, "Laura is calm."
The next was a letter from Father Ferdinand, but it was more full,
more interesting, and yet more painful. I give it, therefore, as it
was, so far at least as translation can render it.
"My dear Son,
"Although Monsieur de Villardin has written to you himself, I feel
it necessary to address you also as one who loves you sincerely,
and whose wishes are all for your future welfare and happiness. In
the first place, however, let me say, that although I doubt not youll
may think I outstepped my duty, and interfered, perhaps cruelly, in
informing the Duke of the mutual affection which existed between Laura
and yourself, yet I had an undoubted right to do so, founded on
circumstances which you do not know, but which shall one day be
explained to you. In other respects, some words that I once let drop,
which might tend to encourage your passion, still rest upon my
conscience; but my error in having spoken them is attributable in some
degree to Monsieur de Villardin himself, who did not inform me, as he
ought to have done at an earlier period, that he had promised the hand
of his daughter to another.
"_The future husband of Laura de Villardin_ is now here, and while I
acknowledge my regret that in every respect he does not resemble
yourself, yet he seems a noble and dignified man, with whom, I trust,
she will find peace, if not happiness. The day of marriage is fixed
for this day week, and beyond all doubt it will then take place. Laura
is calm and composed, and her mind appears made up to her fate; but at
the same time it is useless to dissemble that she suffers much. In
speaking thus, my son, I have the utmost reliance on those good
principles which I have marked with pleasure daily taking firmer root
in your bosom; and on those generous feelings which I have often seen
make you prefer the happiness of others to your own. I know that man
can hardly love woman better than you love her who is now about to
become the wife of another; and I believe that your love for her will
not decay; but I believe at the same time that her tranquillity and
peace of mind will ever be your first desire; and on this ground I
entreat, I beseech, I command you never to see her after her marriage,
till long years have calmed and softened feelings that are now too
vehement for control. If, indeed, you do love her sincerely, such will
be your course; and the blessing of a quiet conscience, and the
knowledge of having acted nobly under the most trying circumstances,
will follow such conduct, and cannot fail to assuage your grief.
"Ere long I shall again see you, at least, if you remain at Dumont;
for as soon as the marriage is over, Monsieur de Villardin and all his
family set out for Paris. On the same day I leave the Prés Vallée for
Rennes, where I shall spend but three days in necessary business, and
will then join you. I hope to give you consolation, and at all events
to be enabled to afford you some support under the bitter
disappointment which you suffer. From these circumstances, and knowing
how painful all the details must be to you, I shall not write again
till we meet; and in the meantime may God bless and comfort you, and
give you strength, and wisdom, and faith, to bear the dispensation of
his will without murmurs or repining."
The effect of these letters upon my mind may be conceived. No
occupation now took any hold upon my thoughts; and the whole of the
next week was spent in wandering about in a state of despairing
wretchedness, that made me almost think the use of my reason would
abandon me. I read over and over again the letters which conveyed to
me the intelligence of the near approach of my beloved Laura's
marriage to another; and, instead of feeling soothed by the terms of
affection and consolation which they contained, every word served but
to irritate me, and to aggravate my grief. Cruel, cruel did it seem to
me, to force the poor unhappy girl into an union from which her heart
revolted, without giving her time even to prepare her mind by thought;
or, by contemplation, to habituate her ideas to a change of situation
and of duties which implied the sacrifice of her heart's first and
strongest affection. Bitterly, in my own breast, did I upbraid
Monsieur de Villardin for the haste with which he proceeded--bitterly
also did I upbraid Father Ferdinand for not using all his influence to
obtain, at least, a delay of some weeks or months.
From what had fallen from Monsieur de Villardin, when last I saw him,
I had certainly anticipated that the marriage would take place much
sooner than he had at first determined; but never did I think that
only three short weeks would be allowed for Laura to cast me from her
heart, and to summon resolution to plight her faith to another: and
the agony of mind that I knew she would suffer, as may well be
supposed, added not a little to my own. Often, often was I tempted to
act now, as I most certainly should have acted in former years--to
hasten to the Prés Vallée, and, exerting all the influence that I
possessed over her mind, to persuade her to escape from the trammels
which they sought to impose upon her, and, uniting her fate to mine
for ever, fly to some distant land, where we might spend the rest of
our days in peace. But still a sense of honour and gratitude made me
pause and doubt, till the fatal day at length arrived, and I saw the
sun rise and set that was to seal my fate and hers for ever. As it
sunk below the verge of the horizon, and the grey, deep night came on,
the struggle between duty and passion was over, and nothing remained
but despair. My heart was like a field of battle, from which a fierce
and fearful strife had passed away, and had left behind nothing but
mourning and death.
Shutting myself up in my own chamber, I cast myself down on my bed
without undressing, and many an hour passed over my head, uncounted
and unmarked, in a sort of dreary stupor, which was in everything the
reverse of sleep; far from being a suspension of thought, it was the
rushing of painful ideas through my brain, in such crowded multitudes,
that all individual form and distinctness was lost. At length the
faint grey light told me that it was dawn, and, springing from my bed,
with an impulse that I could not resist, I woke the groom, and told
him to saddle me my stoutest horse, determined to seek the Prés
Vallée. "They are all gone by this time," I thought; "the house is
lonely and desolate like my own heart, and I may at least be permitted
to see the spot where last she trode."
In a few minutes the horse was at the door, and the servants, gazing
anxiously upon me, asked whether they might not accompany me? I
replied, somewhat harshly, "No." And springing into the saddle, shook
my bridle-rein, and galloped off towards Rennes. My gallant horse,
which had borne me through many a battle-field, now carried me
stoutly on, and, as if he felt the same eagerness which swelled in my
own heart, slackened not his pace for many a mile. As I rode through
the forest, I heard some distant voices, but my heart and my brain
were both too full for me to give any attention to external objects,
and the sounds fell upon my ear heard, but not noticed. About six
miles more brought me to the first woods of the Prés Vallée, and in a
few moments, I was standing amongst the tall trees, and beside the
lonely grave of turf, where Laura and myself had been accustomed to
meet. I gazed sternly on the spot for a few moments, calling up all
the memories which thronged around it, and torturing my own heart with
every thought which could render my feelings more bitter. Tying my
horse to a branch of a tree, I walked slowly on towards the house,
expecting to find it nearly deserted; but I was surprised, when I
approached the terrace, to see a number of grooms and servants,
apparently busy in their usual occupations. The sight startled me,
and, drawing rapidly back, I escaped through the garden, in order to
regain my horse without being seen; for, unless the whole household
had departed, to enter the Prés Vallée at such a moment of course
never crossed my thoughts.
I now passed quickly through the garden, and was turning towards the
door at the other side, when I suddenly heard a low voice calling
after me, "Hist--hist! Monsieur le Baron," and looking round, I beheld
old Jerome, the major-domo, pursuing me as fast as his somewhat feeble
limbs would permit. I turned towards him, and bade him follow to some
place where we should not be observed; but he replied, "O, there is no
fear here. They are all gone out, and will be too tired before their
return to come walking in the garden."
There were a thousand questions that I could have wished to ask, but
they died away upon my lips; and had not the old man been as eager
to tell as I was to hear, I should have gained no tidings.
"You have heard the news, sir," he said, "you have heard the news?"
"I have heard nothing, Jerome," I replied, "excepting that the family
was to quit the Prés Vallée yesterday, which is the sole cause of my
being here to-day."
"Well, then, you have not heard," continued the old man, with a smile
of evident satisfaction brightening up his features, "you have not
heard that the marriage is delayed, and Lise declares she is sure it
will not take place at all."
I thought I should have fallen down dead at his feet, so sudden was
the change from despair to hope; and now, being more anxious than ever
to hear him to an end uninterrupted, I beckoned him out of the
gardens, and leading the way towards the grave of the Count de Mesnil,
in which direction I knew Monsieur de Villardin would not venture, I
besought him to tell me all that had occurred. He began his story with
a long tirade against my rival, whose person and deportment seemed
equally to have fallen under the old man's disapprobation. I cut short
his details, however, concerning the Count de Laval, telling him that
I knew him, and that he need not describe him; and he then went on to
relate the events which had occurred within the last week.
"Just five days ago," he said, "when we all thought the marriage was
to take place as yesterday, Mademoiselle--as many of us had fancied
she would--fell ill; and several physicians were sent for from Rennes.
The two who came, I hear from Lise, declared that she was ill in body
because she was ill in mind; and that Monsieur de Villardin or Father
Ferdinand must be her physicians, as they could do nothing for her.
Both the Duke and the Priest went to her immediately, and Lise was
sent away, so that she heard nothing more. At length, however, it
seems that she obtained permission to see the Count himself, and to
tell him all she felt, for he was admitted to her chamber, and, while
Lise stood at one end of the room, held a long conversation with our
young lady at the other. What it was all about Lise did not hear,
though she very well guessed: but, as the Count was going away, he
said aloud, 'As you desire it, madam, I will certainly speak with the
good Father, though I do not think he can tell me anything which I do
not know before. But, at all events, rest satisfied that, after the
confidence you have placed in me, I will do nothing ungenerous.'"
"From all this Lise augured well; but, what between agitation, and
terror, and fatigue, my young lady fainted seven or eight times within
the hour, after the Count had left her; and at length Lise was obliged
to call the Duke and other people to her assistance, as she could not
bring Mademoiselle to herself again; and for some time every one
thought she was dead. As soon as she had recovered, she was told that,
at the desire of the Count himself, the marriage would be put off for
a month; and from that moment she began to get better rapidly. The
same evening, I saw the Count walking with Father Ferdinand for nearly
three hours; and I always thought that news had been sent to you, for
I know that a messenger was despatched that night to Dumont, without
the knowledge of Monsieur de Villardin."
"He never came!" I exclaimed. "I never saw him! I never heard of his
arrival!"
"That is very strange," said the old man, "for he certainly went, and
as certainly returned early yesterday morning. However, yesterday,
Mademoiselle was quite well again; but all the preparations for the
marriage have been done away. The Count seems very respectful and kind
to my young lady. Lise, who knows better about it than any one,
appears more happy, and every one thinks that the marriage will not
take place at all. To-day, all went out early, with the carriage and
a few horsemen, but they have not returned yet, though Monseigneur
said that he would be back before noon, and it is now nearly three
o'clock."
The relief that all these tidings gave me was almost too great to bear
with any degree of firmness. I could have wept for very joy; and yet
so strange, so unexpected, was the whole, that I scarcely dared suffer
myself to entertain the hopes which good old Jerome was so anxious to
supply. "The marriage," I thought, "might indeed be delayed; Laura's
entreaties and illness might have obtained for her some compassion;
but if the character which I had heard of the Count de Laval were
correct, he was not a man to yield easily the hand of the richest
heiress in France, or to suffer what he would consider her childish
passion for another ultimately to break through the positive
engagements which her father had entered into with himself." Such
thoughts, of course, tended to calm my joy, and to moderate my
expectations; but still the flame of hope was again lighted in my
bosom, and infinite, indeed, was the change which had taken place in
all my feelings since I had left Dumont at break of day.
Numberless, however, were still the questions which I had to ask of
the old man; for the slightest particular, the most accidental trait,
in the events which had occurred, was of course calculated to raise up
or cast down my new-found hopes, and was in itself interesting from
its connexion with the fate and happiness of Laura de Villardin. Thus,
with slow and interrupted steps, we were proceeding in the direction
which I have mentioned, sometimes pausing to ask a question or to
receive a reply, sometimes stopping short to think over all I had
heard, and to try to discover what was really the state of the case
from the broken information which Jerome could alone afford me, when
suddenly, a little way ere we reached the spot where I had left my
charger, the sound of a horse's feet, coming rapidly down the
neighbouring avenue, made me hasten behind some thick hawthorn bushes,
to avoid observation. Jerome, however, remained where he was, and I
could hear, from my place of concealment, the horse stop when it
reached him, some hasty conversation take place, and then the voice of
the old man calling me, for God's sake, to come up. I did so at once;
and as I emerged from the trees, was not a little surprised to
perceive that the person conversing with the old major-domo was a
woman dressed in the habit of a Bretonne paysanne, and mounted on a
good horse, which she had not quitted, but was speaking as she sat,
with all the eager gesticulation of passion and energy. The next
moment she turned towards myself, and what was my astonishment as she
did so, to behold Suzette, the former maid of Madame de Villardin, and
the wife of Gaspard de Belleville.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
My surprise at beholding Suzette in a place where she knew that
nothing but abhorrence and contempt would attend her, made me pause
for a single instant; but she remarked the delay, and exclaimed
loudly, "Why do you delay?--Quick! quick! if you are the man you used
to be--quick! and save them; or you may come too late."
"Save whom?" I demanded, still more astonished. "What do you mean,
Suzette?--you look wild and haggard. What is it brings you here?"
"I am wild!" she answered; "I am haggard! and how can it be
otherwise?--I that have not closed an eye these seven nights, watching
the machinations of two base villains, who, to revenge themselves on
you and yours, would sacrifice me too; and leave me to die of grief
and rage, so that they might enrich themselves with the spoils of
those they hate! But I am babbling. If you love the Duke de
Villardin--if--if, John Hall, you love Laura de Villardin--as I know
you do--for you have been watched under those trees many a day when
you knew not that any one saw you--if you would save her from the
shame of wedding that low slave Gaspard de Belleville----"
"Good God!" I cried, "you told me that you were yourself his wife."
"I did!--I did!" she cried, "and so I am; but they have taken from me
the proofs of my marriage--but mind not that! Hear me--his wife,
indeed, she cannot be--but if you would save her from the shame of
marrying him who has another wife still living--follow them, as
rapidly as you can, to the forest--'tis but six miles. Take the road
to St. Aubin--then choose the third wood track to the right--you will
come to a stream--follow it till you reach the ruins of a water-mill.
If you overtake them not before, you will find them at the little
chapel under the rocks at the back of the mill. But call your men
quickly, and spur as if for life, and you will reach them long ere
that, for the carriage was dragging but slowly through the sandy
ground. Have I directed you clearly?--can you find the place?"
"I know it already!" I replied; "I know it already."
"Quick, quick, then!" she cried; "seek your followers, mount and
begone!"
"I wait for none!" I answered. "You, Jerome, get every servant
in the house on horseback--send one to Rennes for a troop of the
guards--bring the rest up to the forest like lightning! Suzette, for
your soul's peace, lead them direct to the spot--you will find me
there, living or dead--be quick, as you hope for salvation!"
"I _will_ be quick, as I hope for vengeance!" cried Suzette, the deepest
passion of her soul breaking forth. "Get you on first, then--you may
stay them for a time! We will not be long after!--Speed! speed!"
No time did I lose; my gallant horse stood ready at the foot of the
trees not a quarter of a mile distant. The length of the way that he
had come had abated but little of his strength, and the short rest he
had found had, in some degree, refreshed him; so that when once I was
upon his back, he needed neither whip nor spur. My shortest way was
across the river, and dashing quick to the brink, I drew the pistols
from the holsters to keep them from the water, and with a light touch
of the heel made the horse plunge in. The stream, though deep, was
slow, and the beast stemmed it gallantly, strained up the opposite
bank, and reaching the road, bore me on towards the forest. It was no
time to spare his speed, and I urged him on at the full gallop,
looking eagerly towards the dark masses of trees that lay at the edge
of the cultivated track before me, when suddenly the horse recoiled
from some object lying on the road; and I found that though he had
borne me amidst hundreds of dead and dying, yet he had drawn back from
a single body lying across the road. It was that of one of Monsieur de
Villardin's servants, and the attitude in which he lay, as well as the
quantity of blood which stained the ground around him, showed plainly
that the poor fellow was beyond all further care. Forcing the horse to
pass, I galloped on, and soon after entered the wood. Never did I
forget a road that once I had seen, and now, although the tidings of
Suzette had been vague and confused, I advanced direct towards the
scene of my former adventures with the robbers and their good captain,
Hubert.
The wood track which conducted to the small stream was easily found,
and riding on as fast as I could go, I soon reached the river. Here
the first object that presented itself was the carriage of Monsieur de
Villardin overturned in the deep sandy break of the banks that led to
a little ford. The horses, however, had been taken off, and the
carriage was left alone, so that it was evident that the accident must
have happened some time before; but as I was now within a quarter of a
mile of the mill--though it was concealed from my sight by the
windings of the stream--I determined to dismount, and pursue the rest
of the way on foot, knowing that if my single hand could do any
service to my poor Laura or her father, it would be by caution and
surprise. Again fastening my horse to a tree, and placing the pistols
in my girdle, I hastened forward till I caught a sight of the mill;
but although I could distinguish a number of horses standing tied
together round the building, no human being was to be seen. Onward I
went, however, well aware how much a desperate man may do against
many, although he be singlehanded; and I soon heard voices, apparently
at a short distance through the wood, to the right. I had never seen
the chapel of which Suzette had spoken; but taking the voices for my
guide, I crept through the trees as quickly but as silently as
possible, trying to repress the eager haste of my heart, by
remembering the absolute necessity of caution as well as
determination.
A moment after, the voices sounded much nearer, and I caught a glance
through the trees of the head and shoulders of an armed man standing
with his back towards me, and apparently speaking vehemently to some
other persons whom I could not see. Here I was tolerably well
concealed by some low thick bushes, but the taller trees were
unfortunately stripped of their leaves; and although at the distance
of twenty yards farther forward there was another thick patch of
brush-wood, from behind which I could have seen everything that took
place, yet the trunks of the oaks in the intervening space stood bare
and separate. I determined, however, to cross the space at all risks;
and getting as far back as possible, I glided from tree to tree.
The whole eyes and ears of the party I had seen were otherwise
occupied, and at length I found myself behind the bushes I had marked.
I was now within twenty yards of the chapel of which Suzette had
spoken, and from behind the brush-wood I could behold the whole party
I sought assembled in the little open space before it. Placed under a
high rocky bank, from which the chapel was partly excavated, stood
Monsieur de Villardin and the Count de Laval, with their hands tied;
and at the distance of a dozen paces appeared eight or nine
musqueteers--with their arms grounded, indeed, but evidently arrayed
there with no very good intentions towards the prisoners. Within a
yard of Monsieur de Villardin lay upon the ground three or four of his
servants tied hand and foot, and two of them apparently severely
wounded; but a little to the left of these again, so as to be in front
of the chapel--which was open, as such buildings usually are--appeared
a group of still greater interest. Within the chapel itself stood a
priest with an open book in his hand, and before him were placed Laura
de Villardin, dressed in her morning costume, and Hubert, whom I had
already seen in so many capacities, habited in the full and splendid
dress of an officer of the guards of the Prince de Condé. Supporting
Laura, who otherwise would have sunk to the ground, appeared Gaspard
de Belleville; and another armed man behind him again, made up the
whole party.
At the moment I turned to observe them, Hubert was speaking vehemently
to Laura, so that his words were perfectly audible. "Will you, or will
you not, madam?" he exclaimed. "Seek not to gain time--for it is all
in vain. No one can rescue you. And the lives of all those you see
depend upon your word!"
"Let him do his worst, my child!" cried Monsieur de Villardin; "let
him do his worst. It is better for us all to die together than that
you should become the wife of a villanous plunderer--though, indeed,
no such forced marriage would be valid for an hour; and his first step
would be from the altar to the gibbet."
"Your pardon, my lord," cried Hubert, with a smile of triumph, "I use
no force--I use no compulsion towards the young lady herself; though
to be sure, I point out the only means of saving your life. Do not
therefore flatter yourself that were she to consent, and I were to set
you free, the scaffold would become my bridal bed. No, no; I have
taken my measures too well for that; and when I come to claim your
daughter's portion, it shall not be till she has been long my wife,
and the mother of my children; and then we shall see whether you will
hang her husband or not. Madame," he added, in a sterner tone,
"Madame, time wears--I beseech you to spare your father's life. If you
refuse me, his blood be upon your head--your own hand draws the
trigger that slays him--your own voice pronounces the word. Nor will
you then escape me; for you shall be mine by force, if not by good
will. Speak!--shall I order yon men to fire?"
"Oh no, no, no!" cried Laura, clasping her hands in agony; "you will
not be so cruel!"
"Will you then consent instantly to become my wife?" he demanded: but
Laura turned her weeping eyes to the priest, exclaiming, "Oh, good
father, how can you lend yourself to such infamous things as these?"
"How can I help it, lady?" asked the priest: "I am as much under
compulsion as you are."
"Another such word as that, old hypocrite," cried Gaspard de
Belleville, "shall send the compulsion of a pistol ball through your
brain. You came here for gold, not for compulsion, so prepare to do
your office. Come, come, Hubert, you do but dally; give her her
choice, and let her decide boldly. Bid the men present their
firelocks, and then ask her the question. If she say 'Yes,' let them
ground their arms--if she say 'No,' let it be the signal for them to
fire; so her own voice will give the word."
"Ah, surely, surely!" cried Laura, clasping her fair hands, "surely
you will not be so cruel!"
"You will soon see, madame," cried Hubert, turning towards his men.
"You will soon see."
"Be firm, Laura! be firm!" shouted Monsieur de Villardin; "on your
duty, on your honour, yield not a step!"
The moment was now come--I could wait for aid no longer; and I trusted
that, previous to my own death, which seemed inevitable, I should be
able to give the villains sufficient occupation to enable Jerome and
the rest to come up in time to save Laura and her father. Hubert
turned towards his men; and I could see by the knitting of his brows,
and the setting of his teeth, that his determination was taken. What
Laura's final reply might be, of course I could not tell. I thought
that, sooner than see her father's blood spilt before her eyes, she
would say "Yes," at any risk. But I dared not trust to circumstances,
and as the chief of the robbers was giving his orders to his men,
and while Monsieur de Villardin was exhorting his daughter to die
herself and see them all die sooner than yield to the degradation
proposed, I drew a pistol from my belt, and gliding from behind
the brushwood, was standing at Hubert's side ere any one noticed
me but Laura herself.
An exclamation of surprise, not unmingled with joy, broke from her
lips; and the villain, startled by the sound, turned full round upon
me. I paused not--I uttered not a word--but levelling the pistol at
his head, pulled the trigger. The sharp, ringing report satisfied me
that nothing had gone wrong, and scarcely pausing to see the dead man
fall, I threw away the discharged weapon, caught the other from my
belt, and, with one spring forward, seized Gaspard de Belleville by
the collar and put the pistol to his ear. Thinking that his death
would be immediate, he crouched down in terror; but I had other views,
and seeing all the musqueteers presenting their weapons towards me, I
exclaimed aloud, as if I had been giving the command to my own troop,
"Ground your arms!"
The effect was electric. Every musquet was grounded at once, and at
the same moment the jingling sound of bridles and stirrups coming up
at the full gallop struck my ear, and was certainly the gladdest sound
I had heard for many a long day.
The robbers caught it too, and easily divining what it meant, I could
see them waver with the uncertainty of surprise. The man, however, who
stood behind Gaspard de Belleville, set the example of flight, and
plunged into the brush-wood which had served me as a place of
concealment. The others paused a moment, but the sounds of approaching
horsemen becoming louder and louder, determined them to fly, and
passing round on the other side of the chapel, they were for a moment
lost to my sight. One of them, indeed, before he went, twice raised
his musquet to his shoulder and took aim at me, as I stood grasping
the collar of Gaspard de Belleville; but each time he again withdrew
his piece, and then ran after the rest as fast as he could go. Anxious
to liberate Monsieur de Villardin and his servants, and yet not able
to effect it myself, I besought Laura, and commanded the priest, to
untie their hands, and both immediately turned to do so.
Ere she had taken a step, Laura, overcome by a variety of mingled
emotions which may well be conceived, fainted away, and fell across
the step of the chapel. The priest, however, ran forward and slipped
the knot from the hands of Monsieur de Villardin; but just as he had
done so, and while he was proceeding to execute the same good office
in favour of the rest, the marauders, who had been met, in their
attempt to escape, by a party of the guards, were driven back into the
open space before the chapel, while a large body of Monsieur de
Villardin's servants, guided by Suzette, came round by the path which
I had followed. The guards from Rennes appeared on the other side at
nearly the same moment, and finding themselves hemmed in, the robbers,
who were most of them old soldiers, stood to their arms, and showed
their determination to sell their lives dearly. Facing about at the
chapel, they received the guards, who pursued them closely, with a
steady fire. A number of the horses went over, all became hurry and
confusion; and, fearful that the marauders would be driven back over
my poor Laura, I thrust Gaspard de Belleville into the hands of some
of the servants, and ordering him to be tied tightly, hand and foot,
rushed forward to extricate her.
The guards had, by this time, betaken themselves to their fire-arms,
with very little discrimination between friends and enemies; shots
were flying in every direction: and, through the smoke which now
gathered quickly round us, I saw Suzette, who had guided the servants,
fall at the feet of her dastardly husband. Monsieur de Villardin, as
soon as he found himself at liberty, had snatched the sword of Hubert
from its sheath, and, like myself, was rushing on towards the spot
where Laura lay. But at that moment, the marauders gave the guards
another volley; and while a ball grazed my cheek and struck off my
hat, Monsieur de Villardin fell with his face to the ground. Waving
the guards and servants up to close with our adversaries, I cut down
one of the men who was again charging his musquet; the soldiers rushed
on, and the little phalanx of marauders was broken, but not conquered,
for each individual fought to the last with desperate courage.
It was with difficulty that I carried Laura out of the mêlée,
terrified every moment that some random shot might strike her as I
bore her in my arms. The Count de Laval was, by this time, unbound,
and rushing up to the affray; but, as he was unarmed, I gave Laura
over to his care, though I could scarcely even now master my
repugnance to see him render her the slightest assistance. Whether he
remembered me or not, I cannot tell, but he exclaimed, as he saw me
turning back towards the strife that was going on, "Nay, nay, sir,
you have had enough for one day; you take care of the lady; let me
have my share."
"You are unarmed, sir, you are unarmed," I replied, "and only risking
your life for no purpose. Carry her behind the turn of the rock, and
guard her there from danger, for God's sake!"
Without farther words, I hurried back as fast as possible, and forcing
my way in amongst the combatants, reached the spot where Monsieur de
Villardin had fallen. I found him raising himself upon his arm, and,
lifting him up, I gazed upon his face to judge whether the wound he
had received were dangerous. He recognised me instantly, and the first
words he said were, "My gallant boy! my gallant boy! must I always owe
you everything!"
"Laura is safe," I replied; "let me carry you to her." And, raising
him in my arms, I bore him round the turn of the road, where I found
the Count and several of the unarmed servants endeavouring to recal
Laura to herself. Placing Monsieur de Villardin on the bank, our whole
cares were now directed towards him, as he was bleeding freely from a
wound in his right breast, and every now and then, with a slight
cough, his mouth was filled with blood, so that I could not doubt that
the shot had passed through his lungs. The external bleeding we soon
contrived to stop; and beseeching him not to speak at all, I went back
to the scene of conflict to ascertain whether it were yet concluded. I
found that it was so, and that the guards were standing round the two
prisoners they had taken, conversing with all sorts of hurried
exclamations over the events which had just occurred.
"There are a number of wounded men here, gentlemen," I said, "who are
in need of immediate assistance. Let us ascertain the state of the
field, and we will talk of all the rest afterwards."
"And pray, sir, who are you?" demanded the inferior officer who
commanded the party of guards; "you may be one of these marauders
also, for aught I know."
"I am the Baron de Juvigny, sir," I replied, "Colonel of his most
Christian Majesty's ---- regiment of horse, and bearing the rank of
Major-General in the service. You will therefore have the goodness
to draw up your men, and assist me in examining into the state of
the wounded."
The young officer immediately obeyed; and we found that six of the
guards, three of the servants, and nine of the marauders, were either
dead or wounded. Only two prisoners, as I have said, were made besides
Gaspard de Belleville, who, for his part, stood with his arms tied
behind him, glaring sullenly upon the form of Suzette, who was lying
weltering in her blood, which not all the efforts of good old Jerome
seemed to have the slightest effect in stanching. Many a muttered
reproach, too, was her brutal husband pouring upon her head for having
betrayed him and his companions; and, as I came up, she replied
feebly, "It was your own fault. I could have put up with your cruelty.
You might have turned plunderer or marauder without my opposing you;
but when you sought to marry another woman, while I was still living,
you did that which is not to be forgiven."
"Fool!" cried the brute, in reply, "I sought to marry no other woman.
It was your brother!--He whom you have murdered, by bringing that
infernal English fiend upon us--he it was who was to have married her.
It was his fortune I sought to make, while I avenged myself at once
upon the man who has marred mine through life, who has met me and
thwarted me at every turn, and upon the old dotard, who has lent his
aid to crush me, and to raise yon worm from the dunghill. It was your
own mad, wild folly that made you think that I wanted to marry her?"
"Then why did you take from me the proofs of our marriage?" said
Suzette. "Why did you leave me at St. Aubin, and not let me know where
you were going?"
As such recriminations were not at all likely to do any service to the
poor wretch Suzette, I ordered Gaspard de Belleville to be removed to
a distance from his wife, and his person to be searched in order to
discover, if possible, all the particulars of the unfortunate affair
which had just taken place. I then turned to give directions for
bringing up litters and other conveyances to carry away the wounded,
with as little inconvenience to themselves as possible; but at that
moment I was joined by the Count de Laval, who grasped my hand, with
greater signs of friendship than I could find it in my heart to
return.
"Monsieur de Juvigny," he said, "you will be glad to hear that
Monsieur de Villardin seems better, and that the bleeding internally
as well as externally seems entirely to have ceased. Mademoiselle de
Villardin also has recovered, and wishes to see you. Let me beg you to
accompany me."
"I follow you, sir," I replied: and, still holding my hand in his,
with a smile upon his lip that I neither liked nor understood, he led
me back to the spot where I had left Laura and Monsieur de Villardin.
The Duke was seated on the bank, pale, but apparently not so much
injured as I had imagined. Laura, leaning beside him, held one of his
hands in hers, and gazed anxiously on his face. She, too, was very
pale; but, as I came forward, with the Count still holding my hand, a
bright blush spread itself over all her countenance.
"Mademoiselle de Villardin," said the Count, "here is your young
friend come in person to show you that he is unhurt; and let us
altogether offer him our thanks for the important service that he has
rendered us----" He paused a single instant, and then added,
"Monsieur de Villardin, believing it to be impossible that any young
lady can have been brought up from infancy with so worthy a gentleman,
without having felt for him affections that ought not to be
disappointed, and being myself the last man to take advantage of
accidental circumstances to seek my own happiness at the expense of
others, allow me to propose that all engagements between you and me
should be considered as henceforth null and void; and, if you will
follow my counsel, you will join these two hands for ever with your
blessing:" and, as he spoke, he placed that of Laura in mine.
Monsieur de Villardin did not venture to reply; but, while Laura, with
a burning cheek and glittering eyes, gazed earnestly upon his face, he
laid his hand upon ours, as they were clasped together, with a gentle
pressure which was quite confirmation enough. Laura spoke not, and my
heart was too full to permit the use of words. The silence became
embarrassing to all parties; and the very intense happiness that
thrilled through my heart showed me, for the first time in life, that
joy can reach such a height as to be, in some degree, even painful.
We were relieved by the approach of the young officer who had
commanded the guards, and who now came to report that, as soon as the
litters arrived, everything was prepared for our return to the Prés
Vallée. He would have the honour of escorting us thither, he said;
and, in the meantime, he gave into my hands the only paper which had
been found upon Gaspard de Belleville. It proved to be a written
agreement between that scoundrel and a person calling himself Hubert
Hubert, by which the worthy captain stipulated that, when, by the
means and with the assistance of Gaspard de Belleville, he should have
obtained possession of the person of Mademoiselle de Villardin, and
married her, he would make over to the said Gaspard one-half of
whatever portion or dowry he might force Monsieur de Villardin, at any
after period, to bestow upon his daughter. It was also expressly
stipulated, that Hubert was to carry his bride to the Colonies, for
the space of one year; and that he was likewise to provide a passage
for Gaspard de Belleville and his wife; with various other articles of
the same kind, all showing that the villains had calculated upon
Monsieur de Villardin's making up his mind, at the end of a certain
period, to recognise the marriage, however informal in law, and to
receive the daring villain who had accomplished it, as his
son-in-law.
A number of letters and papers, however, which were found upon the
body of Hubert, clearly proved that the scheme had not been laid by
him, but had been suggested by Gaspard de Belleville; and it was very
evident, from every circumstance connected with the whole affair, that
the desire of vengeance, both upon myself and upon Monsieur de
Villardin, had taken fully as much part as rapacity in the whole
design. That Gaspard de Belleville and his ruffian brother-in-law
had been lingering about in the neighbourhood of the Prés Vallée for
many weeks was clear, both from the circumstances which I had observed
on the night before my departure for Dumont, and from the fact of
Suzette having informed me that I and Laura had been watched for many
a day, in our morning meetings at the grave of Monsieur de Mesnil; and
thus it was, in all probability, that Gaspard de Belleville had
learned the means by which he could most bitterly wring my heart, as
well as that of Monsieur de Villardin. The villains had been caught in
their own scheme, it is true; but a sad number of innocent persons had
suffered as well as themselves.
To me, on the contrary,--as soon as I began to entertain hopes that
the wound of Monsieur de Villardin would not prove of a serious
nature,--the whole seemed to promise unequalled joy: and, as I sat
upon the bank beside Laura, speaking, every now and then, a few words
of hope and affection to her; and conversing more frequently with the
Count, who now took upon himself the arrangements of all our
after-proceedings, I fondly fancied that every difficulty was overcome,
that every danger was averted, and that the whole current of my days
was thenceforth to flow on in peace and happiness.
Whoever entertains such a dream will have to drink the bitter cup of
disappointment; but still the vision, though it last but for an hour,
is the brightest thing that imagination, amongst all its pageants, can
conjure up. In this state passed nearly an hour and a half: but, at
the end of that time, the tidings having been spread by Jerome's first
messenger to Rennes, and the rumour having found its way--by all the
thousand invisible channels which convey reports about the world--to
half a dozen different places in the neighbourhood of the forest,
litters, and carts, and horsemen, and pedestrians, began to arrive;
and, placing our wounded in various conveyances, we commenced our
march in long and slow procession once more towards the Prés Vallée.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
The day was just at its close as we issued forth from the forest, and
took our way towards the bridge which crossed the river. I followed
the procession on horseback amongst the last; and the whole scene,
associated as it was with many deep interests and strange memories,
was one of the most beautiful and extraordinary that ever my eye
beheld. It was a splendid autumn evening, with the sun pouring his
setting beams from the west, amidst scattered clouds tinged with every
glorious colour that the mind can conceive. The long line of litters,
and carriages, and horsemen, and foot, was winding slowly down the
slope, which led from the edge of the wood towards the stream; and far
and wide beneath my eyes--with every undulation marked by its own
peculiar shade, and every building or group of trees casting long
purple shadows as they cut off the rays of the declining sun--lay the
rich wide lands of Brittany; while round about me, dark and heavy with
the evening twilight, rose the broken masses of wood, with the
thousands of wild banks and thorny dingles which skirted the verge of
the forest. The peculiar rich light of the hour, too, spread over all
the scene; and, catching here and there upon the bright arms and gay
dresses of the soldiers and the servants, marked the different points
in the procession; while every now and then, even in the more distant
prospect, it touched some glistening object, and made it start forth,
like a diamond, from the dark lines of planting or the gray slopes of
the lulls, not unlike one of those bright goals which youth fixes for
its endeavours through life, as it stands upon the verge of manhood,
and contemplates the distant future, while imagination flashes
brilliantly on the object of desire, and lends it a lustre not its
own. There was a fascination in the moment, and the scene, and the
feelings of my own heart, not to be resisted; and I reined in my horse,
for a single instant, to gaze upon the prospect, and then followed on,
thinking, that if the beauties of nature be a substantial blessing to
man, how much does his appreciation of them depend upon the state of
his own bosom. A few hours before, I might have ridden through Tempe
at day-break, without noting that there was anything lovely before my
eyes; and now, I could not have passed a quiet dell, or a bubbling
brook, without feeling that the whole world is beautiful.
I had lingered awhile behind the rest in order to hear the report of a
party which had been sent to examine the mill, at which I doubted not
that Hubert and his companions had established their chief rendezvous:
but nothing was found there which could lead to any further discovery;
and, as soon as the other horsemen overtook me, I rode on; and, easily
passing the rest of the cavalcade, acted as their harbinger at the
Prés Vallée. I found Father Ferdinand in no small agitation; but
before giving him any particulars of the events which had occurred, I
despatched messengers to Rennes for every sort of medical assistance,
and then relieved more fully the good Father's anxiety concerning
Monsieur de Villardin and Laura.
"Are you sure, are you sure, that he is not much hurt?" he asked
eagerly, referring to Monsieur de Villardin.
"The wound certainly, at first, appeared a very serious one," I
replied; "but by the speedy cessation of the hemorrhage, and the want
of that great weakness which I have generally seen follow very
dangerous wounds, I trust there is nothing to be apprehended."
"God grant it!" replied the Priest, "God grant it!" and after gazing
upon me for a moment or two, he added, "and what is to become of you,
my son?"
I understood the meaning of his question fully, and replied, "As far
as I have been enabled to judge, good Father, there exists no further
necessity for absenting myself. The Count de Laval resigns all claim to
the hand of Mademoiselle de Villardin, and the Duke does not show any
desire to bid me return to Dumont. But--ere we are interrupted--I hear
from good old Jerome, that you despatched a messenger to me some days
since. He never reached me."
"No, no!" cried Father Ferdinand, hastily, "No, no.--It is a mistake.
I despatched no messenger to you, my son. But, hark! I think I hear
the horses' feet," and he turned to the window to look out.
He was mistaken, however; and some minutes more elapsed before the
cavalcade made its appearance. Our first care was, of course, of
Monsieur de Villardin; but though he spoke only a few words, in an
under voice, for fear of irritating the wound in his breast, and
consented immediately to go to bed, yet he walked up the stairs with
so much strength, that our apprehensions on his account were nearly
done away.
The servants and soldiers who had been wounded, were disposed of in
various parts of the building; and I aided in carrying the unhappy
Suzette to a chamber on the ground floor, as she seemed to suffer so
greatly from the slightest motion that we feared to convey her to a
more convenient apartment. As soon as we had laid her upon her couch,
I was turning to give what assistance I could in the other
arrangements, but she beckoned me eagerly back, saying, in a low,
husky voice, "I would speak with you, sir! I would speak with you
alone!"
She was evidently dying, and of course her request was not to be
refused. Desiring the servants, therefore, to attend to the safe
keeping of Gaspard de Belleville, I bade them leave me, and, closing
the door, approached the bedside of the unhappy woman, whose moments
in this life were waxing few.
"Monsieur de Juvigny," she said, in a voice so faint and inarticulate,
that it required great attention to catch the meaning of her words;
"Monsieur de Juvigny--I would fain tell you something which may be of
service both to you and to the Duke.--Do you remember, when I told you
my history once before, I said I had a third motive for bidding you
repeat it to Monsieur de Villardin?"
"Well--very well!" I replied; "but, my good Suzette, be as brief as
possible, for you are wasting your strength, and you may yet need all
you have left."
"You need not hear me, unless you please," she answered, peevishly,
and then continued, in the same low and irregular voice, "Well, I was
saying, that I had a third motive--it was this, that I knew something
that no one else knew; and I knew it, because, after I was sent
away from Dumont, I lodged for some time in the house of old
Madame----"
I lost the name, and her voice became more and more indistinct, but
still she went on:--"She used to attend sick people, you know, at
Estienne, and though she had been sworn to secrecy, yet----"
But her words became quite unintelligible, and perceiving that I did
not understand her, she paused, and gazed in my face with a painful
stare of anger and disappointment, as if my want of attention had been
the cause of my not comprehending what she said. I saw that death was
approaching fast, and I asked, in charity, "Would you wish to see your
husband, Suzette?"
She made an effort to raise herself upon her arm, as she exclaimed
distinctly, "I hate him!" but immediately sunk back upon the pillow.
In answer to another question, as to whether she would wish to see a
minister of religion, she raised her hand, and bowed her head, in
token of acquiescence; and, rising, I proceeded to seek for Father
Ferdinand.
I was told that he was in the chamber of Monsieur de Villardin, with
Laura, and old Jerome Laborde; and, taking the liberty which had
always been granted me of entering the Duke's apartments in the hours
of sickness, I proceeded immediately thither, in search of the good
confessor.
Father Ferdinand was engaged in writing a paper for Monsieur de
Villardin, who, as I entered, held up his finger to me to keep silence
till it was completed, which was not long in being done. The Duke then
read it over attentively, and turning slightly in his bed, affixed his
signature to it. The Count de Laval, who was also in the room, next
advanced and took the pen; and I could see the eyes of Laura, who was
sitting by her father's pillow, glance from him to me, beaming up as
they did so, with a look full of affection and hope. When the Count
had signed it, Laura also put her name, and Jerome and Father
Ferdinand added their own, as witnesses.
"Monsieur de Juvigny," said Monsieur de Villardin, speaking in a low
voice, which was evidently modulated from caution more than from
weakness, "what were you going to say?"
"I was merely about to tell Father Ferdinand," I replied, "that that
unhappy woman, Suzette, is below, dying, and that she requires the aid
of the church, with speed."
Father Ferdinand instantly rose to seek her, but Monsieur de Villardin
made a sign to him to pause for a moment, and, beckoning me closer to
him, he gave me the paper which he had just signed. "Although I
believe that I have been much nearer death than I am at present," he
said, "yet as all wounds such as I have received are uncertain in
their consequences, I have thought fit, my dear boy, as far as
possible, to put your happiness, and that of my dear Laura, beyond
further doubt. If I survive, I myself will join your hands; if not,
that paper will remove all difficulty on the part of others. Nay, do
not thank me, de Juvigny; Monsieur le Comte here has behaved most
nobly, and requires the gratitude of all; but I have only acted now as
I should have acted long ago. Now, my dear sir," he added, speaking to
the confessor, "seek the poor creature who desires your presence.
Perhaps when the surgeons arrive, I may wish you and de Juvigny to be
with me also; but, in the meantime, I would willingly pass half an
hour alone. Nay, leave me, dear Laura, and look not sad. Things will
go well, I am sure."
We all, accordingly, left the room. Father Ferdinand betook himself to
the bedside of Suzette. The emotions in the bosom of Laura, both
pleasurable and painful, were too many and too mixed to admit of
words, and she immediately retired to her chamber; while old Jerome
proceeded to bustle about in discharge of the various functions of his
office, so that the moment after we had left Monsieur de Villardin,
the Count and myself were left alone. My feelings towards him at that
instant would not be very easily defined even now, nor did I very well
know how to demean myself towards him, so as to express my sense of
his noble and feeling conduct, without abating my own dignity.
"Monsieur le Comte," I said, after some slight hesitation, "you have
acted nobly and generously towards me, and, therefore, I have to
return you my thanks, which I do most sincerely, for pursuing a line
of conduct that, doubtless, was the best calculated to promote your
own happiness also, but which, most certainly, has ensured and
restored mine."
"You owe me no thanks, Monsieur de Juvigny," he replied. "Having had
few opportunities of cultivating the pleasure of your acquaintance, I
cannot be supposed to have been actuated by any feeling of personal
interest towards you. The fact is, that Mademoiselle de Villardin,
some days ago, gave me to understand that her affections were
irrevocably bestowed upon another; and, however highly I might esteem
the honour of Monsieur de Villardin's alliance, of course I did not
covet the hand of a young lady, whose heart, I clearly saw, I could
never hope to possess. Other circumstances combined, I acknowledge, to
fix my determination; but once having resolved upon resigning all
claim to the honour intended for me, I saw no reason why I should not
do my best to make her happy, who had frankly informed me that she
could never make me so. Thus you see that you have no cause to thank
me, though I do not deny that it gives me great pleasure to serve a
gentleman every way so deserving as yourself."
This was spoken in that calm, polite, ceremonious sort of tone, which
put all feeling out of the question, and which seemed perfectly
intended to stop everything like an expression of gratitude. Such
being the case, I, of course, said no more upon the subject, and the
Count at once turned the conversation to the events which had lately
occurred.
"It seems to me evident, Monsieur de Juvigny," he said, "from all I
have been enabled to gather, that this attack upon our party has been
long concerted, and that nothing has prevented its execution before
but want of opportunity. I am curious, however, I acknowledge, to
ascertain how such a scheme could be long carried on without being
divulged by some accident or other. These people, it is evident, must
have watched us for some time, and must also have been very thoroughly
acquainted with all that was passing here."
"I doubt not that they were, my lord," I replied; "but, in regard to
their schemes not having been discovered, you are, in some degree,
mistaken; for the night previous to my departure from this place,
about three weeks or a month ago, I myself observed two men examining
the château, late at night, and heard a part of their conversation,
which, though it certainly did not afford me any accurate information,
at all events served to show me that some evil design was in progress.
With these facts I made Monsieur de Villardin acquainted; but it
appears that, confiding in the number of his attendants, he did not
take the necessary precautions."
"It seems," replied the Count, with a smile that I did not
particularly like--"It seems that you were more watchful over our
safety. Nay, do not look offended, Monsieur de Juvigny, I mean nothing
that should in the least hurt you, thinking it very natural that a
young lover should hover round his mistress, although he might think
that she was lost to him for ever."
"At all events, Monsieur le Comte, your conclusion is, I can assure
you, wrong. The fact is, that I received information, some time ago,
from Monsieur de Villardin himself, purporting that the marriage of
his daughter was to take place yesterday, and that he himself, with
all his family, were to set out immediately for Paris. Concluding that
this was the case, I felt myself at liberty to return to scenes that
were dear to me; and, on my arrival, was met by the woman who informed
me of your situation, and directed me to the spot where you had been
carried. I am still, however, ignorant of all the events which
preceded my finding you in the forest, and I would fain ask a detail
of them, were it not trespassing too greatly on your time."
"Oh! the whole business is very soon related," replied he.
"Mademoiselle de Villardin being so much better, and able to take the
air, her father determined to accompany her in the carriage, while I,
with four servants, escorted them on horseback. After passing the
bridge at--I forget the name of the place--we went on for about a mile
or a mile and a half towards the forest, intending to turn back ere we
reached it, when suddenly, as we were passing between two hedges, we
were saluted by a volley of musquetry, which instantly brought three
of the servants to the ground, and wounded my horse so severely as to
make him fall with me. At the same time the carriage was surrounded,
Monsieur de Villardin seized and tied before he could make any
resistance, and I, sharing the same fate, was placed beside him and
Mademoiselle in the carriage. The ruffian you shot, and his companion,
as well as another personage of the same stamp, took their places
beside us. Two of the servants who were wounded, as well as the rest
who were made prisoners, were forced to sit on their horses and follow
the rest; and we were soon carried off into the heart of the wood,
leaving none but one of the poor fellows, who had been killed upon the
spot, behind us. All this occupied a considerable time, and I was in
hopes every moment that some one, attracted by the sound of musquetry,
might come up and at least carry the news to the town. But in this
wild province one might as well be in a desert. No one appeared, and
we were dragged on into the wood, without the slightest power of
resistance. Luckily, however, the road was so bad and sandy, that we
made but slow progress; and, at length, as good fortune would have it,
just as we were going to cross the stream, the carriage was
overturned, and stuck immovable in the sand. You may easily imagine
that we afforded no great assistance to our conductors, and did not
make our movements any quicker than we were compelled to do. Thus at
least half-an-hour was consumed in endeavouring to move the
carriage, and in getting us out of it. We were then forced to walk
forwards for a considerable distance to an old mill, which seemed at
some former period to have been destroyed by fire; and here, all our
horses having been tied to the building, we were again marched forward
to the little chapel where you found us, and where we were received by
another of the band, who seemed to have a priest in his custody,
though, I must confess, the worthy clerk did not appear to be under
any very great restraint. I had remarked, as we went along, that one
of the leaders of our assailants had paid considerable attention to
Mademoiselle de Villardin, and had also learned, from some words that
Monsieur de Villardin let fall--though they took care, with pistols at
our throats, to keep us from much conversation--that the other
personage, who seemed to take a lead amongst them, had formerly been a
page in this family. I was thus the less surprised when, on reaching
the chapel, the former coolly proposed to Mademoiselle de Villardin to
become his wife; and, as a sort of mild inducement, informed her that,
unless she instantly consented, he would shoot her father, myself, and
all the other prisoners before her eyes. Of course, a considerable
discussion took place upon this point, which was cut short by your
punishing the villain as he deserved; and with everything else that
occurred, you are, perhaps, better acquainted than I am."
"The only matter that I do not know," I replied, "and which I had
forgotten till this moment, is the fate of the priest, whom I do not
remember to have seen after the beginning of the affray."
"Oh! I marked him well," replied the Count. "He slipped away into the
wood as fast as possible; and, as his clerical dress probably saved
him from interruption on the part either of the servants or the
soldiers, he was, no doubt, soon far enough from the scene of
conflict."
The arrival of the surgeons at this moment interrupted our further
conversation; and, according to the desire which Monsieur de Villardin
had expressed, I proceeded to the chamber where I had left Suzette, in
order to call Father Ferdinand to accompany the medical men to the
Duke's chamber. Knowing that the unhappy woman, even before I left
her, had been incapable of making confession, except by signs, I did
not hesitate to open the door, and I found the good priest still
standing by her bedside, but no longer engaged in offering the
consolations of religion, which now could have fallen alone upon the
deaf ear of the dead.
"It is all over, my son," he said, as he saw me. "Have the surgeons
arrived?"
I replied that they had, and he immediately followed me to the saloon
where I had left them, whence we again proceeded to the chamber of
Monsieur de Villardin. We found him perfectly composed, and willing to
submit to anything that the medical men might think proper. But, after
examining the wound, questioning their patient, and consulting long
amongst themselves, the surgeons judged it not expedient even to
attempt the extraction of the ball; but applied themselves, as far as
possible, to prevent any fever ensuing from the wound, and determined
to leave Nature herself to do what she could to relieve their patient,
before they endeavoured to assist her by the resources of art. When
they had done everything that they thought fit, they left one of their
number in the chamber of the Duke, to watch every turn in his case;
and then, accompanied by the confessor and myself, proceeded to visit
the servants and soldiers who had been wounded. As we went, Father
Ferdinand, I remarked, anxiously questioned the principal surgeon upon
the state of Monsieur de Villardin, and as to whether there existed
even a chance of immediate danger. The surgeon replied, that he saw
none whatever. The hemorrhage, he said, having spontaneously ceased,
showed that no great blood vessel had been injured, and that all that
was now to be feared was subsequent inflammation taking place amongst
some of the most delicate organs of the human frame. Satisfied with
this assurance, Father Ferdinand only requested that immediate
information might be given to him, on the first appearance of any
dangerous symptom, reminding the surgeon that, as Monsieur de
Villardin's confessor, he had very important duties to perform
towards him, as soon as it was ascertained that he was in perilous
circumstances. "I need not tell you, sir," he added, "that, with a
man of Monsieur de Villardin's nerve, the knowledge that he is in
danger would in no degree tend to impede his recovery."
The surgeon promised to give him timely notice; and, on visiting the
other wounded persons, we found that only one was beyond hope, while
all the rest bade fair for a speedy recovery. It may as well be
mentioned here, that they all did recover but one, who--as well as the
servant I had seen lying on the road, and another who had been killed
in our conflict with the robbers--was buried a few days after,
together with Suzette, in the chapel of the château.
The party of the guards from Rennes, who had arrived so promptly to
our aid, remained at the Prés Vallée all night; and, as it was late
before all the events which I have mentioned had taken place, I sent
up old Jerome Laborde to Laura's apartment to know whether she thought
fit to come down to the supper table. She declined, however, as I had
expected; and, as Father Ferdinand also retired to his own chamber,
indisposed by all the scenes which he had just gone through to partake
in anything like mirth or festivity, I was obliged to do the honours
of Monsieur de Villardin's table to the Count de Laval and the
commander of the guards from Rennes, though I would much rather have
been permitted, in silence and solitude, to think over all the events
that had occurred, and to offer up my thanks to Heaven for the change
from the deepest misery to a state of happiness, which my bitter
repinings, under a temporary affliction, had, I confess, but little
deserved. The young officer, with all the thoughtless gaiety of his
age and his profession, drank deep and sat long, and might indeed,
have continued his carousings to a much later hour, if the Count, who,
for a time, had been amused with his liveliness, at length getting
tired, had not risen unceremoniously, and wished him good night. The
young officer looked at me with a wistful glance, to see whether there
was any chance of prolonging his potations with me; but my glass,
which had long been vacant, gave him a sufficient reply, and, drinking
one deep draught to our good repose, he once more visited his troop,
and then betook himself to rest.
As all was won becoming quiet in the château, and, one after another,
its different inhabitants were dropping off to their beds, I sought
out my old friend Lise, and charged her with a message to her
mistress, expressing a hope that I might have an interview with her
the next day. Lise gave me, with a smile, the certain assurance of my
request being complied with,--especially, she said, as she herself
intended to go to Rennes, and her mistress would want some companion
who knew how to take care of her. She was going on in the same strain,
with a good deal of harmless conceit borne lightly forth to her
tongue, on the full current of joy,--the floodgates of which had been
opened in her heart by all the news she had received from her
mistress--but some persons passing to their beds interrupted our
conversation, and I proceeded once more to the apartments of Monsieur
de Villardin. By means of his ante-chamber and dressing-room, I was
enabled to enter without disturbing him; and, sitting quietly down by
the surgeon, I remained the greater part of the night, anxious to see
how it passed with his patient. At first he was somewhat restless,
but towards morning he fell into a tranquil sleep; and, auguring
better from all I now saw, than I had before fully permitted myself to
hope, I left his apartments at about three o'clock, and retired to
rest.
CHAPTER XL.
The fatigue which I had endured throughout the preceding day had been
unfelt during the time that I passed in active exertion; but the
moment my head touched the pillow, an overpowering sense of drowsiness
fell upon me; and without any of that consciousness of falling
asleep--which has, perhaps, something awful in it, from the sensible
relinquishment of intelligent existence--I passed into a state of
utter forgetfulness, which lasted between seven and eight hours. On
waking I felt that I had slept long; and dressing myself as fast as
possible, I hurried down to the saloon, in which, as a sort of
rallying point for the whole household, I was sure to find some one.
My delight may be supposed, when the one that I did find was my own
beloved Laura. To bound forward towards me, as she had done from
infancy, was her first emotion, and to it she yielded without fear,
feeling, as I, too, felt, that the pain and the apprehension which for
many a day had hung upon our morning meetings, were now cleared away,
like clouds from the sun, and that all was happiness.
"You have slept long, De Juvigny," she said, looking up in my face
with a smile; "you have slept long, and you look happy!"
"I have slept long and deeply, my beloved," I replied; "but remember,
that for the last eight nights I have hardly known what sleep is."
The tears rose in Laura's eyes; but those tears that spring, in
moments of joy, from the recollection of past sorrows, are not amongst
the least sweet things of life. "I wish, De Juvigny," she replied, "I
wish that all the hours of sleep which, during these eight days, fled
from my pillow also, could have gone and rested upon yours. But little
repose, indeed, have I known myself; and of course my thoughts,
through those long tedious nights, were not rendered less sorrowful by
thinking of all that you were suffering at the same time. But let us
not remember anything unhappy now. My father has passed a very
tranquil night, and the surgeon assures me that there is but little
chance of his wound proving dangerous."
"Is Monsieur de Villardin awake, then?" I demanded.
"He has been so for some time," she answered, "and is now sitting up
speaking with the Count, who, finding my father so much better, has
determined to set out to-day for Paris, glad to leave our dear
Brittany, and what he calls its semi-barbarous inhabitants--and our
gloomy château--and poor Laura de Villardin--and to betake himself to
courts and cities, and scenes and people, much better fitted to him
than any he has met with here."
She spoke with all the playful gaiety of former days; but I knew my
dear Laura too well to believe that she would even have jested in
regard to a man who had behaved so generously as I believed the Count
to have done, had she not known some trait in his character which
might detract a little from the apparent liberality of his conduct.
She felt sorry, however, even for the slight touch of bitterness that
had mingled with her words, almost as soon as they were spoken; and
added, "It is very wrong of me, I believe, to feel so glad of the
departure of a man who has behaved so kindly to us; and who, with the
power, and, perhaps, with some inducements, to make us very miserable,
has, on the contrary, made us very happy; but I cannot help it, De
Juvigny; and the very feelings which I detect in my own heart now,
make me tremble to think what would have been those I should have
experienced, had I been forced to marry a man I could not love. But go
now to my father, who is anxious to see you too; and your presence
will probably break off his conversation with the Count, which I am
sure has continued too long for his health already."
I lingered a moment or two more, and then proceeded to the apartments
of Monsieur de Villardin, where I found the Count in the act of taking
his leave. Father Ferdinand, also, was present; but as the good
priest remained with the Duke, I was commissioned to do all due
honours to the departing guest, and it would be vain to deny that I
felt the same satisfaction on seeing him enter his carriage, and quit
the Prés Vallée, that Laura had so artlessly expressed. I was about
to seek another moment of happiness with Laura ere I returned to the
chamber of her father, when the young commander of the guards
stepped up to me and begged a few minutes' conversation. Of course
I could not refuse; and taking him into the library as the nearest
vacant apartment, I requested him to state his commands.
"Why, the truth is, Monsieur le Baron," he said, with a somewhat
rueful air--"the truth is, one of our prisoners has contrived to slip
through our fingers."
"Which? Which? Not the one I myself made?" I cried--fearing that it
might be Gaspard de Belleville, and feeling now convinced, from all
that had happened during the last ten years, that it was not quite so
necessary, or so indifferent, to have even one bitter enemy loose in
the same world with us, as I had once thought it--"Not the one I made
myself, surely?"
"The very same," answered the young officer. "However, I trust there
is no great harm done; for it matters little which way such a fellow
meets his death. If he had been taken alive to Rennes, he would have
been hung, of course, and now he has but broken his neck. So it makes
little difference."
"Broken his neck!" I exclaimed. "Explain! explain! my good sir!"
"Yes!" he answered; "he has simply broken his neck. The fact was, you
were all so busy last night, and so much occupied with Monsieur de
Villardin and Mademoiselle, that we were obliged to dispose of him as
well as we could; and therefore, as the safest place, we put him up in
the small room at the top of the west tower. There is a buttress, you
know, runs down the side just between the windows, with a sort of
steps upon it as it grows thicker; and it would seem ^hat by this
means he fancied he could make his escape. He must have fallen,
however, in trying to reach the buttress, for his body was found quite
dead, and cold, almost exactly beneath the window of the chamber in
which he was confined."
I remembered, as he spoke, having in boyhood performed, as a feat, the
descent from that very window, while Gaspard de Belleville had stood
by and looked on, declaring that nothing was so easy, and that any one
could do it if they took the trouble of trying. Little had I thought
at the time that the very attempt would prove the cause of his death;
but I clearly perceived that the remembrance of my boyish feat, and
the apparent ease with which it had been performed, had induced the
unhappy man to make an effort for escape by that means.
In answer to my inquiries regarding the hour at which the body had
been found, the young officer replied: "Oh, it was early this morning.
I was about to march, as, of course, it is my duty to return to Rennes
as soon as possible, though I thought it right, for the safety of the
château, to remain all last night."
I smiled, and remarking that I did so, he went on, with a smile, in
return: "It was as I said, early this morning, but although I caught a
glance of Mademoiselle de Villardin a few moments ago, I thought it
useless to speak with her about it, as she has seen more of cutting
throats and breaking heads already than ladies generally like. So I
reserved my news for you, Monsieur le Baron, as you seem to command
the garrison, I think."
It is wonderful how soon a Frenchman discovers it, if there be love
going on in a house; and it was easy to see, by the gay look which
accompanied his words, to what the young officer alluded by my
commanding the garrison. Nor did I doubt that, on his return to
Rennes, he would carry a full account along with him of all the
changes which had taken place in the arrangements of Monsieur de
Villardin's family; but as those changes were very satisfactory to
myself, of course I did not now much care whether the world were a
sharer in my secret or not. Without any comment then on that part of
his speech, I accompanied him to take a view of the body of Gaspard de
Belleville, and found that as his skull had been terribly fractured by
the fall, his death must have been instantaneous. Such being the case,
I was not sorry that he had been spared all the horrors of a public
execution, and therefore I had very little to regret in his death. I
was sorry, indeed, that I had not obtained from him some explanations
in regard to all that had occurred, which he alone could have
afforded. A thousand times during the preceding evening I had been
upon the point of visiting him in his confinement; but something had
always occurred to prevent my doing so till it was too late; and, to
say the truth, it was not very probable that he would have given me
any satisfactory reply in the state of sullen despair into which he
had fallen. Nothing, however, was now to be done further than to sec
the young officer march off his men to Rennes, which he soon after
did, carrying with him the two prisoners who remained. They, at their
very first interview with the police, were recognised as arrant
malefactors; and at the end of ten days expiated many an enormity,
besides that under which we had suffered, by the forfeiture of their
lives upon the scaffold.
Once more left in the château with none but its usual inhabitants, I
immediately proceeded to the chamber of Monsieur de Villardin, whom I
found infinitely better than I could have expected. He felt that he
had been wounded, he said, it was true; but with the exception of some
slight pain and stiffness, he was as well as ever. Laura was with him
when I entered; and, with the permission of the surgeon, we remained
at his bedside for nearly an hour.
When we left him we were joined by Father Ferdinand, who, informing me
that he was about to send to Dumont for some books, suggested that by
the same messenger I should recal my servants and little Clement de la
Marke, which was accordingly done. The good priest remained with us
till after dinner, and then, perhaps feeling that both in Laura's
heart and mine there was many a topic of conversation which could not
be discussed before any one, he left us to ourselves for the rest of
the evening. How that evening passed must be imagined; for all the
happiness, and the dreams, and the rapture, and the mutual questions
and explanations that ensued, cannot be described. The cup of joy was
never drained more deeply, and never tasted sweeter, than when, after
all the agony we had suffered, we felt ourselves at length assured of
happiness, and of each other.
We were again admitted to Monsieur de Villardin for an hour before he
went to sleep; and, as he still continued wonderfully well, all
apprehensions on his account vanished, and not a drop of bitter
mingled with the sweet.
It was late when we parted; and, seeking my own apartments, I was
about to give myself up to that more quiet and contemplative
enjoyment, which had now succeeded after all the hurried and
fluttering rapture of the reciprocation of words of hope and affection
with a being so dearly loved, on the termination of all our sorrows
and anxieties; but a light tap at my door disturbed me: and, opening
it, I beheld Lise, who had spent the greater part of the day in
Rennes, appearing now with a face of some anxiety and consternation.
When one has suffered much pain and frequent disappointment, it is
extraordinary how apprehensive the heart becomes; and I immediately
concluded, from the countenance of the soubrette, that some new
misfortune or catastrophe had occurred to mar all our joy.
"Come in, Lise--come in!" I cried.--"What is the matter? You look
frightened!"
"Oh, Monsieur," she replied, "I am afraid that I have got myself into
a terrible scrape!"
Selfishness is certainly inherent in man; and it was, I confess, an
infinite relief to me to hear that her anxieties were personal. I
desired her, however, as kindly as I could, to tell me what was the
matter, promising to do everything in my power to assist her in her
difficulty.
"Oh, that you are bound to do, Monsieur le Baron," she replied: "for
it was all done on your account. But I will tell you all about it. You
remember I informed you that I knew of a priest who, for a small sum,
would marry you and Mademoiselle privately; but I did not tell you
that I went a day or two after and spoke to him all about it, being
very sure that you would be obliged to come to a private marriage at
last--which you would, too, if it had not been for all this affair.
However, as I was saying, I went and told him all about it, as we were
walking along under the Thabor, thinking that nobody on earth was
there but ourselves; and just as we had done, and he had promised to
do all that I wanted, up got a man from amongst the trees and walked
away over the mount. Well, we did not heed him particularly, but he
must have overheard all we said; for this morning, when I went down to
Rennes, I saw the priest, whose name I will not mention, and who made
such an outcry against me, saying that I had been his ruin. When I
asked what was the matter, he told me that early yesterday morning a
man came to him, saying, that Mademoiselle Lise, of the château at the
Prés Vallée, had sent him to say, that the young lady and gentleman
who were to be married, did not dare to venture into Rennes; but that
if he would follow to the old chapel in the forest, which was
regularly consecrated, they would meet him there, and that he should
have two thousand livres for his pains. Although he thought it
somewhat strange altogether, yet the two thousand livres tempted him,
and he went; but when he came there, he found himself in the hands of
the robbers, and all that horrible business took place, of which
Mademoiselle gave me such a dreadful account last night."
"So, so!" I said. "So this was the priest, was it, ma bonne Lise!
Well, all I can tell you in regard to him is, that he seemed to have
neither fear nor reluctance in obeying all that the villains told him
to do; and sincerely do I think he deserves most exemplary punishment
for his pains."
"Ah, but Monsieur!" cried Lise, "you cannot punish him without
punishing me too; for, as sure as we are all alive, he will tell
everything that I proposed to him to do, if the other matter is found
out; and then, you know, the Duke will send me away from Mademoiselle;
and then I shall die of grief and vexation; and all because I wished
to help you and my lady in your love."
Although I felt perfectly sure that Lise's acquaintance, the priest,
was as great a villain as any of the robbers in whose hands I had
found him, and doubted not that the great part of their information
had come from him, yet I thought it much better to let the matter
sleep, than, by taking any measures to punish him, to make a general
expose of all that had occurred during the last two or three months at
the Prés Vallée, which, though innocent enough on all parts, and
certainly not discreditable to any one for whom my affections were
deeply engaged, would be far better confined, as far as possible, to
our own household, without being blazed forth to the rude
evil-reporting world. For poor Lise, too--although she had certainly
acted sillily--I could not, of course, help feeling a regard, as one
of those whom she intended to benefit by the very act which was now
likely to prove of detriment to herself; and I hastened to relieve her
mind by assuring her that I would not only take no measures to bring
the offences of the priest to light, but would do all in my power to
prevent any farther investigation of the affair.
"It will be better for him," I added, speaking of the priest--"it
will be better for him, however, to betake himself to some other part
of the country for a time, as Monsieur de Villardin and a number of
the servants must have seen him, and may recognise him in the city the
first time we chance to visit it. Give him that advice, therefore, my
good Lise; and tell him that in case he wants a few livres to enable
him to change his cure for the time, they shall be furnished to him
forthwith, on the understanding that he is to quit Rennes."
Lise's heart overflowed with gratitude and satisfaction; and promising
to communicate all my directions to the priest, and undertaking that
he should obey them implicitly, she left me with a mind relieved. Nor
did I, indeed, anticipate much chance of the priest being discovered
and punished; for I am sorry to say that such offences, especially in
Brittany, were at that time suffered to pass with very singular
impunity.
I was an earlier riser on the following day than I had been on that
morning; and daybreak found me up and in the ante-room of Monsieur de
Villardin. The truth was, that the excitement of my mind was no longer
counterbalanced by the fatigue of my body, and consequently I slept
little all night, though the reveries that visited my conch were
certainly as sweet as any that ever blessed the heart of man. I was
somewhat anxious about Monsieur de Villardin, too, as the surgeon had
told me that, in case of any danger supervening from his wound, it was
likely to show itself during that night. The Duke, however, was asleep
when I entered; and though the surgeon who had sat up with him
informed me that some slight fever had appeared, he added, that it was
nothing more than the inevitable consequences of the injury he had
received, and that the slumber which followed was an indubitable sign
that no evil was to be anticipated. I remained in the Duke's
apartments till he woke, which did not take place for several hours,
and I then found him refreshed and easy, so that all apprehension was
at an end.
In the evening, my servants and Clement de la Marke arrived from
Dumont; and the boy petitioned so earnestly to see Monsieur de
Villardin, that Father Ferdinand, with the consent of the surgeon,
permitted him to do so. Monsieur de Villardin's convalescence was
progressive and rapid. Every cloud seemed wafted away from our fate;
every tear seemed wiped away from our eyes; and nothing but the smile
of joy or the sunshine of happiness was seen within the château, so
lately the abode of misery and apprehension. At the end of a few days,
Monsieur de Villardin was suffered to rise; at the end of a few more,
he was permitted to come down for some hours each day; and ere a
fortnight was over, he was walking up and down the terrace, leaning
upon my arm, more from weakness induced by the treatment he had
undergone in order to prevent inflammation and fever, than from the
actual consequences of his wound.
Our old habits were soon resumed; and it added not a little to my
happiness to see the evident pleasure with which Monsieur de Villardin
beheld the undisguised affection of his daughter and myself. Often,
indeed, he would speak of it to me in terms of the highest
satisfaction; and again and again he assured me, as he had done
before, that if he had entertained a thought that our hearts were so
deeply bound to each other, he would never, on any account, have
promised Laura's hand to another.
"As soon," he said, when conversing with me one day upon our present
circumstances, and our future prospects--"as soon as it be possible, I
will put the last seal to your union. I look upon it, indeed, as an
atonement I owe you both for not having seen your mutual affection, as
I might well have done, and for all that I was obliged to make you
suffer in consequence of my own blindness. We must, however, in the
first instance, suffer the memory of this other business to die away
in some slight degree, especially as you well know that it is, in this
country, necessary to obtain the consent of his Majesty in the first
place. I feel sure, indeed, that both your services and mine will
plead too strongly in our favour for any difficulty to occur in our
obtaining the royal approbation, which is seldom, if ever, refused
where no obstacle is raised on the part of the parents. But still,
under all circumstances, I should much wish you to serve through
another campaign, in the course of which I doubt not that you will
establish new and powerful claims upon the throne."
"I do not know, monseigneur," I replied, laughing; "but one thing I
feel very sure of, which is, that, with all the inducements I now have
to love life, and the things that it contains, I shall be certainly
much more careful of my own person than I used to be in days of old."
"That will be no disadvantage, De Juvigny," replied Monsieur de
Villardin, almost gravely. "You were always too careless of your own
person; and, in the last campaign, rash to a vice. To observe it in
you was a matter of pain and surprise to me, till I discovered your
love for Laura; and then, though fully appreciating the generous
feelings which made you prefer death rather than wrong me in the least
point, yet I was sorry to find that you should think any circumstances
sufficient to justify a man in seeking to terminate his own existence.
Do you think, De Juvigny, that I have not had cause sufficient to
snatch at death, if ever man ought to do it? Do you think that I have
not had temptations to self-destruction, had I not felt that such an
act is base and cowardly, as well as absurd?"
"I do not deny, my lord," I replied, "that some feelings, such as you
suppose, might influence me at first, after discovering what was the
state of my own heart towards Mademoiselle de Villardin. But I soon
saw the folly of yielding to them; and I can assure you, upon my
honour, that if, during the rest of the campaign, I exposed myself
unnecessarily, it was done unconsciously."
"I am glad to hear it, De Juvigny; I am glad to hear it," replied
Monsieur de Villardin; "for it was certainly the greatest fault I ever
saw you commit. However, when you join the army again, be as careful
of your own person as it is in your nature to be; and remember, that
if you fall, Laura loses a husband, and I lose a son. There are few
men," he added, smiling, "to whom one would willingly address such
cautions in sending them forth to battle. But I know that it would be
difficult to put too many checks upon you."
Although I certainly did not anticipate any farther impediment to my
happiness, yet it was very natural that I should desire to call Laura
my wife before I again joined the army. Nor did I fail to let Monsieur
de Villardin know that such was the case; but he, of course, preferred
his plan to mine, and I was obliged to yield with a good grace. At the
time that this conversation took place, which was about three weeks
after my return from Dumont, there still remained full two, if not
three, months, ere I was likely again to be called to the field; and
as one probably makes up one's mind to that which is remote more
easily than to that which is near at hand, Laura and myself did not
suffer the prospect of being once more separated before our union, to
disturb our happiness in the meantime.
There was only one thing, however, which gave me uneasiness, which
was, to observe that, although the surgeons had declared Monsieur de
Villardin to be well, and had consequently taken their leave, yet that
he himself did not seem to think his recovery so perfect as they did.
The ball was still lodged in his body, the surgeons declaring that it
had formed itself a bed under the shoulder bone, whence it could not
be extracted, and where it could occasion neither inconvenience nor
injury; but still Monsieur de Villardin complained of occasional pain,
and I remarked that, in the morning, he was more than commonly gloomy
and depressed, while every evening his spirits rose to a much higher
pitch than had been usual with him for many years, and a bright flush
took possession of his cheek, very different from its usual colour.
All this made me uneasy; and I saw that he himself was not satisfied
with his own situation, often talking of going to some of those places
in the Pyrenees, the waters of which are famous for the cure of
gunshot wounds. I did all that I could to encourage this idea, and
also to amuse and occupy his mind in the morning when he seemed most
depressed. But it was in vain that I made the latter attempt; he
seemed to love solitude, and to be somewhat impatient of interruption
or society. The autumn proved a very rainy one; and, when he was not
able to go out, he passed the greater part of the time in his
library', busily occupied in writing and arranging his papers and
affairs. From the rapid and accurate manner in which he prepared for
the future, one would have supposed that he anticipated a very speedy
termination of his life, and yet his conversation did not show that to
be the case. He spoke of many years to come, and laid out long plans
for after life: but yet, when forced to stay at home, he busied
himself with everything that could imply the speedy approach of death.
When the weather was fine, his occupations were very different. He
would saunter slowly out for hours, sometimes accompanied by Father
Ferdinand, but more frequently alone; and indeed, as I have before
said, he did not seem to covet any society. At night he sat with Laura
and myself till we separated for the evening; and I never, even when
first I knew him, beheld him so bright, so cheerful, as he appeared on
these occasions, during nearly ten days after his wound was healed.
At length one night he expressed his determination of going to Barège,
as soon as the season permitted; and laid out a plan by which I might
accompany him and Laura thither, even if an early commencement of the
campaign prevented me from remaining with them all the time of their
stay. The whole arrangement seemed to please him, and he retired to
rest, in high spirits, at about ten o'clock. The next morning he came
down sad and gloomy; and, after breakfast, ordered his hat and cloak
to be brought in, scarcely interchanging a word with any one. A glance
from Laura's eye made me offer to accompany him on his walk, but he
replied decidedly, though in a kindly tone, "No, I thank you, my dear
boy; I would rather be alone. It is a fine day, however, for the time
of year, and you and Laura had better ride or walk out together." Thus
saying, he left us; and about an hour afterwards Laura and
myself--followed by Lise, and with Clement de la Marke hovering round
us, like a scared lapwing, now hanging close to my side, now walking
on at a great distance, and affecting, with boyish playfulness, not
to intrude on the conversation of the lovers--set out to take advantage
of the short sunshine of that season.
Had not the tone of Monsieur de Villardin been so very decided in
regard to his wish for solitude, we might have endeavoured to meet him
on his walk; but now we felt that it was necessary rather to choose
some path which he was not likely to take. As Laura left it to me to
determine, I proposed that we should go to the spot which had been our
place of meeting when regret, and sorrow, and expectation of speedy
separation, served sadly to allay the brief joy of being in each
other's society for a time. We had not been there since the whole had
been reversed; and as our fears for the future had then served to
deaden the enjoyments of the present, the remembrances of the past now
tended only to enhance, in the highest degree, all the delight of the
moment, and the anticipation of bright joys in the time to come.
Everything that we saw as we walked along recalled some idea of
painful separations now to take place no more--of dreams constantly
dispelled by the consciousness that they were but dreams--of happiness
turned into misery, by the certainty that it must end--of wishes that
had become pangs, from the expectation of their disappointment. But
now the recollection of such things in the past added, as I have said,
a zest to all the joy of our hearts; and it would be necessary to
know, or rather to feel, how deeply two hearts can be attached to each
other, before any one can conceive how bright--how glorious--how
dream-like was the happiness that we then experienced!
Thus we wandered on from meadow to meadow, and from grove to grove,
till at length the scene of our meetings, the tall gigantic trees, the
soft green turf, the small rise in the ground, connected in my mind
with so many various memories, presented themselves to our eyes, still
beautiful and soft, though any leaves that lingered on the trees were
withered, and the grey hue of approaching winter was over all the
scene.
A few steps taken forward, however, showed me something lying in a
heap, as it were, upon the very grave of the Count de Mesnil; and a
sudden sinking of my heart took place, with feelings of apprehension
that I could not well explain. The same sight had caught the eyes of
Laura also; and, pointing forward, she exclaimed, "What is that?" As
she did so, she paused for a single instant, but at that moment fear
seemed to become prophetic in her bosom. Where we stood it was
certainly impossible for her to discern even the form of a human
being; but exclaiming, "Good God! it is my father!" she drew her arm
from mine, and darted on with the speed of light.
I followed as quick as possible; but ere I overtook her, she reached
the foot of the tree, and, with a shriek of horror, dropped down as if
she had been shot. There was, indeed, sufficient cause: for there,
stretched upon the very grave in which his hand and mine had laid his
adversary, with his hat fallen off on one side, and his outstretched
hand clasping a rosary, appeared the inanimate form of Monsieur de
Villardin, with an immense quantity of blood which had flowed from his
mouth and nostrils, deluging the turf on every side, and dabbling his
mantle and his left arm, which was stretched upon the ground.
The great loss of blood, the position in which he had fallen, the
rigidity of his form when I endeavoured to raise him, all showed me
that he, who, for so many years, had been my friend, and more than my
father--with whom I had gone through such scenes of interest--who had
shown me such undeviating and disinterested affection,--was no more a
being of this earth. I never felt mortality more bitterly; but on him
all care was vain, and my attention--as well as that of Lise and the
page--was directed towards his unhappy child, whose temporary loss of
feeling and reflection was, perhaps, the best thing that could happen
to her at the time. I bore her in my arms to one of the woodmen's
cottages at about half a mile distance, sending the boy back with
all speed to the château for aid and assistance.
All the inhabitants of the building were soon poured forth; the body
of Monsieur de Villardin was removed to the castle; and the carriage
having been procured, poor Laura was carried back to her own
apartments, falling from one fainting fit into another, with intervals
only sufficient to recall the horrible sight she had beheld, ere she
was again lost in unconsciousness.
CHAPTER XLI.
I Left Laura in the hands of her women; and despatching a messenger
for medical aid from Rennes, turned, with a heavy heart, to the
library, in which the body of the Duke had been placed. The room was
crowded with servants, gathered together in a semi-circle at the end
nearest the door, and gazing forward towards the corpse, while a
feeling of reverence and awe kept them from approaching farther, as
Father Ferdinand, with a degree of emotion which I had never before
beheld in him, stood near the head of his dead friend, and wept aloud.
Clement de la Marke had crept close up, and wept also; and passing on,
I, too, gazed upon the countenance which had beamed so many kind
things upon me, and I joined my tears to theirs.
It was a sad and sorrowful sight; and in grief and deep mourning
passed over that day, and many that succeeded. Messengers were sent
round all the country to every relation and friend of the deceased
nobleman; and as there was no necessity for immediate interment, the
funeral was delayed till the old Count de Loris could arrive, as it
was believed that to him had been assigned the temporary guardianship
of Mademoiselle de Villardin, and the execution of the will of the
deceased. Every direction was given, and every measure taken by Father
Ferdinand, who seemed to feel himself fully justified, by his long
friendship with Monsieur de Villardin, to take the command of all,
till such time as his own will could be ascertained. Laura was, of
course, incompetent to make any of the painful arrangements herself;
and to me and Father Ferdinand she seemed to cling with redoubled
affection, from the bereavement which she had just undergone. During
the ten days which the funeral was delayed, the body of Monsieur de
Villardin was embalmed, and in the course of that operation, it was
discovered that the ball which he had received in the forest had
lodged close upon one of the large blood vessels of the chest, and
although it had not wounded the artery at the time, yet that it had
created a degree of inflammation round it, which had gradually worn it
away, so that probably the great emotion to which Monsieur de
Villardin had subjected himself, in visiting, for the first time, the
scene of the Count de Mesnil's death, had caused a rupture of the
vessel, which might not otherwise have taken place for months.
At length Monsieur de Loris arrived; the friends and relations of the
deceased nobleman were all assembled; and the funeral took place. I
shall not pause on so sad a ceremony, which was, perhaps, more painful
to my feelings, from the careless indifference of the many who
attended it, contrasting with the grief of my own heart. As soon as it
was over, the notaries opened the seals which had been placed upon all
the papers of Monsieur de Villardin; and as Laura had refused to be
present, Monsieur de Loris, on her part, received the large packet of
freshly written papers, to which the notary, who had been so
constantly with the Duke for some weeks, guided us at once. The first
thing that appeared was the will of the deceased nobleman, which had
been drawn up a few days before his death; and which, though it gave
great dissatisfaction to his two nearest cousins, was exactly such as
those who knew him best might have anticipated. He appointed three
guardians to his daughter--Father Ferdinand, the Count de Loris, and
myself, at the same time expressing, in the strongest manner, his will
that she should become my wife as soon as a decent space of mourning
for his loss was over. He here, too, pointed out what had been evident
before, that he felt his life would not be of long duration; and he
stated precisely that it was his intention to see me united to his
daughter, if he lived long enough; in which case, of course, that will
was to be considered as null and void. He then went on to dispose of
his property, leaving all his hereditary estates, which, as well as
those of his wife, naturally descended to his daughter, to follow the
legal course; but from the wealth which, in the retired life he had
generally led, he had accumulated to a very great extent, and from the
lands he had purchased, he made many bequests. All his old servants
were amply provided for; a number of charities and religious
institutions were remembered with great liberality; a year's rent was
remitted to all his tenants; and stating it to be a personal mark of
his affection and gratitude towards me, for many benefits that he
could never sufficiently repay, he left me all the rest of his
purchased lands, forming, together, a fortune superior to that of many
of the first nobles in France.--His relations in general, with whom,
as I have before stated, he lived in terms of no great affection, were
not even mentioned; and I could see many a heavy brow knit upon me,
with passions which might have found a louder tongue, had it not been
well known that I was not one to pass over insult or injury in
silence. The same persons who had been appointed guardians to
Mademoiselle de Villardin were required to see the will put in
execution; and to them were added Monsieur de Vins, the governor of
the province of Brittany, to whom a handsome legacy had also been
assigned.
The two nearest relatives of the late Duke, after listening
attentively to the document, which was read by the notary, declared
their intention of endeavouring to set aside, at least, that part of
it which appointed strangers to be the guardians of the young heiress,
citing the custom of Brittany, which bestowed that office upon the
nearest of kin. But the notary, with a smile, pointed out that
Monsieur de Villardin had been fully aware of that fact, and had taken
the means provided by the law for effectually barring their claim; and
read, at the same time, a note appended to the will, in which the Duke
formally declared, that he had considered their title to the
guardianship, and, after mature deliberation, had rejected it,
believing them to be unfitted for it by their views of private
interest. Mortified, disappointed, and affecting great indignation,
they quitted the room, and sought their horses, while the notary
proceeded to lay before us the other papers. Of these, several were
addressed to Monsieur de Loris, several to Father Ferdinand, and
several to myself. Amongst the last, I found a letter to the King
himself, and in the envelope a desire expressed that I would send it
to Paris immediately, and afterwards would deliver, in person, to his
Majesty, the baton of field marshal which Monsieur de Villardin had so
lately received.
As all the other papers found were of a private nature, we now left
the library, and, having eaten and drank as if they came on a festive
rather than a mournful occasion, those who had been called to the
funeral dropped away one by one, and the house resumed its calm and
gloomy solitude. As yet I had scarcely had time to speak with Monsieur
de Loris, but I now found the worthy old man as full of affection and
regard for me as when last we met. He was overjoyed, he said, that
Monsieur de Villardin had fixed upon one as a husband for his
daughter, who had already shown that he was capable of protecting her
in any circumstances of difficulty or danger. He asked a number of
questions, however, concerning my family, and although, to avoid
hurting my feelings, he did so under the semblance of taking an
interest in my history and affairs, yet I could see that the good
Count was anxious to assure himself that the heiress of the houses of
De Villardin and Loris was not about to make a _mésalliance_. I answered
him frankly and candidly, and I was happy to find that my replies gave
him every sort of satisfaction. The Earl of Norwich, he said, of whom
I had spoken, was then in France, and, he doubted not, would be happy
to see the son of his old friend.
I was not a little delighted to find that he was so, as it gave me the
means of confirming, at once, to any one interested, all the facts
which I have related connected with my early history. While my
conversation took place with the old Count, Father Ferdinand had
retired to his own apartments; and, when I had explained to Monsieur
de Loris everything concerning myself, and a number of other events
connected with Monsieur de Villardin, we sent up to inquire after
Laura's health, and whether we might be permitted to wait upon her.
She replied, however, that she felt too unwell to see even her dearest
friends at that moment, but that she hoped to have recovered
sufficient composure, by the following morning, to receive us both.
The rest of the evening was principally spent in my own apartments,
looking over the papers which Monsieur de Villardin had left addressed
to myself; and certainly all the signs of strong affection and regard,
which were found in every line, tended to make me feel more deeply
than ever the loss I had sustained. The papers consisted chiefly of
kind admonitions and advice concerning my own conduct in the high
station of life which I should be called to fill in France after my
marriage with his daughter, and of directions as to the manner of
obtaining most easily the King's signature to our marriage contract.
Amongst others, he gave me a copy of the letter which he had himself
written to his Majesty, and which made it his last and dying request,
that the monarch would confirm the arrangements he had made. He also
informed the King that he had desired me to write to his Majesty
immediately, requesting his consent, in order that Mademoiselle de
Villardin might not be longer than necessary without that degree of
protection which none but a husband or a father could afford.
Such manifold proofs of confidence, and such minute care for my
happiness and welfare, were far more gratifying to my heart than the
splendid fortune he had left me, or, indeed, than anything he could
bestow, except the hand of that dear girl whose heart already was my
own. It was late at night before the reading of all these papers, and
the reflections to which they gave rise, came to an end; and towards
two o'clock I retired to bed, resolving to consult Monsieur de Loris
and Father Ferdinand the next morning concerning the terms in which I
was to address the King, a matter wherewith I was very little
acquainted. The next morning, however, I was up early; and, as I was
descending towards the saloon, I was waylaid by Lise, who informed me
that her mistress was anxious to see me, for the first time after her
father's funeral, without any other persons being present; and
feeling, equally with herself, how much better it was that it should
be so, I gladly followed to the little boudoir attached to her
apartment.
She was sitting watching for my coming, with her feelings still highly
excited; and the moment she saw me she rose, threw herself into my
arms, and wept long and bitterly. It was as if she had said, "I have
none but you now upon the earth. Forgive me if I mourn for those that
are gone." When the first burst of tears was over, she spoke more
calmly, and, in a long and interesting, though often painful,
conversation, frequently interrupted by tears, she suffered me to
recapitulate to her all that had been done, and to tell her exactly
the state in which she stood. In the end, as it was necessary that she
should make an effort to resume her usual occupations, she suffered me
to lead her down to the saloon; and, though every now and then some
object, or some association, would agitate her for a time, our
conversation was here renewed, and proceeded more tranquilly, till, in
about half-an-hour after, we were joined by Father Ferdinand and the
Count de Loris. Laura received them with less painful emotions than I
had expected; and the day passed over sadly, indeed, and gloomily, but
calmly, upon the whole. When informed of the nature of her father's
letter to the King, she wished much that it should be delayed for a
day or two; but when it was explained to her that to do so might give
high offence, she yielded at once; and in the evening I applied to
Monsieur de Loris and Father Ferdinand for directions as to the form
and manner in which I was to couch my application to the King.
"My dear young friend," replied Monsieur de Loris, "I never was happy
enough to be married myself, and consequently cannot exactly tell you
what are the precise terms you should use in requesting the King's
consent to your union with my niece."
"I think I can direct you, my son," replied Father Ferdinand, "though
I have never been married either;" and, taking up the pen, he wrote
down the copy of a formal letter to the King, with as much ease and
accuracy as if he had been accustomed, throughout his life, to the
etiquette and ceremonial of courts, rather than to the shade of the
cloister and the retirement of the country. After referring to the
directions which I had received from Monsieur de Villardin to that
effect, he begged to know when I might be permitted to lay at his
Majesty's feet the baton of field-marshal, which I was charged to
deliver; and, in requesting the signature of his Majesty to my
marriage contract with Mademoiselle de Villardin, it was obvious that,
though he avoided everything which might look like presumption, yet he
took care not to assume that the King would at all hesitate to grant
my request.
With many thanks, I copied the paper exactly, and the next morning it
was despatched to Paris by a special messenger. The old Count de
Loris, who was kindness itself, agreed to remain with us till after my
marriage with Laura had taken place; and, as it was naturally
concluded that it would be more agreeable to me to remain at the Prés
Vallée with my future bride, Father Ferdinand undertook to make all
the arrangements at Dumont, rendered necessary by M. de Villardin's
decease; and he set off the following morning, accompanied by Clement
de la Marke, whose eagerness for every change of scene and place put
me not a little in mind of my own younger days.--Laura's grief for the
loss of her father abated but slowly; yet still, as ever with the
human heart, the calm hand of time was continually taking something
from the poignancy of her first affliction. We passed almost the whole
of our hours in each other's society; and, though softened by our
mutual sorrow for the dead, those hours still remain among the bright
things on which memory can rest so sweetly, and which she preserves
for after years, as a store of treasured enjoyments for the wintry
season of our age.
Of course we felt some anxiety for the return of our messenger from
Paris; for though we never anticipated for a moment that the King
would make any opposition to our marriage, sanctioned as it had been
by Monsieur dc Villardin himself, yet, when that which we ardently
desire is shadowed by even the smallest doubt, the heart can never
rest satisfied till certainty is substituted in the place of hope. At
the end of eight days Father Ferdinand returned from Dumont; and two
or three days more passed in hourly expectation of our messenger's
appearance. We were well aware that common couriers, unless on some
very extraordinary occasion, always take their time upon the road; but
when another day passed, and another, and a whole fortnight elapsed
without my receiving an answer to my application, we all became
uneasy, and I even thought of setting oft' myself to Paris, to
ascertain the cause of the delay. At length, late one evening, the
messenger was ushered in, just as we were about to proceed to the
supper-room. He instantly presented to me a packet; and, without
ceremony, I cut the silk and opened it, when, within the envelope, I
found a paper containing the following words, as the only reply which
the King had vouchsafed to my request:--
"DE PAR LE ROY.
"Il est ordonné au Sieur Baron de Juvigny, Colonel du ---- régiment
actuellement en Bretagne, de se rendre a la ville de Senlis pour y
joindre son régiment. Fait à Fontainebleau, le 9 Février, 1658. LOUIS."
The paper dropped from my hand, and I believe that I turned deadly
pale; for Laura, whose eyes were fixed upon me as I read, clasped her
hands, exclaiming, "Good God! De Juvigny, what is the matter?" Father
Ferdinand raised the paper, and, giving the messenger a sign to
withdraw, read it aloud, while we all gazed upon each other in no
small grief and consternation. The good Father's brow contracted
strongly, and he said, "This is, indeed, unfavourable,--I might almost
add, ungrateful, after all that has been done in the royal cause, at
moments of its greatest need, by the two men whose best designs and
dearest wishes the King appears inclined to thwart."
"It can only be," said Monsieur de Loris, "that that foreign minion,
Mazarine, knowing that our dear girl here is one of the greatest
heiresses in France, designs to give her to some of his own creatures;
but I will apply to the King myself; and fear not, my dear De Juvigny,
for I will leave no means untried to obtain what we all desire, and I
promise you, as a man of honour and a French nobleman, never to
consent to her marriage with any person but yourself."
"I promise you the same, my son," added Father Ferdinand; "and, though
it is long since I have set my foot in Paris, and I had hoped never to
do so again, yet I will journey thither, and will make my voice heard
in a manner which I do not think can be disregarded. Laura, too, must
be firm; but I know that she will be so," he added. "Her father's
will, her own affection, her positive promise, all bind her to you, De
Juvigny, morally and religiously, as much as if she were your wife;
and I solemnly declare not only that she ought not, but that she
cannot, many any other person."
"Never," said Laura, firmly, "never. Give me a pen and ink, De
Juvigny. Let me make it irrevocable, that I may always have an answer
ready to any one who may press me on the subject;" and, sitting down
to a table, she wrote, with a rapid and somewhat trembling hand, a
far more forcible renewal of the promise which was implied in the
paper which had been given me by her father.
I had remained in silence, and almost stupified, while all this took
place: but I now laid down the order to join my regiment on the table,
saying, "I will immediately resign my command in his Majesty's
service. I know that Laura cares not for splendour or station, and I
will request her to become mine, before any one can separate us. All
that the utmost tyranny can do is to deprive her of those estates,
which others value more than we do; and we have enough, without them,
to render us happy and independent, in whatever land we may choose to
make our home."
"No, no, De Juvigny," cried Father Ferdinand; "you are too hasty, my
son. As yet we cannot at all tell what are the real intentions of his
Majesty; and well might he feel himself offended and insulted by such
want of confidence in his justice, and such precipitate haste. When
the will of our late friend is laid before him--when the solicitations
of Monsieur de Loris, and all whom he can interest, have been
heard--when a number of peculiar circumstances, which I have to relate,
are made known to the royal ear--there can be very little doubt that
his Majesty will yield his consent; and even should he not, if you are
inclined to take Laura portionless, it will always be in your power to
do so, after having shown a noble obedience to the commands of the
King, and a due estimation of the duty of a soldier. Perhaps it may be
his Majesty's design merely to try you; and, in that case, I would not
for the world you should be found deficient, after having
distinguished yourself so honourably already in his service. No, no.
Take my advice. Obey at once; and, depend upon it, such conduct will
meet its reward."
I felt convinced in my heart that the line of conduct which Father
Ferdinand suggested was that which my duty called upon me to pursue:
but passion, of course, led me a contrary way; and I still urged my
own plan, arguing that means might be taken to prevent my ever seeing
Laura again. This, however, they showed me was impossible; and
Monsieur de Loris joined his arguments strongly to those of Father
Ferdinand. I found, too, that Laura herself had an invincible
repugnance to wedding any one so soon after her father's death, as the
scheme which I proposed implied. I was obliged to abandon it, then,
and nothing remained but to obey immediately the order I had received,
without even hesitation or remonstrance.--Father Ferdinand and
Monsieur de Loris promised to set out for Paris as soon as possible,
and seemed so confident of being able to effect the object that they
sought, that they restored some degree of hope to my heart, which had
almost been given up to despair, when I first beheld what the
packet had contained.
One day was needed for preparation: but, when once my determination
was fixed, I felt that the sooner it was executed the better; and, on
the second morning after receiving the royal commands, taking leave of
all that I loved on earth, with pain and apprehension, on which I
shall not dwell, I mounted my horse, and, followed by my little train,
rode off to join my regiment at Senlis.
CHAPTER XLII.
On arriving at Senlis it became sufficiently evident, from the state
of inactivity in which I was left, that the object of the King, or
rather of his minister, was solely to remove me from the neighbourhood
of Mademoiselle de Villardin; and that no real necessity existed for
my presence with a regiment quartered at a distance from any danger,
and employed in no service whatever. Although the rash despair to
which I had formerly yielded had now quitted my mind, I trust, for
ever, yet I fell into a state of deep despondency, from which I was
only roused for a moment on those days when I received one of the
frequent letters with which Laura endeavoured to console me. From
Father Ferdinand and the Count de Loris I heard less frequently, and
their letters, certainly, gave me less food for hope than those of
Laura. They had left the Prés Vallée about ten days after I myself had
quitted it, and had proceeded to Paris to petition the King in person.
As it was judged expedient to secure some female companion for the
young heiress during the absence of all her guardians, one of the nuns
of St. Ursula, having obtained a dispensation to that effect, remained
with Laura at the Prés Vallée; but, as she exercised no control over
her actions, this arrangement did not at all interrupt our constant
communication. The journey of Father Ferdinand and the Count, however,
produced no very rapid effects. Several weeks passed before they could
obtain a private audience; and when, at length, it was granted, the
only reply they received was, that the King acknowledged my services,
and would consider my claims.
It appeared to me that no great consideration was wanting; but while
this intentional delay continued, the month of May ushered in our
military operations. The King put himself at the head of the army
destined to cover the frontier; and Turenne led a small force, of
which my regiment formed a part, to the siege of Dunkirk. I will not
pause upon the details of a campaign which, having taken place so
lately, is too well known to need any relation. My own conduct during
the year that followed was, of course, greatly affected by the
circumstances in which I stood. Although I did not forget the
exhortations to prudence which I had received from Monsieur de
Villardin, yet it was not in my nature to calculate personal dangers;
and the eagerness which I now felt, by important services, to shame
down all opposition to my just claims, quickened every faculty, and
made me lose no opportunity. As I knew, however, that the eye of the
bravest, but most cautious, general of the age was upon me, I
endeavoured, as far as possible, to guard against even the appearance
of imprudence; and, luckily, I was in this, at least, quite
successful. Knowing that in the siege a cavalry regiment would
probably have but little opportunity of distinguishing itself, I
endeavoured, in our march upon Dunkirk, to find those occasions for
service which I might afterwards be deprived of; and as the enemy's
preparations were rapid and energetic, I was tolerably successful. The
greatest service which I was thus enabled to render was at the passage
of the Lys. Having been thrown forward to reconnoitre, I came suddenly
upon a redoubt of the enemy, placed to defend the very passage upon
which the army was marching. I was suffered to approach so near
without being noticed, that I thought I might as well push on; and,
dismounting one of the troops, I was in possession of the place, to my
own surprise, as well as that of the Spaniards, before they knew
anything of our approach.
But two men were lost in the momentary struggle which took place in
the redoubt; and instantly sending news to the Marshal of our
unexpected success, I had the satisfaction of seeing the army pass the
river without the slightest opposition. At night I was called to the
quarters of Monsieur de Turenne, with whom I had a long private
interview, in which I explained to him my precise situation, and told
him the great incentive to exertion which was now before me.
"Well, well, my son," he said, in a kindly tone, as I took my leave;
"well, well, I will do my best for you; and fear not that your
services shall have a fair report at Court."
This promise with some men might not have implied much, but it was
Turenne who spoke, and the words did not convey one half of his
intentions in my favour. The siege of Dunkirk succeeded; and no day
passed without my being furnished with some means of obtaining honour
and applause. I endeavoured to deserve such kindness; and whether
employed in covering the foraging parties, or in the more laborious
and less glorious occupation of bringing fascines, I tried, by
activity, perseverance, and care, to distinguish myself from others to
whom the same services were assigned. At length the Spanish army,
commanded by the Prince de Condo, advanced to the succour of Dunkirk,
and the famous battle of the Sand Hills took place. Under the command
of the Marquis of Castelnau, my regiment formed part of the left wing,
which, marching along the river, turned the enemy's flank; and I had
here every opportunity of displaying whatever military qualities I
might possess. My men seconded me most gallantly; and the Marquis de
Castelnau being severely wounded, the command of the two thousand
seven hundred men, of which alone that division was composed, fell
upon me for the time.
Turenne himself thanked me the next morning, at the head of my
regiment, for the services I had rendered; and Dunkirk having
surrendered shortly after, I heard, with no small satisfaction, that
the young King himself, with all his Court, was about to visit the
camp. Unfortunately, the smallness of our force, and the great want of
cavalry, caused the regiments of horse to be in continual requisition;
and two days before the arrival of the King, I was detached towards
Bergues, in order, as far as possible, to prevent the enemy from
taking measures to retard our progress in the siege of that town,
which was now determined. I saw that Turenne was grieved when he gave
the order; but, of course, he could suffer no private consideration to
interfere with the service of the King.
Bergues was soon taken, and a number of other places followed, the
most important of which was Gravelines. At length the siege of Ypres
was determined; but ere the trenches were opened, an event occurred
which prevented my witnessing the rest of the campaign. In the course
of our march upon Menin, a report reached head-quarters, that the
Prince de Lignes, with a small force, was posted at the distance of a
league and a half, and Turenne immediately detached the Comte de Roye
in order to dislodge the enemy. My regiment formed part of the force
under that officer's command; and the position of the Prince de Lignes
was soon forced, his infantry nearly cut to pieces, and his cavalry in
full retreat. The pursuit was entrusted to myself, and I followed the
enemy almost to the gates of Ypres. There, however, they rallied, made
a gallant charge, and in the melee I received a severe cut on the
head, which passed through my helmet and even wounded the skull. I was
under the horse's feet in an instant, but luckily I received no
further injury; and when I recovered from the stunning effect of the
blow, I found myself a prisoner in the town of Ypres.
Surgeons were busy dressing my wounds, and one or two officers of some
rank were standing round the table on which I had been laid. As I
opened my eyes, one of the lookers-on bade another tell the Prince; and
in a moment after, the Prince de Lignes was standing by my side. After
asking the surgeon whether he might speak with me, with due regard to
ray safety, and hearing his opinion that I was not seriously injured,
he addressed me by my name.
"Monsieur de Juvigny," he said, "we are happy in having taken an
officer of your merit and distinction, as probably you can give us
some information which the other prisoners are either not able or not
willing to afford. What we wish to know is, whether Monsieur de
Turenne does or does not really intend to sit down before this place?"
I felt some difficulty in articulating; but I replied as well as I
could, "You must be aware, sir, that it is my duty to refuse answers
to all such questions."
"Certainly," he rejoined, "if by so doing you contributed to put us on
our guard, or to afford any facility for opposing the enemy; but I
give you my honour that we have neither means nor inclination to make
any farther preparations than we have done for the defence of the
place, and my sole purpose in asking the question is, to send away,
out of pure compassion, a number of the poor and needy citizens, who
must die of starvation if Monsieur de Turenne attempts to reduce the
place by famine; which must be his plan if he have any design against
Ypres, as I find he has no battering train with his army. As a good
soldier, and a worthy gentleman, you will see at once that every
principle of humanity requires me to clear the town of all unnecessary
mouths. You yourself, and all the other wounded and prisoners, must be
sent off to Brussels, at all risks, if such should be the intention of
the French general: so answer me candidly, I entreat you."
"Sir," I replied, "you must judge of what _your_ duty requires of
_you_--mine is straightforward. If it be the intention of Monsieur de
Turenne to starve you out, the more persons you have to feed, the
better for his purpose; and although, I confess, I would fain escape
being sent to Brussels in my present state, yet I can give you no
information."
"I must even send you thither, then," replied the Prince; and in a
brief conversation with the other officers present, I heard him say,
"Oh! depend upon it, if they were not determined to attack the place,
he would say so, to avoid the journey."
"No, indeed, Monsieur le Prince!" I exclaimed. "You are mistaken. I
would not give you one tittle of intelligence if I knew that Monsieur
de Turenne was going to retread his steps to-morrow."
The Prince smiled, and left the room; and after having been tended
carefully during the rest of that evening and the following night, I
was put into a carriage early the next morning, and, with a number of
other wounded persons, as well as prisoners, and all those who were
desirous of quitting the town, was sent on, not indeed to Brussels,
but to Tournay.
Fearful that a report of my being killed might reach Laura, I sat up
at the first halting-place, and--in spite of all remonstrances from a
surgeon who accompanied us--wrote a letter to the Prés Vallée,
assuring her, that though a prisoner, and slightly wounded, I was in
no danger. Of this letter the commander of our little escort, a
gallant young Spaniard, who spoke French very tolerably, took charge,
promising to despatch it to France by the very first opportunity.
Whether it was the heat of the weather, the fatigue of the journey,
or, as the surgeon predicted, the exertion of writing which irritated
my wound, I cannot tell, but, ere I reached the end of our second
day's march, I was in all the raving delirium of a high fever. For
nearly three weeks the days passed over my head without leaving any
remembrance behind them; and when I recovered my senses, I found
myself reduced to infant weakness, and lying in a chamber which was
evidently not the ward of an hospital, as my last recollections
induced me to believe would be the case. It was a small neat room,
cool and shady; and I found a nurse constantly by my bedside, while a
surgeon visited me three times each day.--At first I was much too
feeble to ask any questions; but, on the second or third morning after
I began to recover, I begged the nurse to toll me where I was, when,
to my surprise, I was told that I was in Tournay, and in the quarters
of the Prince de Condé. The next day I was visited by several French
officers, who had accompanied his Highness into exile; and when I was
well enough to sit up for a short time, the Prince himself
condescended to visit me, and remained with me alone for a full
hour, making me tell him my whole history. The fate of Monsieur de
Villardin, of which he had not yet heard, seemed to grieve him
much; and when he left me he said, with one of those frank,
brilliant smiles, which sometimes illuminated a countenance that
usually was more striking than prepossessing, "Well, well, De
Juvigny, I will think of what I can do to serve you; and as
hostilities are suspended, and a treaty of peace is under negotiation,
I may have it more in my power to show you that I have not forgot
Vincennes, than I have yet had since we met there."
I trusted that it might be so, especially as I had candidly told the
Prince my situation in regard to Mademoiselle de Villardin, only
hoping when I did so, to obtain my liberty more speedily. The news,
however, that hostilities were suspended, and that peace was likely to
be concluded, gave me the hope of soon holding my beloved Laura to my
heart once more, as no pretext for separating us again would then
exist. Having now shown my obedience to the monarch I served, and
fully done my duty as a soldier, I determined to yield no more; and
resolved, as a last resource, if any attempt should be made to reject
my claim to Laura's hand, to beg her to unite her fate to mine,
without the consent of any monarch on the earth, and try our fate in
my native land, where the prospects were now brightened by the death
of the usurper.
From that day till I had completely recovered my health, I did not
again see the Prince de Condé; and, on inquiring for him when I was
well enough to go out, I found that he was absent from Tournay, and not
likely to come back for more than a week. These tidings vexed me a
good deal, as I was now most anxious to return to France. No
opposition, however, was made to my going out into the town, or even
beyond the gates; and I found every facility of obtaining money
amongst the merchants of the place. Thus I might at any time have
effected my escape, had I been so inclined. But although my parole had
never been even asked, the kindness which had been shown me by the
Prince was a surer bond than links of iron; and I lingered on in
Tournay with some degree of fretful impatience, but still gaining
additional strength and health every hour. Had I known where to
address a letter to his Highness, I certainly would have written to
him; but he was moving from place to place, and even the French
officers who remained in Tournay could not give me the necessary
information. Thus passed nearly four weeks; and the world again began
to assume the aspect of spring. It was now more than a year since I
had seen Laura, and fully four months since I had heard from her or
from Father Ferdinand; and there was a sort of dim uncertainty about
the events which might have taken place in the interim that made my
heart sometimes feel sick with apprehension.
At length, one night when I had returned _home_--as I called my little
room in the Prince's quarters--more gloomy than ever, and was sitting
by lamp-light, consoling myself in the only way I could devise, by
writing to Laura for the third or fourth time since my recovery, I
heard a good deal of bustle in the courts, and in about an hour
afterwards, I was summoned to attend the Prince de Condé. Overjoyed at
his return, I hurried to his presence, and found him quite alone. I
believe the gladness of my heart sparkled out upon my countenance; for
though there was a good deal of vexation and chagrin in his own face,
yet he smiled when he saw me.
"You seem glad of my return, De Juvigny," he said, "but I am going to
send you away from me directly. When I offered to set you free in
Paris, in recompence for former services, or to reserve the
consideration of them till another moment and put you to ransom, I did
not think I should be so long ere I could do anything for you. Even
now, all I can do is to make a messenger of you. However, the letter
with which I am about to charge you may be worth the pains of
carrying, if you know how to take advantage of it. The fact is, Spain
and France are negotiating. Spain holds out on my account. The whole
business annoys me. I fear not to be left to stand or fall by my own
strength; and I do not wish to delay the arrangement of peace, so
necessary to both countries, for any private interests of my own. I
have consequently written this letter to Don Louis de Haro, the
minister of his Catholic Majesty, beseeching him to put my personal
affairs entirely on one side, while considering the far more important
business of peace. No one more eagerly desires the conclusion of the
negotiations than my royal cousin Louis of France; and to him I now
send you, begging you to put this letter for Don Louis into the King's
own hands, and request him, on my part, to make what use of it he
will. The man who brings it to him, De Juvigny," he added with a gay
smile, "may well command the hand of the first heiress in France; and
if I obtain for you, by this means, the woman that you love, I shall
conceive that I have acquitted myself well towards you."
I need hardly say that my gratitude was deep and sincere, and after
expressing it as well as I could, I received the Prince's farther
directions; and the next morning mounted a horse I had bought in the
city, and, followed by four of the troopers of my own regiment--who
had been taken in attempting to rescue me, and whom I had since found
in Tournay--I set out for Paris, furnished with all the necessary
passports. The poor fellows who accompanied me were delighted to find
that the Prince had agreed to liberate them without exchange; and I
need hardly say, that although I doubted not that difficulties and
annoyances were still before me, my heart, too, beat more lightly than
it had done for many a day. Thus we lost no time on the road; and as
fast as our beasts would carry us, made our way to Paris. It was after
nightfall when we arrived, but without pause or hesitation I proceeded
direct to the palace, and giving my name and quality to the
attendants, I begged them to inform his Majesty and the Cardinal that
I had intelligence of the utmost importance to communicate. The
Cardinal, one of the pages informed me, had set out for the Spanish
frontier some days before; but my message having been sent through all
the proper channels to the King, I received, in reply, an order to
present myself the next morning an hour before grand mass.
This was a disappointment; for I had fully calculated upon the news
which I bore procuring me an immediate reception; but kings are so
much accustomed to hear that their subjects have intelligence of
importance to communicate, and to find that it refers to some petty
interest or some private suit, that his Majesty fully believed my
tidings to refer to my own affairs. The next morning I was at the
Tuilleries at the exact moment; but, much to my annoyance and disgust,
I was kept in an antechamber till the bells for mass sounded all over
the town, and remained there alone till the service of the church was
over. More than a quarter of an hour passed, after I had learned that
mass was done, seeing from the windows the people trotting home
through the dirty streets, ere an attendant summoned me to the
presence of the King. I was too much accustomed to various scenes, and
had too frequently looked a sterner monarch in the face, to feel any
agitation upon approaching any king upon earth; but in the interview
that was about to take place, dearer interests than life itself were
concerned; and when I thought of Laura, my heart certainly beat with a
quicker pulse as I moved towards the royal presence.
After passing through several other apartments, the door of a cabinet
was thrown open by the page, and immediately after I found myself
before the young king, and in the midst of a circle which clearly
showed me that my application for an audience had been supposed to
refer to my personal concerns. On the King's right hand stood Monsieur
de Turenne, and on his left the secretary, Le Tellier. The Queen-mother
also was present, together with several ladies, and one or two nuns,
whose garb was certainly more harmonious with the cloister than the
court; but on the Monarch's left appeared Father Ferdinand, the Count
de Loris, and the ancient friend of both my father and myself, the
good old Earl of Norwich. One of Monsieur de Villardin's first cousins
was there also, and his presence did not seem to augur well for my
suit. A few of the officers of the Court made up the group, and as I
ran my eye over it in advancing, I was glad to find that the majority
of those present were certainly inclined to support my pretensions. As
the feelings of the King himself, however, were of far greater
importance, I tried to gather from his countenance what was passing in
his heart; and, accustomed as I had been from my early years to scan
the faces of my fellow-men, I saw enough to give me some confidence.
His brow was strongly contracted, it is true; and he fixed his eye
upon me, as I entered, with an air of stern majesty which spoke
anything but favour. At the same time, however, there was the least
possible inclination towards a smile lurking about the corner of his
mouth; and with this key to the rest, as I knew that I had done
nothing to deserve severity, I judged that the stern frown upon his
brow was too bitter to be entirely natural.
I advanced and kissed the hand he held out to me, and then drew a step
back while he said, "Monsieur le Baron, you have desired an audience;
and we are, in some degree, prepared for the business you have to
speak of. Explain yourself, therefore, and doubt not that we shall do
you justice."
I again advanced; and, well knowing that to forget the communication
of the Prince de Condé, even for a moment, in my own hopes and fears,
would be a subject of deep offence to the King, as well as the very
worst policy in my own affairs, I bent my knee, and at once tendered
his Highness's letter, saying, "Having had the good fortune, sire, to
be wounded and taken prisoner in your----"
"The good fortune, sir!" exclaimed the King. "Do you call being
wounded and imprisoned good fortune?"
"It certainly is so, sire," I answered, "when it is in the service of
a prince who rewards all his servants far more than they deserve, and
compensates, tenfold, everything that is suffered in his cause."
The King smiled, and bade me go on.--"Having, then, the good fortune,
sire," I continued, "to be wounded and taken prisoner in your
Majesty's service, I fell into the power of his Highness the Prince de
Condé, who, on setting me at liberty, charged me to deliver into your
royal hand this letter, begging that you would be graciously pleased
to make what use of it you, in your wisdom, shall think fit, to remove
all difficulties from your gracious purpose of restoring peace to
Europe."
The Queen-mother half rose from her chair, and Le Tellier took a step
forward to receive, according to custom, the paper which I tendered to
the King; but Louis took it himself at once, and opening the letter,
which was not sealed, read the contents eagerly. "Indeed!" he cried,
when he had concluded. "Indeed! Is he so generous? Then we must not
suffer him to out-do us in generosity! Monsieur de Juvigny, the
bringing us that letter from our noble cousin adds weight to your
other services. Read, madam," he added, giving the paper to the
Queen-mother; "read, and after having settled this other affair, we
will take your Majesty's counsel as to what is to be done."
Anne of Austria read the letter attentively; and as the conclusion of
a final peace with Spain was now her first desire, I could see her
countenance beam with satisfaction as she saw that the only obstacle
to the accomplishment of that wish was removed by the voluntary act of
the Prince de Condé. When she had done, she gave the letter to the
secretary, and at the same time bent a gracious smile upon me,
saying, "You have indeed brought us news, young gentleman, well worthy
of honour and reward!"
The King himself immediately proceeded, again assuming the somewhat
stern air with which he had at first received me. "Monsieur le Baron
de Juvigny," he said, "you have at different times highly
distinguished yourself in our service; and Monsieur de Turenne here
present gives the most favourable report of your military skill and
qualities. All services rendered to ourselves we are certainly willing
to recompense even more liberally than bare justice might require; but
we understand that you aim at the hand of the first heiress in
France--a match for a prince--an alliance which we should not scruple
to seek for a member of our own family. This is estimating your claims
somewhat too highly."
"Sire!" I replied, "it is not upon any small services I may have
rendered to your Majesty, nor upon my long and undeviating attachment
to the royal cause, before genius and wisdom had swept away the
difficulties that surrounded it, nor upon some sufferings which I have
endured in the course of my career, that I found my claim to the hand
of Mademoiselle de Villardin. I found it upon her father's promise and
her own; I found it upon her father's will, and upon his express
application to your Majesty; and, more than all, I found it upon the
deep attachment that exists between us. Both her guardians, one of
whom is her nearest relative, consent to our union; and, indeed, they
are bound to do so by the will of her father."
"But here, sir," said the King, "is her father's next of kin, who
positively objects to her marriage with one, whose birth, for aught we
know, may be very inferior."
"I appeal to that English nobleman, sire," I replied, pointing to the
Earl of Norwich, "who has known me from my birth, and who will answer
for it, that the blood of my father and my mother was as pure as any
in the realm of France, however poor we all might have become by the
changes of this uncertain world."
"Ay, there is the fact!" answered Louis. "Ought I to bestow the hand
of this great heiress upon one who may have much merit and even noble
blood, but who sought these shores an absolute adventurer?"
The colour mounted into my face; and although I had hitherto been as
cautious as possible, some of my ancient abruptness broke forth, and I
replied, "I have known princes begin their career as much adventurers
as I was----!" From the King's eye I saw that all was lost if I did
not mend my speech, and I added:--"I have seen princes begin their
career as much adventurers as I was, who were destined to become the
greatest monarchs on the earth."
The cloud was done away instantly, and a smile succeeded upon the
countenance of the young King, while Monsieur de Turenne, who had bit
his lip nearly through at the first part of my reply, drew a long
breath, as if relieved by its conclusion.
"We do not doubt your merit, sir," answered his Majesty; "and as far
as we ourselves are concerned, can, of course, have no objection to
your union to this young lady, not designing her for any one else. But
the vast inequality of your fortunes, and the opposition of her
father's nearest kinsman----"
"Which I beg most strenuously to urge," cried the cousin.
"Do not interrupt me, sir," said the King, sternly. "These two
circumstances offer invincible obstacles to your immediate marriage,
unless you can show some motive for my disregarding the objection of
this gentleman, and for believing that you are influenced by no
interested motive whatever, in the attachment you declare yourself to
feel towards this young lady."
I paused, in order to be sure that the King had completely finished;
but ere I could reply myself, Father Ferdinand advanced a little, and
addressed the King.--"I believe, sire," he said, "that the first and
strongest objection is, that a gentleman calling himself the nearest
male relative of the late Duke de Villardin refuses his consent to the
marriage of Monsieur de Juvigny with our ward Laura. That objection I
can remove, by telling this gentleman that he is not the nearest male
relative of the late Duke."
"Who, then, is?" demanded the other, fiercely.
"I am!" answered the priest, gazing sternly upon him. "I am Ferdinand
de Villardin, the elder brother of the late Duke--he who, more than
forty years ago, as you may have heard, young Sir, abjured the
world--resigned his possessions and his rank--and, spreading abroad his
own death, for twenty years buried himself in an Italian cloister. Of
these facts, sire," he added, turning to the King, "I have already
given you satisfactory proof; and I now declare, that the full consent
of her father's nearest of kin is given to Laura de Villardin's union
with him who was more than a son to her late parent."
"And in regard to my attachment to her being disinterested, sire," I
added, "take from her all her possessions, and give me but herself--I
ask no more."
"You think that it is impossible such a thing should happen, Monsieur
de Juvigny," answered the monarch, gravely; "and, certainly, it is
impossible that we should strip our subjects of their property; but it
is not at all impossible that another claimant to this young lady's
lands may appear, and we tell you fairly that such is the case. Not
four days ago, it was clearly proved to us that Mademoiselle de
Villardin has no claim whatever to one acre of her father's lands.
What say you now?"
"They come not to me, my son," said Father Ferdinand, seeing my eyes
turn toward* him. "My claim upon them has been null for years."
"What say you now?" repeated the King, gazing upon me with an
expectant smile.
"That most thankfully--as the greatest boon that your Majesty can
bestow," I answered, "as a reward for all my services, and as a tie of
gratitude towards you for ever--I claim the hand of Laura de
Villardin; and only thank Heaven, that no inequality of fortune can
now make any one believe I seek her from aught but love."
A smile of majestic satisfaction beamed upon the countenance of the
young monarch; but for several moments he continued to gaze upon me
without uttering a word; and, of course, the same silence was
preserved by every one in the presence. "You have stood every trial
well, Monsieur de Juvigny," said the King, at length. "You have obeyed
our commands at a moment when they were most difficult to obey. You
have proved that your loyalty as a lover is no less perfect than your
gallantly as a soldier; and all I shall regret, in signing your
marriage contract, is, that your bride will not bring you as noble a
fortune as you once expected. My consent to your marriage is fully
given; there is only the approbation of one other person to be asked.
Monsieur de. Loris, be good enough to open that door. What say you,
madam? Do you consent likewise?"
As he spoke, the King turned towards one of the nuns, who stood behind
the Queen's chair, covered with the Ursuline veil. At the same moment,
Monsieur de Loris opened a door which communicated with the great
audience hall, and two more persons were instantly added to our party.
They were Laura de Villardin, and, hand in hand, my little page
Clement de la Marke, dressed in all the splendour of a high noble of
those days, and entering with a step that seemed familiar with courtly
halls.
Another sight, however, had rivetted all my attention, and, I may say,
had struck me dumb, for I actually stood in the midst of the circle
like a statue, without life or motion, as the nun, to whom the King
had spoken, raising her veil, exposed to my sight features deeply
engraved on the tablet of memory, and connected with many a sweet and
many a terrible remembrance in the past. Pale and worn, but still
beautiful, though more than twelve long years, loaded with grief, had
passed over her head--it was Madame de Villardin herself that gazed
upon me; and as I stood thunderstruck before her, she advanced and
embraced me as her son. Clement de la Marke clung to me too--the whole
truth flashed upon my mind; and, forgetful of all else but that Laura
was mine, and the dead alive again, I embraced them all in turn; while
Anne of Austria wiped away a tear, and Louis turned with a smile of
generous feeling to Turenne.
"Monsieur de Juvigny," said the King, as soon as my first joy was
somewhat moderated, "forgive me for my _coup de théatre_; but I wished
to have my full share in your joy and your surprise. Though your fair
bride has lost the rich lauds of Villardin and Dumont, which go, of
course, to my young Lord Duke here, yet she is still the heiress of
Vermont and De Loris; and her soft hand is worth a lordship in itself.
Every detail has been already given to me; and as there are some
painful points in the history of every family, these good lords here
present must even smother their curiosity as best they may; for, by my
command, the many explanations which you may require will be afforded
to you by your dear friends in private. You had better now retire to
the hotel de Villardin; and hereafter you will find, that, as by your
high qualities you have won yourself a beautiful bride, your services
have not been rendered to an ungrateful master."
CHAPTER XLIII.
Before I could well collect my senses, I was seated beside Laura de
Villardin in the carriage of the good old Count de Loris, with her
young brother Clement looking playfully up in my face, which certainly
must have expressed as much happiness as man could feel. On the other
side appeared Madame de Villardin, with her uncle and her
brother-in-law; and for a time a tumult of joyful feelings engrossed
me entirely, as I looked round upon so many that I loved and esteemed,
and found them all engaged in promoting my own dearest wishes. Another
feeling, however, came to temper and to sadden; and I perceived that
it was strong also in the bosom of every one, as, gazing upon one
another, each saw a number of beloved objects, but each felt that
there was one wanting who could never return.
Strange to say, where there was so much to be asked, and so much to be
told, our drive passed absolutely in silence; and Madame de Villardin,
when she once more entered the dwelling in which she had spent the
days of her young pride and gaiety, drew down her veil and wept. At
the foot of the staircase we passed Jacques Marlot, who bowed low and
reverently; and when we reached the saloon, Madame de Villardin again
embraced me, saying, "God's blessing be upon you, my son, for all that
you have done for me and mine. I will now leave you for a time, and
our reverend brother here will give you all the details of many things
that I have not spirits either to tell you myself or to hear told by
another. Come with me, Laura, my beloved child; and you, Clement,
betake you to your book; for the tale that your uncle is about to tell
had better, in your case, be reserved for after years."
I could well have let my curiosity sleep till I had enjoyed the
society of my dear Laura for some time longer; but Madame de Villardin
seemed to think that the information I was to receive had better be
given at once, and, of course, I did not oppose her.
Left alone with Father Ferdinand and Monsieur de Loris, the good
priest passed over his own history without explanation, and took up
his story at the period when the bridge had given way beneath Monsieur
and Madame de Villardin; and he gave me all the minute particulars
of events, which I can here state but generally.
It had, luckily, so happened that a large mass of the woodwork had
fallen at once beneath Madame de Villardin, and thus both broke her
fall into the stream, and supported her as a sort of raft after she
reached the water. She had called loudly for assistance; but, hurried
rapidly round the point of land just below the bridge, her voice had
not reached me as I swam, till after I had dragged out Monsieur de
Villardin. The single cry which I did hear had, however, caught the
ears of Jacques Marlot, who was at that moment returning from the farm
of the good Ursulines; and, running down to the shore, which was there
less steep, he easily dragged Madame de Villardin, and the wood-work
to which she was still clinging, to land. The house which he inhabited
was close at hand, and thither he himself carried the lady, without
waiting for other assistance. Madame de Villardin was quite sensible
of everything around her when she arrived at his dwelling; but she had
become deeply impressed with the idea that Monsieur de Villardin
intended to destroy her and the child she carried in her bosom, and,
acknowledging this apprehension in the terror of the moment, she
besought Jacques Marlot and his wife to conceal her from pursuit. He
on his part having been well accustomed, as libel-printer-general to
the Fronde, to concealments of all kinds, instantly locked the door,
in which state I afterwards found it, and took those measures which
effectually prevented us from discovering the existence of Madame de
Villardin, making his wife feign herself ill, to exclude all visiters
from the house. Father Ferdinand, however, in whom Madame de Villardin
had the fullest confidence, was made acquainted with the facts, under
the strictest promise of secrecy; and, finding that the unhappy lady
could never again look upon her husband without terror, he it was that
advised her to seek a permanent resting-place in the Ursuline
convent, of which she had been so munificent a benefactor.
There can be little doubt, however, that one more person became
accidentally acquainted with the fate of Madame de Villardin; but she
kept the secret far more nobly than might have been anticipated. That
person was Suzette, who, after being dismissed from Dumont, lodged at
St. Estienne, in the house of the very woman who attended Madame de
Villardin in the premature birth of her son. The woman had been chosen
from that village as a place in which Madame de Villardin never had
been, and her name and station were carefully concealed from her; but
still the whole arrangements had excited her surprise, and from the
hints which Suzette had twice let fall in my presence, I could not
doubt that she had gained sufficient information from her hostess, to
feel sure of the existence of her former mistress. Our long absence
from Dumont had given every opportunity of concluding all the
subsequent arrangements without a chance of discovery. Madame de
Villardin broke the last tie by leaving her child in the hands of
Jacques Marlot at Juvigny, and retired from the world. The proximity
of the convent, however, gave her frequent opportunities of seeing
both her children without being known to them, and she gradually
became quite reconciled to her situation. The great difficulty was in
regard to the education of little Clement; but that was removed by my
offer to take him as my page. The knowledge that he was near his
father--and still more the tidings which she soon received that her
husband was displaying towards his unknown child all the fondness of a
parent--acted as balm to the wounded heart of Madame de Villardin; but
still she could not banish the idea that, if the Duke ever became
acquainted with the child's birth, he would seek its destruction: and
nothing that Father Ferdinand could say, to show her his brother's
deep grief and repentance for what had already occurred, served to
relieve her mind in this respect. Nor, indeed, could one wonder that
such were her feelings, after all the terrible proofs she had received
of how far her husband's unjust suspicions might carry him. All that
Father Ferdinand could obtain from her, was a permission to reveal to
the Duke the facts, if ever he should see him on his death-bed; but
her apprehensions still made her require that the tidings should not
be given till there was no remaining chance of recovery.
Such is a general outline of the explanations given to me by Father
Ferdinand in regard to the preservation of Madame de Villardin; but I
was still anxious to hear more, and I asked him if Laura herself had
been aware of her mother's existence.
"Certainly not," replied he; "she could not even have a suspicion of
it till after that unhappy business of the Count de Laval; and here,
my son," he added, "my own conduct requires some explanation. I had
long seen your growing attachment to our dear Laura, and had spoken to
Madame de Villardin upon the subject, consulting her as to the
necessity of informing my brother of the evident result which would
take place. From what we both knew of the natural generosity of his
heart, we felt sure that he would not object to an union, which, from
our own regard towards you, we both desired; and it was therefore
determined to let things take their course. When I found from little
Clement the state of deep despondency into which you had fallen, now
two years ago, and the rash acts to which that despondency led you, I
began to suspect that you had become aware of your own feelings
towards my niece, and looked upon them as hopeless. I therefore
determined to give you some hope and encouragement, especially as I
knew that Laura was not destined to become that wealthy heiress which
you might suppose.
"Suddenly, however, my brother told me of his engagements with the
Count; and well aware of his rigid adherence to his word, I began to
fear that your passion was without hope indeed. After you were gone
from the château, and the Count had arrived, poor Laura confided to me
her misery; and told me that she would rather at once take the veil
than wed another than yourself. As I knew her father would not himself
even display a thought of drawing back from his promise, I advised her
to see the Count himself, and to tell him the true state of her
feelings; and then--as I had reason to believe that the Count's
passion was more for the heiress than the woman--I told Laura, that a
great probability existed of her father's estates passing to another;
and though I desired her to ask no farther, I believe that, from the
terms in which I spoke, some suspicion of the truth crossed her mind.
I bade her, as a last resource, give a hint of such a result to the
Count himself, if her other representations did not move him; and then
to refer him to me. She did not rest satisfied with the first,
however; but after having told him plainly that she could not love
him, as she loved another, she used her last resource also; although
she acknowledges that he seemed much moved by her first
representation. I am sorry that she did so, for now it is not very
possible to tell by what motives the Count was actuated; and I would
fain have given him an opportunity of doing honour to his own heart.
However, he spoke with me afterwards; and, knowing him to be a man
upon whose promised secrecy I could fully rely, I told him boldly that
there was not only a chance, but a certainty--as far as earthly things
ever can be certain--of the estates of Monsieur de Villardin passing
away from Laura. He asked an explanation; and, seeing that it might
save our dear girl from misery, I told him that, if I could obtain
permission, I would satisfy him of the fact. He agreed to wait four
days for my communication, promising that, if I proved my statement,
he would voluntarily withdraw his claim. In consequence of this
arrangement, T immediately wrote to Madame de Villardin; and showing
her that her child's happiness was at stake, demanded her leave to
make the Count acquainted with so much of her story as was necessary
to prove to him that Laura would never possess the estates which he
expected to receive with her. She immediately consented, and the
result you know. As a matter of course, all the facts of Madame de
Villardin's history were communicated by myself and Monsieur de Loris
to the King some time ago; and as her presence was necessary to
establish the rights of her son to his father's honours and estates,
his Majesty gave the necessary commands for removing all impediments
which conventual rules might oppose to her visiting the Court. Both
the young King himself and his mother took the greatest interest in
the fate of all concerned; and as, by your letters, we received
intelligence of your situation, and your restoration to health, his
Majesty declared that as soon as your exchange could be effected, he
would only subject you to one more trial ere he gave you your fair
bride. All opposition on the part of his Eminence of Mazarine was
withdrawn, as soon as he found that two-thirds of Laura's estates
were diverted to her brother; and yesterday morning, early, a summons
to attend the King and Queen gave us also the joyful news of your
return. The parts that we were all to play were laid down by the King
himself; and our poor cousin, who had come up some months ago to claim
the guardianship of the young heiress, was brought in also, still in
perfect ignorance of all the facts. I now need tell you no more; and
if a light step I heard but now be a true signal, I think you will
find some one in that next boudoir, who, though scarcely more happy to
see you than myself, is a fitter companion for a young soldier than an
old priest can be."
As I, too, heard Laura's step, I asked no more questions at that time;
but, joining her that I loved, spent an hour or two of as
happiness as ever fell to the share of mortal man. But a short space
now intervened ere we were united for ever; and although all that we
had gone through rendered me constantly apprehensive of some new
disappointment until Laura was at length clasped to my heart, my own
beloved wife, yet, since our fate has been placed beyond all farther
doubt, I am inclined to believe that the dangers, and the
difficulties, and even the sorrows, of our early years, contribute
greatly to our present happiness.
We have a store of thoughts and remembrances in the past, which forms
for us a world separated from the rest of the world: many things
endured for the sake of each other, mingle, I may say, a feeling of
mutual gratitude with mutual affection: the deep impression of
extraordinary events keeps the first fresh feelings of the passion
that was born amongst them in all its original fire, although years
have passed since our fate was united. Even t s memory of the beloved
dead forms an tie between our hearts which can never be
weakened; and when I look into my Laura's eyes, I see the same love
beaming in them as my wife, which lighted them in infancy and
girlhood, only augmented with a thousand sweeter and brighter beams,
by every stage through which our affection has passed.
My tale is now concluded up to this hour; and so contented am I with
my present state, that I trust to have nothing more which could prove
of interest to any one to add to these pages, till time lays me in the
grave. Almost all whom I have mentioned are still living; and though
Madame de Villardin has again sought the quiet seclusion of the
cloister, we frequently enjoy her society as far as her situation will
permit. Father Ferdinand has often promised to give me a sketch of his
early history; but it would seem that there are in it points so
painful, as even to have defied the softening power of time, and to
remain too acute to bear recapitulation. Clement de Villardin has
become the gallant soldier, whose name is known to every one both in
England and France; and I have laid by the sword which so early came
into my hands, hoping that fate has exhausted her store, and that no
more changes, either of station or of character, may yet be reserved
for JOHN MARSTON HALL.
THE END.
T. C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covet-garden.
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