CHAPTER XXX.
It is a sad thing for a calm, retired student, to sit down and depict the fierce and terrible passions which sometimes animate his fellow-beings; and it is scarcely possible to tell how worn and shaken his whole frame feels, after hurrying through some scene of angry violence and wild commotion. He meets, indeed, with compensations in pursuing his task. There may be a high and indescribable pleasure in portraying the better qualities of human nature in all their grand and beautiful traits; in describing sweet scenes of nature, and in striving to find latent associations between the various aspects of the material world and the mind, the feelings, or the fate of ourselves and our fellow-men. Nay, more, there may be some touch of satisfaction--part self-complacency, part gratified curiosity--in tracing the petty things of humanity mingling with the finer ones, the mighty and the mean counterbalancing each other within the same bosom, and in discovering that the noblest of recorded earthly beings is linked on to our little selves by some fond familiar fault or empty vanity. But at the same time, though not so wearing as to paint the struggle of mighty energies called forth on some great occasion, it is even more painful, perhaps, to sit and draw the same strong passions working by inferior means, and employing the low and treacherous slave, Cunning, instead of the bold bravo, Daring. To such a picture, however, we must now turn.
It was on the evening of the day, whose sanguinary commencement we have already noticed, that, placed calmly by a clear wood fire, with all the means of comfort, and even luxury around him, Ganay, the druggist, sat pondering over the past and the future. Neither he himself, nor Albert Maurice, had appeared at the execution of Imbercourt and Hugonet--the one careless of what else occurred, so that his bitter revenge was gratified--the other naturally abhorring scenes of blood. The druggist, however--though where it was necessary he neither wanted courage to undertake, nor hardihood to execute the most daring actions--was ever well pleased to let more careless fools perform the perilous parts of an enterprise, employing the time, which would have been thus filled up by action, in thinking over the best means of reaping his own peculiar harvest from the seed sown by others. He now revolved every circumstance of his present situation, and scanned the future--that dim and uncertain prospect--with steady eyes, determined to force his way onward, through its mists and obstacles, without fear and without remorse.
The predominant sensation in his bosom, however, was gratification at the consummation of his long sought revenge. The man whom he most hated on earth, who had offered him a personal indignity, and who had refused pardon to his son, he had sent to join the unhappy magistrates who had condemned that base and flagitious boy; and when he contemplated the difficulties he had surmounted to bring about that act of vengeance, the schemes he had formed and perfected, the events which he had turned from their natural course, by his sole art, to accomplish his purpose, the men he had used as instruments, and the passions he had bent to his designs--when he contemplated, I say, the whole course of his triumphant machinations, there rose up in his bosom that pride of successful villany, which is so often the ultimate means of its own punishment by the daring confidence which it inspires.
The maxim of Rochefoucault is applicable to men as well as women. Where was there ever the man who paused at one evil act? Ganay had previously determined to limit all his efforts to the death of the eschevins and of Imbercourt; but his very success in that endeavour had entailed the necessity, and furnished the encouragement, to new and, if possible, less justifiable acts. Nevertheless, it must not be thought that there was no such thing as a thrill of remorse ever entered his bosom. There probably never yet was a man, however he might brave it to the world, who, with a bosom loaded with crimes, did not feel remorse when solitary thought left him a prey to memory. Conscience is an Antæus, that, though often cast to the earth by the Herculean passions of man's heart, rises ever again re-invigorated by its fall; and he must be strong, indeed, who can strangle it altogether.
Remorse mingled its bitter drop even with the cup of Ganay's triumph; and while he gazed upon the crackling embers, the joy of his successes faded away; a feeling of age, and solitude, and crime, crept over his heart; and the memories of other years--the hopes and dreams of boyhood and innocence, rose up, and painfully contrasted themselves with the mighty disappointment of successful vice. Through life he had found many means of stifling such murmurs of the heart, in the excitement of new schemes and the intricacies of tortuous policy; but now he had learned another way of lulling the mind together with the body; and, rising with his usual calm and quiet pace, he approached a cupboard, poured a small silver cup half full of ardent spirits, and then swallowed in its contents a certain portion of that narcotic which he had found so soothing under the first anguish of his son's death. Then carefully replacing the cup and the vial, he again took his seat before the fire, and listened, as if waiting for some visitor.
He was not kept long in expectation; for, in a very few minutes after, the door was opened by the boy, and Maillotin du Bac entered without farther announcement. The cheek of the Prevot was flushed with wine, and his lip curled with triumph; but he had by this time, learned the influence of Ganay in the affairs of Ghent too completely to treat him with aught but the most profound deference. After some formality, he took the seat that Ganay offered; and hypocras and wine having been brought in, with spices and comfits, he helped himself largely, and then, at the request of the druggist, recapitulated the events connected with the execution of the morning, which we need not repeat.
"So now," said the Prevot, in conclusion, speaking of the unhappy Imbercourt, "he is dead, and that score is cleared. Master Ganay, I give you joy, with all my heart! Your son's death is nobly avenged, and you can sleep in peace. Now, give me joy in return."
"I do! I do! Sir Prevot," replied Ganay, grasping the hand the other held out to him in his thin fingers: "I do! I do, with all my heart!"
"But stay! stay!" cried Maillotin du Bac; "you do not yet know for what. Hark ye, Master Ganay, revenge is sweet to every honourable man. Did you ever hear tell of the Vert Gallant of Hannut? Did you ever hear how he overpowered me by numbers, and disgraced me as a man and a knight? He delivered yon proud Albert Maurice, too, when he was a less worm than he is now. Well, he it was, who, as I tell you, encountered the good Duke of Gueldres, and would have slain him, had not his own foot slipped, or some one dashed him down, and the duke was rescued."
"Well, well, what of him?" cried the druggist; "what has befallen him?"
"Why, he is safe in the prison of the town-house," replied the Prevot, "and shall die after seven days' torture, if I live to the end of them. His fellows, somehow, cut their way through, and got out of the press, every one of them; but he himself was trodden down as he lay, by the people, and was taken up by the burgher guard, half dead, after the crowd dispersed. We shall give him two or three days to recover. There is no use of killing him like a rat caught in a trap, you know, and just knocking his head against the stones, without letting him know why or wherefore. No, no! we must give him time to recover his strength and his senses, or he will die upon the first wheel. But there is more--there is more to be told still," continued the Prevot, rather heated by the wine, and seeing that the other was about to reply. "Who, think you, this famous long-concealed Vert Gallant proves to be at last? Who but the nephew of that old sorcerer, the Lord of Hannut? and, by the holy cross! if ever I live to see quiet times again, that vile, heathenish wizard shall roast in the market-place of Brussels, if there be such a thing as law and religion in the land. I knew it all the time! Bless you, Master Ganay, I saw through it all, from the time I was at the castle. I told the Lord of Imbercourt that his nephew was the brigand leader; you may ask him if I did not--though, by the way, he won't answer, for he is dead--but I told him, nevertheless, that I was sure it was the old man's nephew.--Master Ganay, here's to you!"
Ganay had turned somewhat pale as the other spoke: but he showed no farther sign of discomposure; and replied immediately: "His nephew! You must mistake. He has no nephew. He once had a son!" he added, in a voice, the tremulous tone of which the Prevot, whose faculties had not been rendered more pellucid by the wine he had drunk, attributed to the painful remembrance of his own loss--"he once had a son! But the boy died in infancy."
"Nay," replied Maillotin du Bac, "of that I know nothing. All I know is that this youth is his nephew--this Sir Hugh de Mortmar."
"But I tell thee, good friend, it cannot be," rejoined the druggist, somewhat sharply. "No nephew has he. Surely I should know."
"Well, well, 'tis all the same," cried the Prevot. "If not his nephew, he passes as such; and die he shall, after the torture has racked his every limb. Ay, Master Ganay, he shall die," he added, clasping his strong and sinewy hand tight, as if holding some substance which he was determined to let no power on earth wring from his grasp; "he shall die, although your precious President were to give his right hand to save him; and if, out of what he calls his fine feelings, he attempt to repay the good turn the Vert Gallant did him at Hannut, and free him from prison in return, he may chance to stumble at that step himself, and die along with him. I owe him something, too, which I have not forgot. So let him look to it."
Ganay mused for several minutes over the words of his companion, who spoke evidently under the excitement both of passion and drink. The wine, however, had not very deeply affected his discretion; and the moment after, remembering the close connexion between the druggist and Albert Maurice, the Prevot added, "Not that I mean any harm to your friend, Master Ganay, only let him not meddle with my prisoner, that is all. I am sure I have refrained from Seeking any vengeance against him himself, simply because he is your friend; and will not, if he keep his hands from interfering with my affairs."
Still Ganay was silent, and remained musing, with his eyes bent upon the fire, till he perceived that Maillotin du Bac, somewhat discomposed by his companion's taciturnity, and imagining that he had made a blunder in regard to Albert Maurice, was again about to apply to the bowl of spiced wines, as the best means of restoring his confidence and composure. At that moment the druggist, stretching out his hand, caught him gently by the arm, saying, "Stay, stay, Master Prevot, we have both had enough of that for the present; and as we may have many things to speak of which require cool heads, let us refrain till all is settled, and then drink our fill."
"Well, well, 'tis the same to me," rejoined the Prevot, relinquishing the bowl, and taking his seat once again. "What would you say, Master Ganay? Command me; for you know that we are linked together by the same interests, and therefore are not likely to differ."
"Well, then, listen for a moment, good Sir Maillotin, while I just tell you a few things concerning this Lord of Hannut, which, though they belong to the days past, do not the less bear upon the days present."
The druggist then paused, and again mused for a moment in deep thought, ere he proceeded; and in his countenance there was that air of deep calculating thought, which may often be seen in the face of a skilful chess player, when pausing, with suspended finger, over some critical move. At length he went on: "We must both serve each other, Sir Maillotin; and if you will aid me in what I propose, I will help you to what you wish, though you dare not even hope for it."
"Speak, speak! Master Ganay," replied the Prevot; "and fear not that I will refuse to serve you willingly and well. We have drawn vastly well together yet; and there is no danger of our not doing so to the end."
Still however, the druggist hesitated for some minutes; for though he could assume a false frankness as well as any one, he was not, by nature, at all communicative, and what he had resolved, upon long deliberation, to propose to the Prevot, required a more full confidence than he could place in any one without pain. "I will tell you a story," he said at length, "I will tell you a story, good Maillotin du Bac. Listen then. 'Tis just two-and-thirty years ago since I first heard much of this Lord of Hannut, who was then a bright, brave young cavalier, whose life was not to be counted on for two hours together, so much was his courage better than his prudence. He had, as well you know he still has ample wealth and large possessions, while his cousin, the present Duke of Gueldres, whose father was then living, was so munificent a prince, as often to be pinched for a hundred florins. Report said that the young duke, who was then heir to Hannut, piously wished that his gallant cousin might find the road to heaven speedily. But, as fate would have it, the Lord of Hannut one day unexpectedly married, and within a year, his fair lady made him the father of a son, of which she was delivered at their pleasure-house of Lindenmar. All this went mightily against the stomach of the good young Lord of Gueldres, whose father, then living, kept him on scanty means; when, by another strange turn of fate, the pleasure-house of Lindenmar was burnt to the ground, and the infant son of the young Lord of Hannut perished in the flames. As fortune would have it, a detachment of Duke Philip's army was marching over the hill, within sight at the time, and with it was my good Lord of Gueldres, together with Thibalt of Neufchatel, and a number of other knights and nobles. As soon as the fire was discovered, they all galloped down to put out the flames; and my Lord of Gueldres might have passed for as zealous a friend as the rest, had he not been fool enough to cry out, as if in jest, to let the whole place burn, so that he had the lands of Hannut."
"He had better have kept that to himself," interrupted the Prevot, shaking his head sagaciously. "No man has a worse enemy than his own tongue. The good duke should have learned that it is better never to let people know one's wishes, for they are never long in discovering one's designs afterwards."
"He has marred all his good fortune through life," replied Ganay, "by those rough sayings of his; for though he says no more than other men think, yet he makes all men that hear him his enemies, by exposing their feelings while confessing his own."
"However," continued the druggist, after this sage and liberal observation, "down he came with the rest, of course, to make them think what he said was a mere joke, and plunged into the flames with the foremost. All was confusion, and no one knew what the other was doing. The Lord of Hannut himself was stunned by the fall of a beam upon his head, and was with difficulty dragged out by his servants. Thibalt of Neufchatel, his great friend and brother in arms, carried out the lady unhurt, through the midst of the flames; but the heir of Hannut perished, and for some hours, no one could tell what had become of Adolphus of Gueldres."
"Why you describe it all as well as if you had been there yourself," said Maillotin du Bac.
"I was there," replied the druggist, drily; "but you shall hear. What put it into Thibalt of Neufchatel's head, I know not; but, after saving the lady, he rushed back again into the house, and finding me in the further wing, he dragged me out by the hair of the head, vowing that I had kindled the fire. Now, you must know that I was then a humble friend and domestic surgeon to the young Duke of Gueldres; and when they searched my person, they found a number of letters, which they thought of very doubtful meaning, and a few drugs, the use of which their ignorance could not comprehend, and which they wanted much to prove were materials for secretly lighting a flame. The good duke, too, was not present; and, under all these circumstances, they had nearly killed me on the spot. I took it all silently, for a man can but die once in this world, and very little does it matter when that once may fall. All I said was, to call my young lord, for that he would clear me; and they agreed, at length, to spare me till the duke, that is at present, could be found. He was not heard of, however, till the next day, when it was discovered that he had retired to a neighbouring village, much scorched by the flames. He instantly despatched a letter to the Lord of Neufchatel, informing him that he himself had sent me to inquire after the health of his fair cousins, the Lord and Lady of Hannut, which was the cause that I had not been seen accompanying him with the rest of the army. The servants of the household of Lindenmar vouched for my coming the evening before on that errand, and gave a good report of my proceedings. The Lord of Hannut himself joined to exculpate me; and I easily found means to convince Thibalt of Neufchatel that he had grossly ill-treated me, and foully aspersed my character. Had he continued to treat me ill, I might have devised a way to satisfy myself; but, on the contrary, as soon as he was convinced of my innocence, nothing would serve him to testify his sorrow for what had occurred, and to compensate the injury he had inflicted. He kept his eye upon me through life, and, I may well say, has been the origin of all my fortunes. The proofs he gathered together of the charge against me, and of my innocence, he has always kept in his own possession; and I have not chosen to press for their being given up to me, lest it should seem that I was afraid of anything therein contained. Do you understand me?"
"Quite well," replied Maillotin du Bac, drawing his clear hawk's eyes together, with a shrewd glance upon the druggist's face; "quite well. What more?"
"Why this," answered the druggist: "I love not be in the power of any man. While Adolphus of Gueldres was in prison, and likely to remain there--while Thibalt of Neufchatel was living, and likely to live--the matter did not much signify; but now that Adolphus of Gueldres is free, and that Thibalt of Neufchatel is dying of the wounds he received at Nancy, it might be as well that those papers were in my own possession. Thus, then, it must be managed, Sir Prevot: you must find some excuse to take possession of his house with your men-at-arms the moment the breath is out of his body; and while you are sealing up the effects, I may be looking for the papers."
"But what, suppose I keep them in my possession for you?" demanded Maillotin du Bac, with one of his shrewd looks.
"Why, then," replied the druggist, calmly, "I cannot aid you in overthrowing Albert Maurice, and in obtaining possession of his person and his wealth."
"I understand," said the Prevot; "we are agreed. But what surety have I that you will do so when you have the papers?"
"This," answered Ganay, without any expression of indignation at a doubt of his honesty, which he felt to be perfectly natural, but, at the same time, approaching closer to the Prevot, and speaking in a low, but clear and emphatic tone--"this, that Albert Maurice--by what means I know not--has discovered my secret, and must die."
"Good! good!" replied the Prevot; "'tis better than a bond! We are agreed, we are agreed, mine excellent good friend. But, hark ye, Ganay, there is one bad stone in the arch. This Thibalt of Neufchatel, this good Count Thibalt, is marvellously better to-day. It would seem that the death of Imbercourt and Hugonet had done him good; for, about the time of the axe falling, he began to mend."
Ganay, as was his habit when he heard any unpalatable tidings, replied nought, but fixed his eyes upon the fire, and mused. "He is an old man," said the druggist, at length, speaking in a low and quiet voice--"he is an old man, this good Count Thibalt."
"Ay, doubtless is he," replied Maillotin du Bac, who was one of those people who take a keen delight in discovering difficulties and objections, solely for the sake of giving pain and disappointment to those whom they were likely to thwart; "but he is a hale old man, and may live these twenty years, if he get over this bout."
"He must have had enough of life," continued Ganay, in the same meditative tone. "It is time he were asleep. Adolphus of Gueldres has visited his sick couch more than once. It is time he were asleep."
The Prevot was silent; and Ganay, after considering his hawklike features for a moment or two with an inquiring glance, added quietly, "Well, well, Sir Maillotin, we will see. These sudden gleams of convalescence often precede death in the badly wounded. I know these matters better than you do, my good friend; and I have no faith in this sudden and strange amendment. Let us keep ourselves in readiness, and wait the result. You will be prepared at a moment's notice," he added, in a more sharp and decided tone, throwing off at once the quiet conversational manner of his former speech; "perchance he may die to-morrow, perchance the next day; but be you on the watch, and ever ready to secure the house."
"I will! I will!" answered Maillotin du Bac; and then speaking to the druggist's purpose more than to his words, he added, "I will be ready to secure the house and all that, Master Ganay; but I can do no more in this business. To take men off except by the cord or the steel, when they have merited their fate, is out of my line of operations."
"Who required you to do so?" demanded the druggist, gravely. "No, no, Sir Prevot, men may die without your help or mine either. So, now to the bowl! We understand each other, and that is enough. Be you ready when I send to warn you that the good count is dead. If he live, you know, which is likely, vastly likely--if he live, why all the rest is in the moon. Sir Prevot, I carouse to your good rest this night; do me justice--do me justice in the bowl!"
Thus ended their more important conversation; and all that passed farther referred to the mysteries of the tankard, and need not be here inflicted on the reader. It may be necessary to observe, however, that the druggist did not suffer the Prevot Marechal to leave his house till he had imbibed a sufficient quantity of various kinds of intoxicating liquors to require the aid of two stout men to bear him home; and that Ganay himself was, at the same time, incapable of quitting the chair in which he sat.
It may be asked, was a man of such subtle schemes an habitual drunkard, then? Far from it, though he could drink as deep as any one, when some object might be gained by so doing: but he was one of those men whose limbs only became inebriated, if we may use such an expression, while their brain remains unclouded; and the debauch in which he indulged was one of calculation, not pleasure. He had soon seen that, in the case of the Prevot, the prudent guard which was usually placed upon his lips was half asleep at the post long before their conversation was over; and though he believed that he could trust to old habits of caution to keep his companion from any indiscreet babbling, either drunk or sober, yet he determined not to let him leave his dwelling till utterance itself was drowned in wine. Of himself he had no fear; and, leaning on his boy, he tottered to his bed in silence.