CHAPTER XI.
The moment Helen de la Tremblade had quitted the château, Madame de Chazeul entered the carriage which stood prepared for her in the court, and accompanied by what she considered a sufficient guard, set out upon her way towards the dwelling of her brother. Her thoughts, however, were not of the pleasantest kind. At first, they were all in confusion; but, through the turbid mass of her angry sensations, there came an impression, a consciousness, that she had too much given way to the violence of a disposition, originally irritable and passionate, which all her cunning and art had not been able to bring effectually under control. This perception grew stronger and more distinct as she became cooler; but, for a time, she attempted to justify to herself what she had done, on the score of policy. "If Rose d'Albret were to hear of this," she said, "we should have new difficulties, and all my well-laid schemes would be frustrated; so that it was necessary to get the girl out of the château as quickly as possible. She will never venture to go to her uncle's, surely! Oh no, she was ever timid and frightened; she will hide away in some corner till she finds a new lover."
This reasoning did not satisfy her, however. She saw there was danger in the course she had pursued. She asked herself, what was she to say to Walter de la Tremblade when he inquired after his niece, whom she had taken some two years before, as what was then called, Demoiselle de compagnie? Was she to tell him what had occurred. Was she to relate her own conduct? Was she even to acknowledge that her son had seduced the unhappy girl under her own roof, with opportunities afforded by her own negligence, and not the best example, by her own conduct? If such things came to his ears, what course would he pursue? Might he not blast all her projects; destroy, even by a word, all, the glorious fabric which she had been building up for her son's ambition? He was not one who could be cajoled and cheated; he was not one who could be overruled or thwarted. Art to art, and cunning to cunning, he was her match; and she felt it. No, the matter must be concealed from him entirely, at least till her schemes were all successful, and Rose d'Albret was the wife of Nicholas de Chazeul. Then, she thought, he might do his worst; the prize would be gained, the struggle accomplished, and his power at an end.
Next came the question how this concealment was to be secured. If Helen did not go to him at once--which the Marchioness little believed she would--might she not write the tale which she would be afraid to speak. That was not at all improbable. Nay, destitute as she had been driven forth, it seemed certain that want would compel her to do so immediately; and then the whole must be discovered.
As these thoughts presented themselves to her mind, she formed her plan with her usual decision; and, bidding one of her women order the coachman to stop, she called to the door of the vehicle, two of the mounted men, who accompanied the carriage, and in whom she thought she could rely, and directed them to return immediately to the château.
"Seek for the girl, Helen," she said, "you will soon find her; 'tis not a quarter of an hour since she went. You can take some people on foot with you, to hunt about in the neighbourhood. Carry her back home immediately; and tell Mathurine to lock her up in her own room and keep her upon bread and water till I return. I have been somewhat too severe with her, though she must undergo some punishment. Away, as hard as you can gallop, and mind you find her, or you shall repent it. Here, Theodore, speak with all the people, and tell them, on their lives, not to utter one word at the Château de Marzay of what has taken place this morning. I and Mademoiselle de la Tremblade will soon make it up again."
The man to whom she last spoke promised to obey, though, understanding his mistress well, he clearly saw that she had some other end in view than merely reconciling herself to her own conscience for her over severity, and the carriage rolled on once more upon its way.
About four hours after, it reached the Château de Marzay, having met with no farther impediments by the way than such as were presented by roads naturally rough and uneven, which had become one mass of mud and dirt from the united effects of a sudden thaw and long neglect. In the court-yard of the mansion she was received by her brother, the Count de Liancourt, who informed her, according to his version, of all that had taken place in the château since the arrival of De Montigni. He told her the truth, in fact, as he believed it; but nevertheless, he gave her a completely false view of the whole affair; for it is ever to be remarked and remembered that, of all the treacherous liars against whom we have to guard in our course through life, our own heart, with its whole host of subtleties and fallacies, its prejudices, its vanities, and its self-delusions, is the most dangerous. Men would rarely, if ever, be deceived if they did not aid most strenuously to deceive themselves, and what is more curious still, it often happens that when we are most busy in attempting to put a fraud upon others, we are most actively cheating ourselves. There is always a traitor in the council whenever we quit the straightforward course of truth and rectitude.
Monsieur de Liancourt assured his sister, as she alighted from her carriage, and walked up the staircase to the hall above, that the only difficulty was with De Montigni, and that Rose d'Albret had used her influence upon him to induce him to consent.
"Has she?" said the Marchioness, thoughtfully; "not very vigorously, I should fancy."
"Oh yes, indeed," replied Monsieur de Liancourt; "for I watched their parting from the cavalier, which was built at the time of the siege, where I could see them, but they could not see me. It was as formal as a court ceremony. He kissed her hand, and made her a low bow, and said something which I did not exactly hear, but the last words were, 'I will consider all you have said.'"
"So, then," said Madame de Chazeul, "Mademoiselle Rose hears reason at last! But what is it that has done this? she always seemed as cold as ice before, and barely willing."
"Oh! the fact is," replied the Count, "Rose was never without ambition. I do not pretend to say she is in love with Chazeul; but he took care to inform her of the high and splendid fate that would be hers as his wife, and that was quite enough."
"It may be so," answered the Marchioness; "ambition is at the bottom of every woman's heart; but yet if De Montigni were as handsome as when he went away, I should have fancied that love and folly might have had a hard struggle against ambition and good sense. I would not have suffered them to have any private conversation, if I had been here."
"It was the only way to get De Montigni to consent," rejoined Monsieur de Liancourt; "besides, Chazeul has no cause to fear the comparison. He is a man with knowledge of the world and of courts. The other is still a boy, with no knowledge of anything but books and philosophy."
"Not the man to win a woman, indeed;" said Madame de Chazeul, with a curl of the lip; "but we shall see."
As the last words were on her tongue, they entered the corridor where De Montigni and Chazeul were walking up and down with the old commander; and an amusing scene took place between the Marchioness and the rest of the party. She had made up her mind as to the part which she was to act towards her nephew; and the moment she saw him, she exclaimed, with a joyous air, and holding out her open arms towards him, "Ah, my dear Louis, welcome back to your native land! What a truant you have been! How like he is to poor Louise!" and she embraced him, apparently with all the tenderness of a mother.
The old commander growled a savage oath or two, and, when she turned to him, looked her full in the face, saying, "He is like Louise; and that is why I love him."
"Ah, Michael," said the Marchioness, "you always were a bear, and always will be one. It is lucky you do not bite as well as growl."
"I may bite some day, if I am provoked," answered the commander.
"Ha! ha! ha!" cried Madame de Chazeul, laughing as heartily as if her mind were free from all the weight of cunning schemes and violent passions. "You see, Louis, he is just the same as ever. We have not been able to tame him since you were gone. It is a sad, ferocious beast--a bear. And so you have come to grace the wedding?"
"I hope so, Madam," replied De Montigni, gravely; but his thoughts were busy with the question, of what should be his demeanour towards the artful woman who was now before him; and, while she said a few words to Chazeul, expressive of no particular affection towards him, the young Baron made up his mind, to seem won by her manner, and to attach himself as much as possible to her during the day, in order to keep her from attacking Rose d'Albret, who, he feared, might not be so well able to play her part against the Marchioness as himself.
Madame de Chazeul, however, was pertinacious too, and one of her first inquiries was for Mademoiselle d'Albret.
"I will send and call her," answered Monsieur de Liancourt; "let us go into the hall; perhaps she may be there."
They did not find her, however; and the servant he sent to summon her, soon returned with the tidings, that the young lady had gone to bed again with a bad headache.
"I will go and see her," said Madame de Chazeul. "Poor dear Rose, all the agitation of these preparations is too much for her;" and she moved towards the door leading to Mademoiselle d'Albret's apartments, though the old commander exclaimed, in a surly tone, "You had better let her alone! Your tongue, Jacqueline, never cured a headache, I am sure."
The Marchioness, however, was stopped by the entrance of another person with whom she had also to play her part; for just as she was quitting the hall father Walter appeared, and advanced towards her. Her face immediately assumed an air of friendly regard, and giving him her hand, she said, "Good morning, father, how fares it with you? Our dear Helen would have come with me, but she was somewhat indisposed. Nothing of consequence, however; and perhaps she will join us to-morrow, or at all events, on the day of the marriage." Then suddenly breaking off, in order to avoid any further inquiries, on that subject, she lowered her voice, and inquired, "How go things here, father? De Montigni is restive, I find. Are you sure of Rose?--quite sure, father? My brother, Anthony, continually blinds his own eyes; but you see more clearly."
"I think there can be no doubt," replied the priest, "not that I pretend to say that the lady loves your son; she regards the alliance but as a family arrangement conducive to her interests, and the only means of giving peace and quietness to the house. For these reasons she has urged De Montigni to sign the renunciation and the contract, and I think he will do it--nay, I feel certain he will. They would hurry on the affair before your arrival, though I thought it would have been better to wait. But from the course things have taken, no harm has been done; and, perhaps it may be as well now, when you see the lady, not to derange the impression which has been produced."
The Marchioness mused. "How comes it, good father," she asked, "that Chazeul has not made himself loved? I fear he has been playing the fool with other women; for he is not reputed to want success upon a lady's heart, when he is inclined to try. I must give him some lessons; do you think that any of his love affairs have come to this girl's ears? That should be prevented till the marriage takes place."
"By all means," said the priest, "but I know of none from which there is any danger."
"And I of but one," rejoined the Marchioness, "but I will take care to keep that from her. One may be justified in using a little violence for such an object."
"Assuredly," answered father Walter, "anything in short, but the spilling of blood."
"Oh, Heaven forbid!" cried the Marchioness, "I bear the woman no ill will for loving Chazeul; but if I were to have her carried off and shut closely up for a few days, there could be no harm in that."
"It were the best means," replied father Walter, "unless her family be sufficiently powerful to make dangerous resistance."
"There is no fear of that," answered Madame de Chazeul, with a quiet smile; "but I will go and see Mademoiselle d'Albret."
Thus saying she quitted the hall, while father Walter advanced towards the group of gentlemen at the other end, who had been conversing together calmly enough during his interview with the Marchioness. That lady, however, returned after a very brief absence, saying that Rose d'Albret was trying to sleep; and, put upon a wrong track as she was, both by her brother and the priest, she attached herself during the rest of the morning to De Montigni, endeavouring by every artful means, to possess herself of his whole views and intentions, and at the same time to convince him, that he was giving pain to Rose d'Albret by his hesitation in regard to the signature of the papers.
One of the reasons why the game of life is not unfrequently won by the simple and the honest against all the arts of the politic and the wily, is perhaps that, in this game, as in no other, the most skilful and calculating can never tell what cards may be in the hands of the adverse party. I say one of the reasons; for there are many, and amongst them is the belief, from which cunning people can never free themselves, that others are dealing with them in the same way that they would deal, if their relative situations were reversed.
Madame de Chazeul, however, had studied De Montigni's character from youth, and knew that he was generous and kindhearted. She, therefore, like father Walter, endeavoured to work upon him, in the first instance, through his affection for Rose d'Albret. She spoke of her gently and tenderly, called her "poor Rose," and represented the slight indisposition under which she was suffering, as entirely proceeding from some agitation and vexation she had undergone in the morning, affecting at the same time to be ignorant of the nature of that agitation, but leaving him to draw his own conclusions.
De Montigni, as the reader knows, had the secret in his own keeping, and internally mocked at all the policy which the Marchioness displayed; for there is nothing so contemptible as discovered cunning. He resolved, however, to turn back Madame de Chazeul's art upon herself, and found even a pleasure in foiling her with her own weapons.
"Well, my dear Madam," he answered, "I trust that, by this time to-morrow, Rose will have no farther cause for anxiety on my account."
"Indeed, how so?" asked the Marchioness.
"Because by that time," replied De Montigni, "all will be positively settled."
"And of course as Rose would wish," added the Marchioness,
"As far as I understand her wishes, it shall be so," said De Montigni; "but I do not desire, Madam, what I say to you to be repeated; and now will you tell me frankly, for I know you are well aware, what is the value of these benefices which my uncle offers me?"
"At least equal to the value of the estates," replied Madame de Chazeul: "more, indeed, if you take in the Abbey of Chizay in Poitou; but that I believe was promised to good Monsieur de la Tremblade--not exactly promised, perhaps; but I know he was led to expect it."
"No one shall break a promise for me," replied De Montigni with some emphasis on the words. "They can be all held, I believe, without taking the vows."
"Your uncle holds them," answered Madame de Chazeul, "and he has taken no vows that I know of--unless it be, never to drink thin piquette when he can get strong Burgundy, or to eat pork when he can find venison."
De Montigni smiled, and was going on to stop the questions of the Marchioness by inquiries of his own, when the summons to dinner was heard, and the whole party descended to the hall below.
When the meal was over, father Walter put the young Baron in mind, that they had to read over together the papers, in regard to which there had been so much discussion. Although De Montigni much wished to occupy Madame de Chazeul as far as possible during the day, he could not well put off the engagement; and whispering to the old commander, to watch her closely, he retired with the priest to his own chamber. There, several long documents were spread out before him; and he proceeded, with pen and ink at hand, to peruse the whole, clause by clause, demanding minute and lengthened explanations as he went on, and taking notes of every point of importance. Father Walter was somewhat surprised at the calm and steady good sense he displayed; and, though De Montigni expressed neither consent to nor dissent from any of the items, was more and more convinced every moment, that the young Baron had made up his mind, to accept the benefices and renounce the estates.
In the meanwhile the Marchioness de Chazeul had drawn her son away from the rest of the party below, and walking with him on the rampart, was giving him those lessons of which she had spoken to the priest. Not a word did she say of Helen de la Tremblade; nor a word of reproach or reproof did she utter; but her conversation turned entirely upon his demeanour towards Rose d'Albret.
"Ah Chazeul!" she said, after taking a turn backward and forward, in the tone of one jesting with a friend, "thou art a silly lad, I fear, and little knowest how to push thy fortune with womankind."
"Nay, my good mother, it is not thought so," replied Chazeul, drawing up his head and smoothing his ruff; "I am no seeker after the fame of such conquests, but I have some reason to believe they are not so difficult as they are supposed to be."
"True," answered his mother, "doubtless with the light Parisian dame, the gay lady who has known a thousand lovers, thou art a potent assailant; but she is like a city which has been besieged and taken a thousand times, till all the outworks and ramparts have been battered down, and the place is right willing to surrender at the first sight of artillery. With a maiden fortress, however, such as this fair Rose d'Albret, thou art but a poor general, otherwise you would have gained the citadel long ago."
"Meaning her heart; but how would you have had me conduct the siege, dear mother?" asked her son, pursuing the simile she had used.
"By assault, Nicholas!" replied the Marchioness; "prayers, tears, vows, daring, anything. Here neither wall, nor bastion, nor redoubt, is to be gained but by vigorous attack. Women, who by experience have not gained a knowledge of their own weakness, are always more resolute in resistance than those who have learned that they cannot long hold out when closely pressed. Storm and escalade are the only ways with such castles, Chazeul; and if you were to pursue till doomsday your cold and formal rules of siege, you would make no way, but find defences grow up in proportion to the feebleness of the attack."
"Why, you would not surely have me treat Rose d'Albret as any common woman of but light fame?" said Chazeul. "You are much mistaken, mother, if you think that is the way to win her."
"Nay, I would have you treat her very differently, foolish boy," replied the Marchioness. "With a woman of light fame, as you call her you may well trust to her to make at least half the advances. With a young ignorant girl you must make them all yourself; for, be sure, she will not. One or the other must be bold and daring; and the only question is, on whose part it shall be. The practised dame will take her share on herself, the inexperienced girl expects it all from you. We all know in our hearts, Chazeul, that we do not dislike an impetuous lover. Though we may chide, we easily forgive even very grave offences, so that love be the excuse. The story of the Romans and the Sabines was a good allegory of women's hearts; men must take them by force if they would have them."
"Oh, her heart is mine sufficiently for all the purposes of wedded life," replied her son. "I know her better than you, my good mother, and am well aware that more things enter into the calculations of that little brain than you imagine.--I would not spoil her," he continued, "with too much devotion. You women grow exacting as you imagine you have power; and I would have her think the tie she has upon me is not too strong, lest she should one day think fit to use it strongly. It is enough for me to know, that she sees clearly her own interest in a marriage with myself. She will not expect, in a wedding of convenience, all that court and exclusive attention which some brides demand; and every little loverlike act will come with tenfold force."
"All very wise and very prudent, good youth," replied his mother, "if you had no rival, no competitor in the game that you are playing; if there were no obstacles, no difficulties in the way. But here our great object is time and secure possession; and had you, by bold and ardent eagerness, advanced your suit so that she had no escape from marriage with you, we should have found both herself and De Montigni more tractable, depend upon it."
"She is tractable enough," replied Chazeul, "it is De Montigni alone that holds out; and she has done her best to persuade him, I am sure. A rival, do you call him? but a pitiful rival to me! and as to obstacles and difficulties, whatever have existed are swept away already. She has done her best to persuade De Montigni to sign; and I am sure he will do so."
"Well," said the Marchioness, "we shall see. I think he will, but do not feel so sure. He was somewhat too smooth and courteous just now; and I thought I saw a somewhat double meaning in his words, as if he hoped still that Rose might raise up some impediment.--We must suffer him to have no farther speech with her alone. It is a dangerous plan."
"There is no fear of Rose," replied Nicholas de Chazeul, peevishly. "If it be anything like love on his part for her that you dread, it is a vain fancy. Had you seen him meet her last night, you would have been cured of such dreams. He was as cold as if we had imported a statue from Italy, fresh cut in the stone; and not all Rose could do would warm him."
"Ay, before others," rejoined the Marchioness, "but perhaps when alone it might be different."
"No, no," said Chazeul, "my uncle watched them; and it was just the same: all formal bows and stiff courtesies.--But who is this, comes riding here?" he continued, gazing from the battlements. "A trumpet at full speed, with a green scarf! News from Mayenne, upon my life! I must go down and see."
Thus ended a conversation which has been repeated here with reluctance; but it is as needful, in painting nature, to show the mind and character of the bad as of the good, to display the thoughts and reasonings of the wicked as of the virtuous. Neither does the portrait of Madame de Chazeul serve little to exemplify the times in which she lived. France was then full of such. Intrigue of every kind, amorous and political, was then at its height, and most of the infamous and daring deeds that were done, either for the gratification of private passions, or for the attainment of great public objects, were suggested by women.
The man who had been seen riding so sharply towards the château, proved to be a trumpeter sent by the Duke of Nemours with letters to Chazeul, notifying the march of the army of the League to relieve the town of Dreux, closely besieged by the King, and calling upon him to join it, with all his retainers, as a battle seemed inevitable. The despatches spoke in glowing terms of the force under Mayenne. It was nearly double in number, they said, to that which Henry of Bourbon could bring to oppose it, and a glorious victory would soon be achieved, in which all honourable men would long to take part. Chazeul, however, sent an ambiguous answer; for he was not one to sacrifice his private interests even to the triumph of his faction, and he was resolved to possess the hand of Rose d'Albret, and to see the estates of Liancourt and Marennes secured to himself, before he quitted the Château of Marzay.
More than one hour elapsed before Louis de Montigni had terminated his examination of the papers with the priest; and even then, with all father Walter's skill, he could not extract from him any promise, either direct or indirect, to sign them. To the eager questions of Madame de Chazeul the priest could but reply, "I cannot tell what he will do. I believe his mind is made up, to act as we could wish; but his demeanour is certainly somewhat strange. He has taken notes of everything, and remains pondering over them. Our only plan is to watch the commander, and to cut them off from any private communication with each other. Noon to-morrow will show us what we are to expect; and in the mean time we must guide things as we can. Have you seen Mademoiselle d'Albret?"
The Marchioness replied in the negative, and it was not till one hour before sunset that Rose came forth from her chamber to breathe, for a few minutes, the fresh air. She was pale, and evidently suffering; and whenever Madame de Chazeul attempted to question her, she pleaded indisposition as an excuse for talking little. She gazed forth from the ramparts over the wide country which the château commanded, with a feeling of dread, mingling strangely with hope and joy. The bright sunshine of the first day of spring was glittering over the whole; but on the verge of the southern sky was hanging a dark and heavy mass of clouds, rising up in all sorts of fantastic forms; and Rose could not help associating her own fate with the aspect of the day, and thinking that the bright gleam of summer, which had come to her heart after a long and chilling winter, might, perhaps, be soon blackened by storms, the clouds of which were already within sight.
Soon after the party was joined by De Montigni; and the two lovers strove hard to conceal their feelings under the appearance of cold indifference; but Rose found the task so difficult that she remained only a few moments after the young Baron's appearance, and then once more retired to bed.
Madame de Chazeul remarked the whole; and suspicion rose up in her mind. But the field of probability is wide and dim, so that her doubts found no fixed point to rest upon; and she contented herself with whispering to De Montigni, "Were I a man, I would not long give a lady cause to fly me thus."
The young nobleman made no answer, but turned away, as if somewhat offended; and this slight indication of temper was used by Madame de Chazeul to deceive herself. "Were he not acting contrary to the girl's wishes," she said to herself, "he would not take offence at my supposing it."
The rest of the day passed without any occurrence of importance; and the only points which Madame de Chazeul thought worthy of notice at supper, were the absence of Estoc from the table, and that Louis de Montigni confined his conversation almost altogether to father Walter, with whom he talked a good deal in a low tone. She herself was tired with early rising and a journey. The commander soon retired to rest; and she followed without delay, as soon as she was certified by private information, from one whom she had set to watch, that the good old soldier was actually in his bed. Satisfied that all communication between De Montigni and himself was at an end for the night, she laid herself down to seek that repose which is unfortunately, but not unnaturally, as often the portion of the hardened in vice, as of the virtuous and the good.