CHAPTER XIII.
The moments which the maid Blanchette passed with De Montigni, and afterwards with Chazeul, were full of anxiety to Rose d'Albret. She lay in darkness, wakeful and expectant, listening for every sound to give her some indication of the girl's return to the ante-chamber, from which she had heard her distinctly go forth, without knowing the cause. Imagination was busy with every painful possibility. She feared that their whole scheme of flight might be discovered; she thought that the maid might have conceived a suspicion from some little preparations which she had made during the evening; she asked herself what would be her fate if the execution of their design were prevented. Would they, could they, compel her to unite herself to Chazeul? and she now shrunk from the very idea with tenfold horror. She would not do it, she thought; she would sooner die. She would seek the protection of the cloister--anything, she would do anything, rather than give her hand to one whom she equally disliked and despised. Suddenly, in the midst of these feelings, a sensation of wonder at their vehemence came over her; and she asked herself how it was that her ideas upon the subject had been so suddenly and completely changed.
She had till lately looked upon her marriage with Chazeul as a thing arranged, and to which she would submit, not without some repugnance, perhaps, but without that degree of horror and dislike which she now experienced. At first she had been coldly indifferent; and afterwards she had wished to put off the day of the sacrifice as long as possible; but she now felt that a life of penury and daily labour, would be comparative happiness to wedding Nicholas de Chazeul.
How had a single day made this strange difference? she inquired, and then she thought of De Montigni; and, though no eye could see her, the colour rose in her cheek, to feel how different were all her sensations towards him, how willingly to him she would yield heart and hand! But the secret of the change was discovered,--she loved, and loved truly, and a new light had shone into her heart.
Quickly, however, her thoughts wandered back again to the present; and once more she listened for Blanchette's return. Where could she have gone? she asked herself; what could be her motive, if something were not discovered? Her own heart was too pure to attribute to the girl that conduct which, perhaps, if she had known all, would have been first suspected; but as she raised herself on her arm, to give ear to some distant noise, she heard the outer door of the ante-room open again, and the step of the maid moving about in the neighbouring chamber. With a beating heart, and in breathless silence, Rose marked every sound, till at length a thin line of light, which crossed the floor from the key-hole, was suddenly extinguished; and she heard the girl take her place in bed. A few minutes after, the clock of the château struck twelve, but Rose still lay quiet for some minutes in order that the spy upon her actions might be asleep before she moved.
Blanchette, however, was one of the "dull weeds" that easily fasten themselves on "Lethe's shore." Herself was all she thought of, all she cared for; and, having provided to the best of her ability for the success and prosperity of that well-loved person, she was soon in the arms of slumber, undisturbed by any of the reproaches of conscience, or the lighter tones of imagination. The heavy breathing of profound and dreamless sleep was heard erelong; and, rising from her bed, Rose d'Albret dressed herself as well as she could in the darkness, and drew down the tapestry over the door between her room and that of the maid, to prevent Blanchette from hearing any sound within.
She feared that she should not be ready in time; and she hastened all her preparations eagerly, as much to withdraw her own thoughts from fears and apprehensions, as to guard against being too late; but, as so often happens, all was complete long before the hour; and for nearly twenty minutes, she sat at a little distance from the window, trembling with agitation and alarm.
She had now full time to give way to all the busy thoughts that naturally sprang from her situation. She felt she loved--she trusted she was beloved in return; but still to fly with De Montigni from all other protection--to put herself entirely in his power--to cast herself thus into his arms; it was rash, she thought; it was foolish. Would he continue to love her? Might not his quickly-roused passion die away as soon? Might he not be the first to think her rash confidence in him, bold, almost immodest?
"No, no!" she answered, "he would not do so; he was too kind--too generous. He always had been. Why should she think him changed in mind and heart, in thought and feeling, since the bright days of his boyhood, when she had loved him so well? Did he not tell her that he had always loved her?--did he not promise to love her always?--and when had he ever broken his word? No, no! It was but agitation and weak terror made her doubt."
Even if there were a risk, she thought again, even if the dream of happiness with Louis de Montigni, which had come with so sweet a relief to her heart, were not to be fully realized, yet, when the only alternative was to wed a man she now hated and contemned, could she hesitate to give herself to one she loved? and again she answered, "No! If death were the only other course, she would seek it, rather than give her hand to Nicholas de Chazeul."
Her mind then turned to the dangers of the way; to the chance of being stopped ere they could quit the castle; to the likelihood of being discovered and frustrated; to the shame and confusion that must follow. She pictured herself brought before Monsieur de Liancourt; she called up the scornful looks of Chazeul and the sneering taunts of his mother; and for a moment her heart sank as fancy painted the scene with the vividness of reality. But then her spirit rose; "I would not bear it," she said to herself. "I would own my love to one, and my hatred to the other. I would call for a sight of the contract that my father signed. I would refuse to wed this man--aye, even if they dragged me to the altar. I would demand the protection of the good old commander, and put myself under the guardianship of the law."
Poor girl, she little knew how powerless was the law in France at that moment. "It is strange," she continued, turning to another line of thought, "I have not heard the clock strike one; and yet it is long since twelve. Can anything have gone wrong? It must have struck without my hearing it.--How dark it is without! Not a star in the sky, and the moon down! Those must be drops of rain I hear."
A moment after the heavy bell of the clock sounded upon her ear; and she found how long tedious expectation can make one short hour. Rose smiled at her own impatience, and said in her heart, "I must not let Louis know how eagerly I have watched for him; and yet, why not? If he be generous, as I think, to be so loved will but increase his own; and if he be not, no arts will keep a wayward heart. Hark, there is a sound!" and the next instant, something like the steel point of a sword's scabbard, struck lightly against the window.
Rose opened it without noise, and asked in a low and trembling voice, "Who is there?"
"'Tis I! 'tis I, my beloved," answered De Montigni, who was standing on a ladder, which had been placed against the window. "All is ready if you are. But, before you come, secure your maid in her own room. We have turned the key without. She is not to be trusted; and it were well to prevent her from giving the alarm to-morrow, till the last moment."
"There is but a bolt," said Rose d'Albret, "and I fear I shall wake her with the noise, for it is a very heavy one."
"Stay, dearest," replied her lover; "I will do it," and he sprang lightly into the room.
"Oh, Louis," whispered Rose, as he held her for a moment to his heart, "do not waste time."
"I will not," he answered. "Where is this bolt," and following Rose, who led him on with a trembling hand, he drew back the tapestry and felt for the bolt upon the door. Slowly and gently he pushed it forward; but this was not accomplished without some noise, and the heart of Rose d'Albret beat as if it would have burst through her side. She could not even listen for the throbbing; but De Montigni bent down his ear; and after a moment he whispered, "it is all safe, she sleeps, my beloved. Now, Rose, now," and taking her hand in his, he led her back towards the window.
He felt by the trembling of her hand, that she was greatly agitated; and although, when he had first entered the room, he had given way, as we have seen, for a single instant, to the warm emotions of his heart, he would not now add by one rash caress to that which Rose already underwent. When they reached the window, however, he drew the other side of the casement farther back, to get out first and assist her in descending. But the lady detained him a moment by the hand, asking in a low voice, "And will you love me ever, Louis?"
"As from my earliest youth, so to my last hour, dear Rose," replied De Montigni in the same low tone.
"And will you never judge me rash, imprudent, bold, De Montigni?" again inquired the lady; "will you never reproach me, even in your own secret heart, for listening to your persuasions? will you never think it was immodest or unfeminine to quit the shelter of my guardian's house, and give myself to you with this implicit confidence?"
"Never, dear Rose!" replied De Montigni; "banish such idle apprehensions. I shall ever feel the deepest gratitude. I shall ever feel respect for that decision which saves me the pain, the peril, and the grief of bringing to account my nearest relations for a most shameful attempt to violate the contract with your father, and to defraud me of my own--for you are my own, Rose. You are plighted to me from your infancy, and indeed, dear one, I have a right to demand, as the only one entitled to your hand, that you should take the only means by which it can be secured to me; and for your thus yielding willingly and readily, my thanks, and love, and gratitude, are yours for ever."
"Well, then, there is my hand, De Montigni," said Mademoiselle d'Albret, "and I am yours. I do not doubt you, Louis,--I do not doubt you; but in these things woman may well be timid; for her all is at stake; and God knows those we play against are often cheats."
"Such am not I, dear Rose," replied her lover. "Come, my Rose, come!" and stepping out of the window, he held his hands towards her, to guide her in the descent.
Rose d'Albret closed her eyes, murmured a short prayer to God for protection and assistance in the course before her; and, after pausing one moment more, in lingering hesitation, she put her foot upon the ladder, and descended gently, with De Montigni steadying her steps. The height was not great, and the next minute her feet were upon the ground between the old château and the walls that defended it. There was no one below, for De Montigni had determined to come alone, in order to avoid all bustle and confusion.
"Now, dear girl, now," he said, "the first step to freedom is taken. Estoc is waiting for us on the walls; my horses are prepared without; and in five minutes we shall be in liberty."
"But how shall we pass the gates?" asked Rose; "they are always strictly guarded."
"We have placed men that can be depended upon," replied De Montigni, "and the sally port at the south, is in the hands of Estoc. This way, dearest, this way, to the bridge."
Their escape, however, was not destined to be effected so easily as they supposed; for when they reached the spot where the flying bridge which we have so often mentioned hung between the château and the outer walls, De Montigni, on looking up, perceived through the dim air of night that it was raised. There was a flight of stone steps, built against the body of the château, from the sort of paved court in which they were, to the door, that communicated with the bridge; and up these De Montigni sprang in a moment leaving Rose d'Albret below. He found, however, that the chain which suspended the bridge in the air, was pad-locked; and, descending again with a noiseless step, he asked his fair companion in a whisper "Who sleeps in the room on the right?"
"I do not know," replied Rose, "some of Monsieur de Chazeul's servants, I believe."
"There are people talking within," replied De Montigni; "the bridge is up, the chains padlocked; and, even if they were not, the noise of letting it down would call attention. We must go round, dear Rose, to the staircase in the wall."
Rose d'Albret trembled very much; for her agitation was already so great, that any impediment made her heart sink with apprehension; but leaning on De Montigni's arm, she hurried along with him, and soon reached the staircase of which he had spoken, which in another minute led them to the top of the wall.
"Sit here for a moment, dearest," said De Montigni, "while I find Estoc, and do not raise your head above the parapet. He and I may pass for the guards; but the veil and ruff do not well imitate the steel cap and cuirass."
Rose silently did as he bade her, and gazed out, while he was gone, through the neighbouring embrasure. The country through which she was to pass lay before her; but it was all dark and indistinct, like the wide land of the future in the journey of life. There was no star to betoken hope in the sky above; thick clouds, like frowning fate, covered the whole heaven; and though the few heavy drops of rain which had fallen had ceased for the time, there were low sobbing gusts of wind, which seemed to say, that they would soon commence again.
Sad and apprehensive, Rose d'Albret gazed over the scene, and with curious eye strove to trace out the road along which she was to travel, as one does so soften and so vainly in the mortal night which surrounds us here below. Fortunately, however, she had not much time for gloomy meditations. In less than two minutes De Montigni was by her side again, accompanied by Estoc, who bent down and kissed her hand, saying "Come, Mademoiselle, come, don't be frightened about the bridge being up, that is done against those on the outside of the wall, not those on the in. We will soon reach the sally port; but we must cross the court first."
"But who are those that Monsieur de Montigni heard talking in the room to the right of the bridge door?" asked Rose d'Albret in a whisper.
"On my body and life I do not know," replied Estoc; "some of Chazeul's people, about no good, I'll warrant; but they'd better not come near us, or I'll split their skulls and his too, if he meddles. This way, Mademoiselle."
"Hush!" cried Rose drawing back, "there is a man coming along the wall.--Oh Heaven! who can it be?"
"Nobody but Paul the sentinel," replied Estoc. "I placed him here on guard, lady, and he knows his business.--Come!" and leading her on, he passed close by the warder, who for his part, when they approached turned his back to them, and gazed out over the country.
To witness such a thorough understanding between her companions and the guards, restored some degree of confidence and hope to Rose d'Albret; and, hurrying forward, they descended the stairs by which she had mounted, chose the second archway in the body of the building, and crossed the vacant court, where all was still and silent, except a large eagle which was chained to a perch in the midst, and which, disturbed in its reveries by their passing near, flapped its large wings, and uttered a shrill cry. Taking through another archway on the opposite side of the court, they threaded one or two of the passages of the building, and soon reached a paved passage, or coulisse, similar to that which ran between the château and the wall on the northern side. As they walked along, Rose remarked that De Montigni drew round to the side of Estoc, and whispered something in his ear.
"I do not know," replied the old soldier; "I placed him there not ten minutes ago. Perhaps he is standing under the arch."
"I do not think it," said De Montigni; "there is no depth to hide him; and I can see no one."
"My eyes are not so good as they were," answered Estoc; "but he may have opened the door for aught we know, to have all ready."
"What is the matter?" asked Mademoiselle d'Albret, clinging to De Montigni's arm; "what has gone amiss?"
"Nothing, dearest, nothing," replied De Montigni. "'Tis only that we do not see the guard who was placed with the keys of the sally port. He may, perhaps, have opened the door and gone in; or he may have walked on to the end."
When they reached the low-browed door in the wall, however, which was to give them exit from the Château of Marzay, they found no one there, and the heavy iron-covered gate tightly locked. Swearing an oath or two in an under tone, Estoc looked up and down the passage to see if he could perceive the careless warder; but nothing was to be discovered; and no sound or footfall gave notice that he was near.
"Stay," said the old soldier; "stay a moment here, I will go and see for him. I cannot understand this at all. Yet there can be no danger, lady, so do not be afraid; for if anything were discovered, we should find people enough here."
"But if any one should come, while you are gone?" asked Rose d'Albret, in a faltering tone.
"Why, then, you must hide yourselves amongst those passages opposite," replied the old soldier. "You know them well, both of you, for many a hunt have I had after you amongst them, when you were children."
Notwithstanding all her apprehensions, Rose d'Albret could but smile, as the old man's words brought up before her mind the picture of the happy hours of childhood; and she laid her hand fondly on De Montigni's arm, feeling that she did love him truly, and had loved him longer than she once thought she had.
"Let us go at once, Louis," she said, "into what we used to call the labyrinth; they would not find us easily there, and we can watch till he comes back."
"Ay, ay," said Estoc; "go there, pretty lady. I will not be a minute, for the man cannot be far off."
Thus saying he left them; and crossing the passage, they entered an arch, a little way farther down, which communicated with some of the inferior parts of the building but little used by the household, and was traversed by narrow stone corridors, with innumerable staircases to rooms above. Placing themselves under the shelter of the vault they waited, listening to the old soldier's receding step; but the momentary light which had come up in Rose d'Albret's mind, at his allusion to former days, passed rapidly away as she stood there with her lover, uncertain of what the next hour might bring forth.
The moment after, they heard the neigh of a horse beyond the walls, and De Montigni, turning to her, whispered, "There is but a little space between us and safety, Rose."
"Alas! it may be enough," replied Rose d'Albret, "to bar us from all our hopes."
"Nay, nay," answered her lover; "take not such a gloomy view of it, dear one; there are always small obstacles to every scheme; but these will soon be removed, and all will go well."
"God grant it," said Rose d'Albret; but even as she spoke, she drew back farther within the arch, saying, "Hush! there are figures upon the wall."
"Stand, give the word," cried a sentinel above.
"I forget it," replied the voice of Chazeul; "but you know me, my man?--You know Monsieur de Chazeul?"
"I know no one without the word," replied the soldier. "Stand off, or you are a dead man!"
"Dare you be so insolent?" exclaimed Chazeul. "Who commands the guard to-night?"
"I do my duty, Sir," replied the soldier; "so stand back, I say! It is Monsieur de l'Estoc's guard."
"I thought so," replied Chazeul; "like master like man. Go, and call him. Sir."
"Not I," answered the soldier; "I do not quit my post for any one. You can call him yourself, if you want him."
"I will," replied Chazeul sternly; "and have you punished for your insolence;" and, turning back along the wall, he proceeded to search for Estoc.