CHAPTER XIV.
The small evils of life, against which, in the narrowness of our views, and the idleness of our heart, we so often pray, as if they were as hideous as unmasked sin, how often do they work for us the greatest benefits in ways we never dreamt of!--how often do they even forward us in the very course they seemed likely to obstruct! There is not a hair of our head that is not numbered; there is not a sparrow falls to the ground unmarked; so we were told by Him who is Truth; and surely there is not an act or incident of our life that has not its end and object in the great scheme of our being, and in the greater scheme of universal nature. Pleasant is it, and sweet to contemplate, for the eye of faith, that all is ruled and directed to its fixed purpose by Almighty wisdom, and infinite goodness.
"He is gone!" whispered De Montigni to Rose d'Albret, as Chazeul strode away. "You see it is fortunate, dear girl, that we did not find the sally port open, or we should have been passing just at the moment he was upon the walls above. He could not have stayed us, it is true, for we have a large party in the castle; but it might have occasioned strife, and that I would fain avoid."
"Oh yes, yes!" said Rose. "God grant that we may escape that,--but hark! it is raining, Louis."
"That is unlucky," replied De Montigni. Yet, in truth, it was far from unfortunate for the success of their scheme. The large drops which began to descend in a heavy shower, soon changed the purpose of Nicholas de Chazeul, who was lightly clothed, and somewhat careful of his own person; and instead of seeking Estoc, as he had intended, he hurried back to his own chamber, cast off his wet clothes, and retired to bed, keeping his indignation for the following morning.
In the meanwhile Louis de Montigni and Rose d'Albret, remained for some minutes longer under the archway; and, although apprehension and anxiety had a large share in the fair Lady's feelings, it must not be denied, that there were sweet and happy sensations too. With her arm twined through that of her lover, with her hand clasped in his, she felt all the joy, the thrilling and inexpressible joy of loving, trusting, confiding; and she felt it too for the first time. All the freshness of the young heart was there; that freshness which in all things is the point of perfection,--the moment of expansion to the flower; the hour of ripeness to the fruit, when colour, and beauty, and scent, and flavour, and delight, are all at their full before one petal has fallen or withered, before one tint has faded, before the bloom has been brushed off, before the enjoyment has palled, or the fine edge of sensation has been blunted. There are feelings in the human heart, and they are the brightest of those which have any reference to earth, which are like those small delicate flies, that live but an hour in their beauty, and then pass away, unable to sustain even the weight of the common air; and with Rose d'Albret that was the moment of their existence. She had never before known what it was to give the whole heart, to cling to another, as if in him she had a second life; to look to him for all her future joy; to trust in him for aid, protection and support; to fear for him more than for herself; to believe, her best gift, was to render him happy. The world in which she had lived, was a cold and dreary one; there had been no heart which had sympathies with hers; no voice to reciprocate kind words; no mind with which to exchange the thoughts that were busy in her own. All who surrounded her were different from her in years, in ideas, in feelings, in objects. It was a dark and shadowy state of being, whose only light had been memory, memory of him who now stood beside her till he himself had returned, like her morning star, and the day of love had dawned upon her heart, driving the shades away, and gilding even the clouds, that still hung over the sky.
Thus, though dread and apprehension still had some share in her feelings, poor Rose d'Albret was not now without a bright portion of happiness; and the gentle pressure of the hand, the mute caress, the word of tenderness and comfort from her lover's lips, produced sensations in her bosom which he did not know, which, perhaps man never fully knows, in his dealings with woman.
At length there came a hurried tread, as if more than one person were approaching, and De Montigni took a step forward before his fair companion, and loosened his sword in the scabbard. The rain was falling heavily; the night had become doubly dark; and he could only distinguish the forms of two men advancing quickly along the coulisse, without being able to discover who they were. One he thought indeed was Estoc, but he was not sure, till at length the man on the right hand paused opposite the sally port, and appeared to unlock the door, while the other came on towards the spot where he stood.
"It is Estoc, dear Rose," he said; "it is Estoc with the keys."
"Be sure, be sure!" whispered Rose, laying hand upon his arm; but the next instant Estoc himself stood before them, saying, "Quick, Louis! quick! there are more people stirring in the château than we wot of."
"Chazeul was on the walls but a moment ago," replied De Montigni, "but the sentinel would not let him pass."
"I know, I know," replied Estoc. "I heard it all, but the rain has driven him in, the white-livered knave.--You will get sadly wet, sweet lady, I fear."
"Oh, I mind not a little rain," replied Rose d'Albret. "How often have you seen me drenched in hunting! Estoc; and it will not hurt me more now, that I am being hunted,--but what was the cause of the delay?"
"They had given the man the wrong key," replied Estoc, "and he knew not how to get the right one, without betraying that there was something secret going on,--the door is open now, however. Let us be quick.--Hark! there is two!--Moments are precious."
"I am quite ready," said Rose; but De Montigni, before he suffered her to issue forth into the rain, covered her as well as he could with his cloak, though the short mantles of those days, afforded but a very inefficient protection against a heavy shower. They then crossed the passage, and gliding along under the wall, found the door of the sally port open, and the guard holding it back.
"Ged bless you, Lady! God bless you, Sir," said the man as they passed. And the prayer of a plain and honest heart for our welfare, has always its effect in comforting, and reassuring.
Estoc led the way, along the stone-faced court, under the earthen mound, which there defended the wall, across a little bridge over the ditch, and through the gate beyond, which he unlocked to let them pass. Beneath the shadow of the gate, and three or four old trees, which grew beside it, stood a party of seven or eight men, with their hands upon their horses' bridles, ready to mount in a moment. Two other saddled horses were amongst them, and while De Montigni lifted Rose d'Albret lightly from the ground, and mounted her securely, old Estoc said, in a low voice, "It is your own limousin, Mademoiselle, so you know his mouth, and he knows your hand."
"Thank you, thank you for your kindness, Estoc," replied the lady; "these are moments never to be forgotten."
De Montigni pressed the old soldier in his arms; and then saying, "We shall meet again soon, Estoc, I hope in the King's camp," he sprang upon his horse's back, and laying his hand upon Rose's rein, to lead her forward through the darkness, set out upon the road to Dreux.
Estoc turned back into the castle, closed the gates behind him, made a turn upon the ramparts, listened for a few minutes till he could hear no more the retreating sound of horses' feet, and then retiring to the guard-room, under the principal gate, dried himself by the blazing logs upon the hearth. In a few minutes, however, he gave some orders to one of the soldiers, who was sitting near, and then stretching himself upon a camp bedstead in the corner, was soon sound asleep.
Everything remained quiet in the château during the night. Unconscious of what had taken place, those whose cunning schemes had been frustrated, remained in the tranquil slumber of imaginary success, dreaming of the coming day, and of seeing the seal put upon their intrigues by the voluntary renunciation of De Montigni's right, through which, not only the much coveted estates of Liancourt, but the hand of Rose d'Albret, and the inheritance which that hand conveyed, were, they thought, to be lost to him, for whom they were originally intended.
The only person who slept but little, was the old commander De Liancourt, who, partly on account of the pain of his wounds, and partly from anxiety for his nephew's safety and success, lay tossing on his bed till within an hour of morning, wondering if all had gone right, and repeating, a thousand and a thousand times, "All is quiet! They must have got off; otherwise, I should have heard something."
With the first dawn of day, some of the inferior servants began to stir in the house. The scullions proceeded to their abhorred task of scouring the brazen pots and kettles in the kitchen; the turnspit dog waddled slowly from the hearth, the scene of his daily toil, where he found warmth and repose during the night, to hide himself in some corner from the eyes of the persecuting cook; and various other drudges, well called femmes de peine, went through the different halls and chambers, clearing off that dust which rise from the decay of every earthly thing, and falls every hour--a memento, if we would but see it, of the perishable nature of all here below--upon the polish and the gilding with which we seek to cover all the coarse materials from our eyes.
Soon the higher functionaries began to appear upon the scene; cooks, and grooms of the chambers, and all the officers and attendants who, in those days, thronged the house of a French nobleman; and then the masters themselves. First, came father Walter, in his black garments, pacing up and down the hall, and gazing, from time to time, out of the high windows at the rainy sky. He was soon joined by Monsieur de Chazeul, followed, shortly after, by the Count de Liancourt. These three continued, stretching their limbs by a walk up and down the wide pavement, for near half an hour, conversing over all that had taken place the day before, and speculating upon the coming event. Chazeul related to his two companions the intelligence he had received from Blanchette on the preceding night, and the application which De Montigni had made for another interview with Rose d'Albret.
"That was not right," said Monsieur de Liancourt. "One interview was all he asked; that was granted, and he ought not to have sought more."
How boldly do we judge of what is right and wrong in the conduct of others! how boldly do we censure and condemn, very often when we are doing them the bitterest injustice! Monsieur de Liancourt totally forgot, when he talked of right, that Louis de Montigni was really entitled, not only to one interview with Rose d'Albret, but to every hour of her time, to her hand, to her heart, to her fortune,--he totally forgot it, I say, and thought that the schemes which he had so long nurtured, the ideas which he had so long indulged, formed the only standard by which to measure the conduct and the rights of others. Do not let the reader suppose this unnatural. Let him look around, he will find the same perversion of views in every country, in every house, in every family; let him look within, he will find it more or less in his own heart, whenever his own interests, wishes, prejudices, or passions, are placed in opposition to the rights of others.
At length, when about half an hour had passed, the Count began to think it strange that his fair ward, who was always an early riser, had not yet appeared, and asked if the others had seen anything of her.
"No," replied Chazeul. "I suppose, as she cannot take her favourite walk this rainy day, she keeps her own chamber, to be out of the way of De Montigni."
The priest looked down and mused, for he entertained some doubts as to Rose's feelings being exactly those which Chazeul's vanity led him to suppose, though, it must be remarked, he had not the slightest suspicion of the event which had just taken place.
"Have you seen Blanchette this morning?" inquired the Count.
"No," replied Chazeul; "but I will send my knave, Alphonso, to see after her. It will but be courteous to inquire for her mistress's health."
He was turning towards the door, when his mother entered, and asked at once, "Where is Rose?"
"She has not appeared yet," replied Chazeul. "I am just going to inquire after her, most noble dame."
"See, see yourself, Nicholas," cried the Marchioness, sharply. "One of my girls tells me, that, passing by her door just now, she heard a knocking, as if carpenters were at work. Is De Montigni absent, too? Why, it is near the hour of mass!"
Chazeul left the room instantly, by the door which led direct along the corridor, to the apartments of Rose d'Albret. All was still, however; the noise which his mother mentioned had ceased; and it was not till he came close to the ante-chamber that he thought he heard a sound of moaning, as if some one was giving way to the expression of pain or grief. He instantly knocked at the door, and called to Blanchette, who demanded, in a voice half-drowned by tears, "Who is there?"
"It is I," replied the Marquis. "What is the matter, Blanchette? Open the door; let me in."
"I cannot," replied Blanchette; "the door is locked, and I can't get out."
"How is your mistress?" asked Chazeul.
"I do not know," replied the girl.
"Well, go in and see, then," said the Marquis.
"I cannot," rejoined Blanchette again; "that door is fastened too."
A sudden suspicion of the truth flashed through the mind of Chazeul, and he stood for a moment, stupified with surprise and anger. Then, hastening back to the hall, he exclaimed, "Something is wrong! The girl Blanchette is locked into her room.--We must force the door."
"To the window! to the window!" replied the Marchioness; and, hurrying out to the flying bridge, they descended the stone steps into the coulisse, Monsieur de Liancourt exclaiming,
"Quick! some one bring a ladder."
"There is no ladder needed, my wise brother," said Madame de Chazeul, the moment after, pointing with her hand to the spot where, underneath the window of Rose's chamber, might still be seen the instrument used in her escape. "You will find one ready. Those who like to go on in the rain, and see the nest of the flown bird, may go, I shall return to the hall." And thus saying, she ascended the steps, while the rest of the party hurried on.
By the ladder easy access was obtained to the room of Mademoiselle d'Albret; and it is not necessary to detail the state in which it was found. Rose, as the reader is aware, was no longer there; and all that remained for those that sought her, was to liberate Blanchette, and inquire when, how, and why, her mistress had fled.
The girl, however, could tell them nothing of the truth; and, though she made up for the deficiency by telling plenty of falsehoods, endeavouring, in the fear and agitation of the moment, to screen herself from suspicions which were never directed towards her, yet her information, of having heard her mistress move in her chamber about three o'clock in the morning, without thinking anything of it, of having visited her the last thing before she went to bed herself, and seeing her soundly asleep in bed, together with sundry other fanciful pieces of intelligence, proved not in the least satisfactory to the hearers.
After much wonder, and some consideration, and a good deal of examination in the apartments of Mademoiselle d'Albret, the party were obliged to make their egress by the window again, the outer door being locked and the key gone.
They found Madame de Chazeul in the hall, with an angry spot upon her cheek, and her brow knit, while the old commander, dressed as if for a journey, with his sword by his side, and the cross of his order round his neck, sat upon a bench at one side of the hall, tapping his leg deliberately with his staff.
"I am glad you are come, Count," said the Marchioness; "here is our brother Michael evidently knows all about this infamous abduction; but he will make no answer to my inquiries."
"Why, I told you I would not, Jacqueline, till Liancourt came," replied the Commander. "Now he is come, I will tell you all I know, and also perform the task I took upon me yesterday."
"Well, Sir, well, be quick," replied the Count. "I have borne your humours too long; and I will endure no tricks and treachery, depend upon it."
The old soldier's cheek grew warm. "No tricks but your own, Sir," he replied. "But we all know you are a tool in the hands of others, and therefore to be forgiven, like all weak men, who make themselves the instruments of knaves. Ay, you may stare, Jacqueline; but be good enough to remember, I was never afraid of those black eyes, even when the cheeks were round and soft, and am not more timid now, when they are shrivelled and skinny. The simple matter of fact is this, Anthony, you have all laid your heads together to deprive Louis de Montigni, the son of our poor sister Louise, of the inheritance which I renounced in her favour, and in favour of her children. I did not renounce it in your favour, Madame Jacqueline; for you were always able to take care of yourself, though Louise was mild and gentle, and consequently continually kept down, and deprived of just estimation."
"And may I ask, Sir," said Monsieur de Liancourt, with a cold, and haughty air, "what business it was of yours, if Monsieur de Montigni choose to renounce also?"
"I don't know that," replied the old Commander; "he cannot renounce without my returning to my rights. However, I would have made no noise about that, if he had done so willingly, and with his eyes open. But I did not choose to have him deceived, and so I was resolved he should know all. The priest there, like an honest man, told him, that he had some right to the estates, and I told him what."
The Marchioness turned a fierce look upon father Walter, who met it with a calm and tranquil air, apparently in no degree taken by surprise or annoyed.
"But I told him, moreover, my good brother," continued the Commander, "that if he gave up the estates, he gave up his claim and right to the hand of Mademoiselle d'Albret,--to our sweet Rose. It is right that every one should know how he stands, and what he does, brother Anthony; and as you did not tell him, I did. I told him the contract was in his favour, not in that of yonder gentleman in ruffs and ear-rings, inasmuch as it engaged for the marriage of the young lady to the heir of Liancourt, which he is by my renunciation; and if he had given up his claim, I would have married her myself; for then I should be heir of Liancourt again. But as I am old, and somewhat battered in the wars, and should limp a little in following a bride through a ballroom, he thought fit to save me the trouble, and consequently determined to hold his own."
"My son, my son, this is no jesting matter," said father Walter in a grave tone; "I beseech you, what you have to speak, speak seriously."
"If I speak seriously, sir priest," replied the old soldier, "I may have to say things not very palatable to many here present. But if it must be, so it shall be. In a word, then, brother, he found that he had been deceived, kept in ignorance, cajoled to part with rights concealed from him. Had it been but the estates, he would have given them up at a word, as I did; but he would not give up her he loved, except at her own request. In this, too, he discovered, he had been cheated. Instead of finding that she had freely and willingly promised her hand to a man who possessed her heart, he learned that she too had been misled into the belief that she was contracted to yonder gentleman, and that she was about, unwillingly, to yield to what she thought duty--poor thing!--without either loving, or having promised at all."
"But she did promise," exclaimed Chazeul. "I call upon all here to witness it."
"That's a lie!" answered the Commander sternly; "nor the first, good nephew, by many! She never promised; for only two days ago I heard her ask a short time to consider. You cannot deny it, priest."
"I cannot," said father Walter.
"Well then," continued the old officer, "he asked to see her alone, to learn her own mind--"
"We did not know that he was going thus treacherously--" cried Chazeul.
"To tell her the truth," interrupted the Commander; "or you would have taken care to prevent it. But when he had enlightened her on those subjects, and found that she very much preferred himself to you, he suggested to her that, to save needless trouble, and dispute, it would be better for her to take her departure at once with the husband of her father's choice, and, placing themselves under the protection of the King, demand his sanction to their immediate marriage. Ay, the King! nephew,--the King, father Walter--Henry the Fourth, King of France and Navarre, who is so, and will be so whether it pleases you or not!--But I forgot," he added, "the boy left a letter with me for you brother Anthony. Ho! Estoc there, get me that letter, pray."
While this delectable conversation had been proceeding, Madame de Chazeul had seated herself in the chair usually occupied by the Count, and, leaning her head upon her hand, had seemed more busied with her own thoughts than with anything that was going on around; but at the mention of the letter, she raised her head, with a bitter sneer upon her lip, asking, "Pray whose manufacture is the epistle? Is it an extract from Cæsar's Commentaries by the Commander de Liancourt, or a parody upon Ovid's Art of Love by Monsieur de Montigni?"
"Neither, Jacqueline," replied her brother, "but a good honest letter, from a youth whom you have not been able to cheat, with all your cunning. The letter,--the letter, Estoc," he continued, as his old comrade put his head into the hall--Where is Louis's letter? You had it.
"Oh ay! of course he had it," cried Chazeul, as the good soldier advanced with a paper in his hand; and then turning round, the Marquis whispered for an instant to the Count, who, after taking the letter from the hands of Estoc, made him a sign to stay.
"You know of all this affair, Sir," said Monsieur de Liancourt, fixing his eyes upon him, "and gave aid and encouragement."
"I saw them at the last moment," replied Estoc at once, "and had they wanted encouragement would have given it to them; but they did not; and as to aiding them, I had no commands to stop any one quitting the castle."
"It was your duty, Sir, to stop any fugitives from authority," replied the Count; "and I have a great mind to punish you."
"To do that you have no power, Sir," answered Estoc; "you forget I am not your servant, Count of Liancourt, but a gentleman and a soldier, though a poor one. I have, at the desire of my good old commander here, aided you voluntarily to keep your château in these troublous times; but I have taken no wage nor pay from you or yours; and, let me tell you, he is a bold man that talks of punishing a French gentleman that has done no wrong."
"Come, come, Anthony," cried the Commander, "no folly, if you please. Estoc is my guidon; you have nought to do with him. If there be fault, it is mine. I aided, I encouraged them; I told them to go, and helped them to do it; and whoever says I had not a right to do so, lies in his teeth!--But read the letter, brother o'mine; for you may have something to say to it; and I am away this morning. My litter and my men are ready in the court."
"And the sooner you go, Michael, the better," said Madame de Chazeul.
"Not at your bidding, Jacqueline," replied the Commander, while his brother opened the letter and read it. "Ay, here comes your creature, Blanchette. On my life, this has been a pretty honest scheme from the beginning."
"What does he say?" inquired the Marchioness, as the Count read.
"Oh, hear it, hear it!" answered Monsieur de Liancourt: "you will then see, how grateful he is for all the care and kindness I have bestowed upon his youth;" and he proceeded to read as follows:
"Sir, my Uncle,
"Before this reaches your hands, I shall be far distant, feeling myself compelled to take a step, which nothing but the desire of avoiding that strife and contention which must ensue, were I to stay and urge my rights in your house, would induce me to adopt. At the same time it is necessary, for my own justification, that I should give some explanation of my conduct. You were pleased on my arrival, to ask for my signature to certain papers, which, on examination of the documents themselves, and consultation with my uncle, the Commander, and others, I found implied a renunciation of my clear right to the estates of Liancourt, and the acceptance of certain benefices as an equivalent. Had that been the only question, I would not have scrupled to consent; but I found that by a contract between you and the late Count de Marennes, made while I was considered certain heir to those estates, the hand of Mademoiselle d'Albret was promised to the person inheriting them. You had given me to understand that the lady's inclination led her to an union with my cousin De Chazeul; and had it been so, my love for her is too sincere, not to have induced me at once to remove every obstacle that my prior claim produced. But certain circumstances led me to believe that in this there was an error; and I therefore required an interview with Mademoiselle d'Albret, that both she and I, might know our real situation, which, by your pardon, let me say, had been concealed from both. I found, during that interview, that she had been deceived into the belief that, in giving her hand to Monsieur de Chazeul, she was only fulfilling her father's contract. When the truth, however, was explained to her, I found that, far from desiring such an alliance, it was most repugnant to her, and that, on the contrary, she was willing to give her hand to him for whom it had been truly destined. We both saw, that to urge my rights in person here, would necessarily produce strife--nay, perhaps bloodshed; and we were well aware that it might be unsafe for her to remain after I was gone, as there are too many instances, in these days, of contracts forcibly violated, and compulsion used to produce alliances neither prompted by inclination nor justified by law. The course which had been pursued towards us for the last five years, led us to apprehend that such might be the case now; and to avoid such a result, Mademoiselle d'Albret consented to accompany me to the court of his Majesty; where, under his sanction and authority, I trust soon to fulfil with her the engagement between her father and yourself. As soon as that is accomplished, being in this matter moved by no sordid considerations, you will not find me indisposed, in gratitude for the care and protection which you bestowed on my early youth, to fulfil your wishes, whatever they may be, in regard to the disposal of your property, even to the sacrifice of what may be my own contingent rights. May God keep you in his holy guard!
"Your nephew,
"Louis de Montigni."
The latter part of the letter was but little attended to by Madame de Chazeul or her son, who were busily talking together in tones so low, that but a word or two only was distinguishable even by the quick ears of the priest, who stood near them.
"Impossible!" said Chazeul, in reply to something which his mother appeared to have suggested: "we have not men enough. He has fifteen of his own old soldiers here; and a number of the men of Liancourt would take his part. I have but seven in the castle.--No, it is impossible."
The Countess muttered something in return, and then added, "Stay, Chazeul: a better plan!" She then whispered a word or two, which escaped all ears but those of her son, adding, "You see to it: bid him come back at full speed when he has seen them housed. Send notice to Nemours, too, and Mayenne; so you will have them in a net. In the meantime, stop this farce as soon as possible. I have a word or two to say to another personage:--Good father, I would fain speak with you," she continued aloud, addressing Walter de la Tremblade, "either before or after mass."
"Which you please, daughter," replied Walter de la Tremblade; "we have still half an hour."
"That will be enough," answered the Marchioness, rising: "and so, good-day, good brother Michael. Like all fools who meddle with what does not concern them, you will one day rue the mischief that you have now made."
"Never, Jacqueline," replied the Commander. "I am not so famous for scheming as you are; but, be you sure that, whatever you may be now plotting, I will find means to put it out of joint with plain honesty and truth, as I have done to-day. Farewell, brother Anthony," he continued; "let us not part bad friends; for what I have done, has been as much to save your honour as anything else."
He held out his hand as he spoke; but the Count put his behind his back, saying, "My honour can take care of itself, Michael; and I do not thank you for this insolent meddling."
"Poor man," said the Commander; and, turning abruptly away, he strode out of the hall, followed by Estoc.