Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XXV.

Poor Rose d'Albret was like an inexperienced youth, playing for a high stake against a numerous party of unprincipled gamblers. While Chazeul was affecting to be her own partner in the game, his mother, as his confederate, was employing all her art against her. During the whole of that day, the Marchioness was busy in every part of the château, preparing all means for the attainment of her object. Now, she was dealing with her weak brother, now with the servants, now with the priest; and it was with no cold and lifeless calculation that she acted, but even with more interest than the mere promotion of her son's views could have inspired. She was in her element; she loved the exercise of her cunning; she took a delight in the act; it gave her excitement, in which to her was life; for all her days had been passed from very early years, either in the fine workings of intrigue, or in stormy passions and the struggles of the mind. Such things were to her as the strong spirit to the drunkard, or the dice to the gamester; and she could not live without them. We shall only trace her course, however, as far as this day is concerned, through one or two of her proceedings; for that will be enough to show how she conducted the whole. As soon as her son had left her in the morning, she proceeded to the chapel of the castle, and there, according to the expression of the day, gave holy water to the body of her brother. It may be asked if the sight of the coffin and the pall, produced no effect upon her mind; if the salutary thoughts of death, and the evidence, of how all vast schemes and laborious efforts must terminate--of the great consummation of earthly ambition--did not create doubt and hesitation, awaken remorse, or excite repentance? Not in the least! Those were strange and awful times, when the daily scenes of blood and death, and the constant spectacle of vice and crime, seemed to have hardened most hearts against all the great moral lessons which mortal fate affords to the living and the light. They did not--perhaps they would not--feel; and the most frenzied licentiousness, the most guilty schemes, the most black and terrible crimes, had often, for witnesses, the dead, for pretexts, religion, for a banner, the cross.

What she went to perform was but a ceremony; and as such she treated it, without one thought but. "We must get the body buried before the marriage, to-morrow.--No need to tell her anything about it."

She was turning to leave the chapel, when the priest entered, and approached her with a slow and solemn step. "Ah! good father," cried the Marchioness, as soon as she saw him, "I have been looking for you. I wished to speak with you about the conduct of this obstinate girl. She still holds out pertinaciously, and something must be done to overcome her headstrong opposition. We have thought of--"

"Not here," replied the priest, interrupting her, "not here! This is a solemn and a holy place, unfit for worldly discussions. Let us go somewhere else, where we can talk over the affair more decently. The lower hall was vacant as I passed through."

"Well, well," cried the Marchioness with a smile, not altogether free from scorn, "There, as well as here."

"Better!" said the priest, leading the way back to the château itself. When they had reached the lower hall, as a large stone paved chamber on the ground floor was called, father Walter was the first to resume the subject; saying, "I thought you would fail in persuading her. Monsieur de Liancourt must use all his authority."

"You know him, father!" answered Madame de Chazeul. "It is upon such occasions that he always fails his friends. Bold till the moment of action comes, he is as timid as a hare when it is most necessary to show firmness."

"Not when he can be made angry," replied the priest, "or when he can be convinced that his own dignity is at stake."

"But on this point, neither of those cases can occur," said the Marchioness. "She will weep and entreat, and then both his dignity and his weakness will take her part. There is but one way before us," she added, in a low and confidential tone, "and that is, to convince her, that her own fame and reputation require her marriage with Chazeul."

"That may be difficult," answered father Walter thoughtfully; "but yet with time it may be done. We may surround her with nets from which it is barely possible for her to escape; and continual importunity does much with woman, as you, lady--"

"Time! Time!" cried Madame de Chazeul impatiently, "but we have no time. That is the very thing that is wanting. The marriage must take place to-morrow, before noon--That is decided. It shall be if I live!"

"Nay, but why such haste?" asked the priest. "With no farther any obstacle but a young lady's reluctance, it were well worth while, to give up a few days to the task of vanquishing that."

The Marchioness gazed at him for a moment with a glance half angry, half doubtful, and then repeated his words, "No obstacle!--Hark ye, Walter de la Tremblade," and she whispered in his ear, "De Montigni is alive and well!"

Father Walter heard the tidings with a calm sarcastic smile, answering, "I thought so, my daughter. But were it not better to have owned this to me, at once? Such want of trust in those on whose prudence you can rely, has marred many a fair project, and will mar many another. De Montigni lives!--Then you must be quick, indeed!--Not that I bear the young man an ill will: not that I would injure him in anything! but if we can by any means prevent it, he must not carry to the heretic party he has espoused, such estates as would centre in his person by his marriage with this lady. Now, Madam, what is your plan? for you have one already contrived, I see."

The Marchioness laughed. "Did you ever know me without a plan?" she asked; "but my present scheme is somewhat difficult to explain. However, do you not think, good father, that things might be so contrived, as to render, in a marvellous short time, a wedding with my son Chazeul, a very good and expedient thing in the eyes of Rose d'Albret herself?"

"What do you mean?" exclaimed the priest after a moment or two of consideration. "You would use no violence? You would not--surely you would not do her a bitter wrong!"

"Oh, no!" cried the Marchioness, "but simply by means and contrivances, which I well know how to manage, make her believe that her fair fame is lost, if she do not marry Chazeul. Luckily, he has a goodly reputation as a bold and successful lover, and so the matter will have every appearance of truth."

"But can you ever clear a fame once clouded?" asked the priest; "can you remove the black plague-spot from the fair name which you have stained? Alas! lady, in this world, every idle tongue, every vain, licentious man, every rancorous woman, can blast the reputation of the good and bright, even by a light word; but where is the power that can restore it? Foul suspicion still whispers the disproved lie in the ear of the credulous multitude, and human malice receives it with delight, and propagates the scandal with busy pertinacity. Will you thus destroy the good name of your son's wife?"

"Only to make her his wife!" replied Madame de Chazeul, "only to herself;" and she proceeded to detail her plan, not sincerely, indeed, not fully; for she was one of those who can deal in complete sincerity with no one; but the priest knew her well, and gathered that which she did not tell, from that which she did. His brow was doubtful and gloomy, however, and he asked, "And yet no violence?"

"None, none!" cried Madame de Chazeul.

"Well," he said, after another long pause, "perhaps it is the only way to obtain her acquiescence.--Yet I love not such plans; and am glad that I myself am to play no part in the affair."

"But should you hear or see Chazeul," asked the Marchioness, "You will take no notice?"

"I shall neither hear nor see him," replied the priest, "for I keep vigil in the chapel by your brother's corpse, according to my promise, until matins."

"That is fortunate!" cried Madame de Chazeul; and then she added, lest he should put his own interpretation on her exclamation, "I mean, that you will be thus freed from all personal knowledge of the business."

"True!" he answered, "true! and I would fain know as little of it as possible.--I must now go and say mass, lady.--The Count, I trust, will be present; though, to speak truth, this house is more like a Huguenot dwelling, than that of a zealous Catholic, so sadly are the ordinances of religion neglected.--But in the course of the morning, I will find a moment to speak with him, and strive to confirm him in his resolutions."

"Do, do, good father!" replied the Marchioness, and left him, not altogether satisfied with herself for having given him any insight into the scheme, of which she was now full.

Blanchette was the next person she practised on; but to her she afforded no intimation of her intentions, leaving her son himself to deal with the maid. But she prepared the way for him, by many an artful hint of the necessity of Blanchette's pleasing him in everything, both before and after his marriage with her mistress, giving her to understand, that her fortunes depended entirely upon his favour, and that if that were maintained, they were secure.

Blanchette listened, and promised to be most obedient; but she clearly saw that there was some ulterior object, to be explained at an after period; and she waited impatiently throughout the day, to learn what it was, hoping to find in it a source of profit to herself. Towards night, her friend, the confidential servant of Chazeul, called her to his master's chamber, and she remained with him in close conference for more than half an hour. When she came out, notwithstanding the obtuseness of her mind, and the air of still greater dulness which she somewhat affected, it was evident that the girl was a good deal agitated and even alarmed. She went back with a hasty step to the room in which she slept, stopped for a moment in the middle of the floor, then turned and went out again and knocked at the door of the priest's room, which, as we have before shown, was adjacent to that of her mistress. There was no answer; and, hurrying down, she asked some of the servants whom she met below, if they could tell her where Monsieur de la Tremblade was to be found.

One replied that he was in his own chamber; but another exclaimed, before Blanchette could tell the first that he was mistaken, "No, no, Ma'mselle Blanchette, he is in the chapel," and the girl hurried thither at once. Crossing herself with holy water from the bénitier at the door, and making due genuflexions as she advanced, Blanchette approached the altar, gazing with a look of distaste, and even fear, at the bier of the old commander as she passed.

The priest was just concluding some one of the many services of the Roman Catholic Church; and the girl waited till the last words died away upon his lips, and then with lowly reverence drew nigh.

"What is it, Blanchette?" said Monsieur de la Tremblade; "you seem alarmed and in haste."

"I want to know what I am to do, father," said Blanchette in a low tone. "I am sure I do not know, whether I ought to consent to what Monsieur de Chazeul wishes or not."

"Hush," said the priest. "Come into the confessional;" and, placing himself within the old oak screen, he bent down his head, while Blanchette kneeling on the other side of the partition, poured, through the aperture, her tale into his ear.

The priest listened without surprise, as she told him that Monsieur de Chazeul had required that admission should be given him to her mistress's chamber, at an hour after midnight. "He assured me," the girl said, "that it is with Mademoiselle d'Albret's consent, but that she did not like to mention it to me; and he added, that I was not to speak of it to her."

"That was not right, for, I believe, it is not true," replied the priest. "But what you have to do, is to ask Madame de Chazeul, and follow her directions."

"Oh, if I am to do that," cried the girl, "she bade me already do everything that Monsieur de Chazeul told me; but I thought it right to come and ask you, father, that I might be quite sure of what I was about."

The priest paused and hesitated; but, after several minutes' thought, he replied, "I know not the circumstances, my daughter.--Doubtless Monsieur de Chazeul has no evil intentions." And thus saying, he rose and quitted the confessional, leaving Blanchette to draw her own deductions and follow her own course.

The girl paused and pondered thoughtfully for several moments; then shrugging her shoulders, she murmured with a low laugh, "Well, if he sees no harm in it, what business is it of mine?" and, with this comfortable reflection, she returned slowly to the château.