Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XXVII.

As nature in the colours with which her beautifying hand has adorned the creation, for the glory of God, and the delight of his creatures, has far excelled in richness, and brightness, and variety of hues, all that the art of man can produce, merely leaving to his vain efforts the task of falsely imitating her; so does she, in the real course of events, far exceed in the marvellous and extraordinary, anything that imagination can conceive. The boundless springs of human passions and prejudices; the endless variety of human character; the infinite combinations which man and circumstances may afford, are every day offering more wonderful and striking scenes than the boldest poet would venture to display. There is not a house in the land but has its tragedy to tell; there is not a chamber that has not been stained by bitter and passionate tears; there is hardly one human heart that has not within itself its own tale of romance. But as it is the object of this history, but to depict events very ordinary in the days to which it relates--and as it is, indeed, the object of its author in all his works, to keep to calm and quiet probabilities, in order, if possible, to cure his fellow countrymen of that longing for over excitement, that moral gin-drinking which has become a vice amongst us, and teach them that there may be both pleasure and health in less stimulating beverages; he is anxious to explain every event as it took place, and to leave nothing to the charge of the marvellous.

The reader has already inquired, how happened it, that Helen de la Tremblade, after taking the firm resolution of doing that which, though bitterly painful to her own feelings, she considered a duty to those who had shown her kindness and tenderness in her moment of distress, did not present herself before her uncle, on the first night of his solitary watching by the corpse of the old commander, De Liancourt;--and, had I been reading the work, instead of writing it, I should have asked the same question too. The answer is very simple, but it requires some detail.

On the day following the battle of Ivry, hasty preparations were made for conveying the body of the dead leader to Marzay. All those sad and solemn preparations which are required by custom in consigning the mortal dust to the earth from which it came: the coffin, the bier, and the shroud, were to be made ready; and, whatever diligence was employed, it was known that all this could not be complete before evening. The soldiers who had followed the old leader to the field, determined to take their turns in carrying him back to his last home; and Helen, as has been said, resolved to accompany them; but still, during the day, she showed some signs, as it seemed to Estoc, of irresolution and doubt, and the good old warrior determined to speak a word to her, for the purpose of removing her hesitation. She had not quitted for more than a few brief moments the chamber of the dead man, and the attachment which she displayed to even the inanimate remains of his dead friend, deeply touched the heart of one who, for years, had evinced towards the good old knight, that strong and pertinacious love, so often found in the one-affectioned dog, so rarely in many-motived man. Even had he not promised, he would still have been a father to the poor girl, on account of her devotion to one who had been a father to him; and, as he entered the chamber where she sat, he strove to smooth his somewhat rough tone, in order to speak to her tenderly.

"Come, young lady," he said, "you had better really go into the hall and take some refreshment. We must all die, old and young; and, as the gamblers say, every year that goes makes the odds stronger against us; so there is no use sitting here, pining by yourself, and I hope we shall be able to march in a couple of hours."

"So soon!" asked Helen.

"Ay," answered Estoc, "the sooner it is all over, the better, my dear. I know it is painful to you to fulfil your promise, but I don't think you will shrink from it."

"Oh! it is not that," cried Helen de la Tremblade; "my mind is made up; and if it kill me, I will do it. But I did not want to go just yet, for the first person who was kind to me, and took compassion upon me, promised to come or send after the battle was over. He will think me ungrateful if I go, without waiting to see him; and yet who can tell whether he be dead or alive? I am sure he is not a man to shrink from any danger, but rather to seek it; for the kindest-hearted are always the bravest."

"That's very true," exclaimed Estoc. "I have marked that through a struggle of fifty-four years with this good world.--But what is his name, young lady? We have had accounts this morning of all the great men killed and the wounded; so I can tell you if he be amongst them."

"Oh, he is a man of no great rank," answered Helen. "A very poor French gentleman, he told me: his name is Chasseron."

"Oh, he is quite safe and well," answered Estoc, with a smile; "I know him a little, too. But Monsieur de Chasseron is a very busy man, and has many things upon his hands, just now. He is at Mantes with the King, or at Rosni, some say. I wish to heaven I could see him myself," he continued, "for I think if he heard that Monsieur de Montigni and Mademoiselle Rose had been taken by the enemy, he might give us some help."

"Can I not go to him at Mantes?" cried Helen; "I could tell him all, and be back very soon."

Estoc paused, and thought. "Not before we set out," he replied. "It's along way to Mantes, my dear. If you do, you must join us by the way. But how am I to get you thither, and back again?"

"Oh, I am a poor friendless creature," cried Helen de la Tremblade, "it matters not what becomes of me. I do not think any one would injure me, but that cruel woman; and she is far away."

"No, you are not friendless," exclaimed Estoc warmly; "and never shall be while I live. No, I cannot let you go alone; but I can send two of my old fellows with you, who will take care that no one does you wrong. Perhaps there may be some bands too going down, and if I could find any stout old leader whom I know, he would take care of you. I will go up to the village and see; for it would be a great thing, indeed, if you could let Monsieur de Chasseron know all that has happened.--He might help us--he might help us, though I don't know if he has the power."

"I am sure he will if he can," cried Helen; "for he has a kind and generous heart, as I have good cause to say."

"Well, I will go, I will go," replied Estoc. "At all events, you shall have two men to go with you. Old Jaunaye and Longeau, they shall be the men. They are of the good old stuff, out of which we used to make soldiers in my young days; none of the coxcombs that we have at present. But, you get ready to go, and I will be back in half an hour. My horse is saddled at the door."

Thus saying, he departed, and, in less time than he had mentioned, returned, with an eager air, exclaiming, "Quick, quick, Mademoiselle Helen; here is the band of the old Count de Ligones, just marching this moment, and you can easily come up with them. I saw him and told him, and he says he will take care of you. But you shall have Jaunaye and the Longeau, to bring you across to us to-morrow. You can easily catch us up, either at Tremblaye, or Châteauneuf, for we must needs go slow. The men are ready."

"And so am I," answered Helen, "but how am I to find Monsieur de Chasseron in all the bustle and confusion of the court?"

"True," said Estoc, thoughtfully; "you may have some trouble. I will tell you what," he continued; "here, write down upon a piece of paper the gentleman's name, and send it into Monsieur de Biron. He is an old friend of Chasseron's, I think, and will bring him to you."

Pen and ink were soon procured, the name written down, and Helen de la Tremblade covering herself with the thick veil which Rose d'Albret had left behind--for she herself had been driven forth all unprepared--went out, and with the assistance of Estoc, mounted a pillion behind one of the men. After riding for about three miles, they overtook the band of the Count de Ligones, an old soldier of near seventy years of age. He was hearty and gay, however, and would fain have entertained his fair companion for the rest of the way, with many a jest, and many a tale; but Helen, as the reader may suppose, remained grave and sad, answering his questions by a monosyllable, and listening to his jokes without reply.

"You seem very silent, Mademoiselle," said the old gentleman, at length; "I am afraid some misfortune has happened to you."

"I have lost a kind and generous friend in this last battle," cried Helen de la Tremblade, "and have no heart to speak."

"Ah! poor thing," said the old man. "You are not a soldier to bear these things lightly. We learn to weep for a friend one half hour, and to laugh the next. When a man holds life by the tenure of a straw, he soon gets to look upon the loss of it by others, as a matter of little moment. Yet here I am, have reached seventy years of age, and have been in twelve stricken battles, with at least a skirmish every week for this last thirty years, and never got but one scratch upon the face: yet I have seen many a blooming boy swept away in his very first fight."

Thus he continued talking on, during the whole way, till they reached the woods, which, at that time, skirted the banks of the Seine; and, giving his men orders to halt at one of the neighbouring villages, he rode on with Helen and her two companions, followed by a small party of his own attendants, towards the Château of Rosni, in which they found that the King had taken up his abode.

It was the bustle of a camp, rather than that of a court, that Helen now found. Tents were pitched in the meadows; baggage-waggons encumbered the ground, bodies of soldiers were moving here and there, and parties of armed men with their steel caps laid aside, were seen supping on the damp ground under the trees, by the light of the fires which they kindled to keep off the exhalations of the night, now drawing in around them. The great doors of the château were wide open, the hall filled with people, and though the Count de Ligones acted as her spokesman, and inquired of several whom they met, if they could tell where Monsieur de Chasseron was to be found, whether in the château, or in the village, she could get no satisfactory answer of any kind; and, indeed, so busy did every one seem with his own thoughts, or his own business, that very often no reply was returned at all.

As every one seemed at liberty to come and go, however, the old Count, more accustomed to such scenes than she, led her up the great staircase into the corridor at the top. But, as they were turning to the right, more at a venture than by choice, a guard placed himself before them, saying,--"You cannot pass, Sir, without an order. These are the King's apartments."

"Call a valet or an equerry," said Monsieur de Ligones.

The man obeyed; and, in a moment after, out came a tall good-looking man, in military attire, who exclaimed at once, "Ah! Ligones, is that you? You are to quarter your men at the farther end of the village. There are two houses marked for you; but, good faith, you must make them sleep as close as pigs in a sty. We only give them house room at all, because we know that there is not a man under seventy amongst them, and so take care of their old bones."

"Thanks, Aubigné, thanks," replied the Count; "but I want to see the King, and--"

"You cannot see him just now," answered Aubigné, "for he has got D' O and other vermin with him, and has for once lost his patience. I heard him swearing like a Reiter, with all the language of Babylon come back upon him in full force. I believe he will frighten them into disgorging something; but whether or not sufficient to carry us to Paris, I doubt. However, if you will wait half an hour, the fit of blasphemy and finance, will have left him. May I ask what are your commands, Madam? If your business be with the King, I must report it; for he is always much more accessible to ladies than to gentlemen."

"No, Sir," said Helen, "I have not the honour of knowing his Majesty; but I would fain speak for a moment with Monsieur de Chasseron."

"He is not here, that I know of," replied Aubigné. "I have not seen him for some time."

"If you would give that paper to Marshal Biron," answered the young lady, "and ask him to condescend to put down where Monsieur de Chasseron is to be found, you would greatly oblige me."

"That I will do with pleasure," replied the equerry. "Let this lady and gentleman pass," he continued, speaking to the guard; and then adding, "I will keep you in the passage for a moment," he left them, entering a room at the very farther end of the corridor. Within that was another chamber, the door of which Aubigné opened gently; and then stretching in his hand to a gentleman who sat nearest the end of a long table, surrounded by a number of persons, he gave him the paper he had received, saying, "Will you have the goodness to hand that up to Monsieur de Biron, and ask him to put down for a young lady who waits without, where that gentleman is to be found. You may tell the King, if you like," he added, in a whisper; "that she is prodigiously handsome."

He paused a moment, while the paper passed from hand to hand. Some who received it, smiled; some passed it on in silence; but Henri Quatre who sat at the head of the table, remarked what was taking place, and exclaimed, "What is that?--What have you got there? Pardi, send it up."

The command was immediately obeyed; and, at the same moment, Henri nodding his head to Aubigné a little gravely, as if to reprove him for the curiosity he seemed to evince, said, "You may go, companion."

The equerry retreated, and closed the door, without, however, quitting the adjacent room; and Helen and Monsieur de Ligones remained standing in the corridor for nearly a quarter of an hour, while numerous attendants and officers passed them every minute. At the end of that time, Aubigné again appeared; and, after informing the Count that he could now speak with the King if he would go into the room at the end of the passage, he turned to Helen, saying, "Follow me, Mademoiselle. Monsieur de Chasseron is expected very soon; and you can wait for him."

Helen thanked the old Count warmly for his courteous protection on the road, and then prepared to accompany Aubigné; but Monsieur de Ligones whispered with kind intentions in her ear, "I will tell your two men to wait for you in the hall; and, as soon as your conference is over, you had better ride away to Rolleboise or Bonnières, for this is not the best place for a young creature like you. There are too many men here, and too few women."

The blood came up into the poor girl's face; but she understood that the old nobleman's meaning was good, and replying, "I will!" she followed her conductor to a small cabinet but scantily furnished, where Aubigné left her, and closed the door.

Seating herself by the table, Helen remained in anxious meditation for more than half an hour, at the end of which time a number of steps were heard in the corridor, and a tall stout man opened the door and looked in. He withdrew again, immediately; and some ten minutes more passed without anything occurring to disturb her reverie. Then, however, the door again opened; and, to her infinite satisfaction, the figure of Chasseron himself, in his worn doublet and heavy boots, appeared, turning round his bead as he entered, and saying to some one without, "Wait, here! I will return directly."

Helen sprang up to meet him with that look of gladness and confidence, which is hard to resist; and, taking her hand, he exclaimed with a good-humoured smile, "Ah! my little protégée!--Now, I warrant you thought the grey beard had forgotten you; but such was not the case, and you must have passed one of my men on the road. I have been so busy I could not send before. But every one who cares for poor King Henry, must be busy now; for no sooner does he gain one advantage than his own people help the enemy to deprive him of the fruits of it. Well, what news from St. André? Were the people with whom I left you kind?"

"Oh! most kind," answered Helen de la Tremblade; "Mademoiselle d'Albret is an old and generous friend--better alas! than I deserve; but it is for her sake I have come hither, not my own."

"Ha! How is that?" asked Chasseron; "has anything happened? Are they not married?--Pardi. I thought they would lose no time. Yet I saw the young Baron in the field. He may have been wounded? He is not in the list of killed."

He spoke so rapidly, that Helen had not time to answer anything he said, before something new was uttered. When he paused, however, she replied, "No! Oh, no! He is not killed; but he is a prisoner which is--or may be worse."

"Parbleu! that is unfortunate!" cried her companion. "He was one of those, I suppose, who ventured too rashly forward in the town of Ivry. Yet I saw him not there; and I was not far behind myself."

"It was not there he was taken," answered Helen; and, as briefly as possible--for she saw that Chasseron, though wishing to show her every kindness, was in haste--she recapitulated all that had occurred on the banks of Eure, since she had been placed in the farm-house.

The stout soldier shut his teeth, which were as white as snow, upon his grizzled moustache; and then murmured, "They are unlucky folks! Poor things! To Chartres, did you say? Ventre Saint Gris! something must be done for them.--Well, well, that may be set to rights."

These words seemed more the out-pourings of what was passing in his own mind, than addressed to his fair companion; but the moment after, he turned to her, saying, "I have some small influence here; and I will not fail to use it for Monsieur de Montigni. He once came to my aid, fair lady, when life or death hung upon the event of a moment. He has since served the King to the best of his ability, and the King should show himself grateful. Doubtless he will, and he shall not fail to know the facts. Then it will not be impossible to exchange, against Monsieur de Montigni, some prisoner in his hands."

"But they fear the Duke of Nemours will send back Mademoiselle d'Albret to Marzay," said Helen; "and then--and then--"

"What then?" asked Chasseron, quickly. "Oh! I see," he continued; "They will force her into a wedding with Nicholas de Chazeul; as dishonest a rogue as ever used the pretence of religion to cover base designs. He shall not have her!--Pardi, he shall not have her if I have any say in the matter."

Helen turned pale, and trembled, but she replied not; and her companion added, after a moment's thought, "Well! that shall be cared for, too, as far as I am able.--What was it you said about our good old friend the Commander? Dead, did you say? Why, he fell not on the field!"

"No," answered Helen in a subdued tone, "He died last night of his wounds."

"God have his soul in guard!" cried the stout soldier. "He was a good old man!--But now, my poor young lady, to tell truth--though I am right glad to see you--yet your coming puzzles me not a little. I know not what to do with you here. They say, pity is akin to love, but--" He saw that Helen's cheek turned pale; and, he added quickly, "Nay, do not fear; There's honour amongst thieves; and I am not one to take advantage of misfortune--What I would say is simply, that I know not how or where to lodge you here in honesty or safety. Then, too, where the King goes I must go; and--"

"Nay, Sir," replied Helen, "Do not embarrass yourself, for me or my fate. Deeply grateful am I for kindness to one who, when you found me, was outcast, hopeless, and unfriended; but I am now no longer without protection and support. Good Monsieur Estoc, whom I think you know, sent me hither to tell you all that had occurred, hoping that your influence with the King, or his ministers, might enable you to aid Monsieur de Montigni and Mademoiselle d'Albret; but Monsieur Estoc will protect me. He has promised to do so, and I am sure he will perform it."

"Ay, good faith, that he will!" answered Chasseron, "and it is better that he should than that I should. As to influence, Heaven knows, the King, good man, can rarely be got to do what he ought; and, with his ministers, I have none, alas! But what I can do, I will; and, in the mean time, tell old Estoc, that you have seen Chasseron; and mayhap he will be with him, with a score of lances, for a day's sport. Let him give me speedy news of what is going on. I am here for a day or two, it seems, and cannot get away, for my movements depend on greater men than myself.--But to return to your own business--What do you do next?"

"To-morrow I am to join Monsieur Estoc," replied Helen, "and go with him to Marzay. They think," she added in a hesitating tone, "that I maybe of service there to Mademoiselle d'Albret. To-night I propose to go with the two men who came with me, to Rolleboise or Bonnières."

"Right! right!" replied Chasseron; "yet they are full of our people.--Well, I will send some one with you, to secure you protection.--And now," he continued in a lower and a gentler tone, "when I first found you, I think you were but poorly supplied with that, to which we are all, both great and small, obliged to bow our heads, though it be an idol: I mean money. I am, it is true, very poor; but--"

Helen waved her hand, bending her eyes to the ground, and colouring deeply. Why she did so, the reader must ask of his own heart; but, as her companion spoke, the words he had just before used, that "pity is akin to love," rung in her ears again.

"I have enough," she said, "more than enough, thanks to the generosity of poor Monsieur de Liancourt. Accept, Sir, my deepest, my most heartfelt thanks. Had it not been for you, I should not have been, at this hour, alive; and now I will keep you no longer, for I know you are in haste."

"Yet stay a moment," said Chasseron. "I must send some one with you. He shall be here directly. Now farewell."

He gazed on her for a moment--seemed to hesitate; and then, taking her hand in his, raised it to his lips, kissed it, not warmly, though tenderly, and, repeating the word "Farewell," turned to the door. When his fingers were upon the latch, however, he looked round saying, "Wait till somebody comes from me--He shall not be long;" and then, opening the door, he left her once more alone.

Ere ten minutes were over, Helen was joined by an elderly man, in a riding dress, who bowing low, said, "I have come from Monsieur de Chasseron, Mademoiselle, and am to accompany you to Rolleboise."

Helen expressed her readiness to set out; and following her new guide through the corridor and down the stairs, found the two old soldiers who had accompanied her, waiting with some impatience and anxiety in the hall. The whole party were soon on horseback; and, riding slowly through the darkness, with the bright Seine glistening on their right, reached Rolleboise in about three quarters of an hour. The little inn, however, which, at that time, stood wedged in between the high banks and the river, was filled to the doors; but at Bonnières, about two miles farther, they found all quiet and tranquil; and the accommodation which they wanted, was easily procured. Helen retired to rest at once; and rising early the next morning to pursue her way, found the man who had guided her from Rosni, waiting to see her depart.

Nothing more occurred on her journey worthy of the reader's attention, and I shall only therefore notice, that, at Châteauneuf, she found that Estoc and the funeral procession of the old Commander had already passed on towards Marzay. She was here obliged again to pause for the night, and did not reach the village of Marzay, which lay at the distance of about half a league from the château, till sunset on the following day. She found Estoc waiting her arrival, full of anxiety on many accounts; for some communication had naturally established itself, between the people of the château and their old companions, and many of the events which have been recorded in the preceding pages had become known to the old soldier.

The news she brought him of her interview with Chasseron seemed to interest him much. Its first effect, however, was to throw him into a fit of meditation, and he made little or no comment, but by the words, "He can do it if he will;--and yet I love not this rumour of the boy's death. He is hot and quick; and there may be truth in it, though, I think it is but one of their lies after all."

"Whose death?" cried Helen de la Tremblade, turning as pale as death, "not Monsieur de Montigni's?"

"Ay, so they have spread abroad the report," replied Estoc, "but 'tis a falsehood I believe, to drive poor Rose to do what they want. I trust in heaven she will not believe it."

"And if she does," exclaimed Helen, "she will sooner die than take the fate they offer her. Oh, no! it is one of that terrible woman's frauds. But Rose will never consent."

"I trust not," answered Estoc in a doubtful tone. "But a report has reached me, that they intend to force this marriage upon her to-morrow morning, and our best hope of preventing it lies with you, Mademoiselle Helen."

"I will go directly," said Helen, in a tone wonderfully calm. "I am ready now."

"No, no," replied the old soldier, "not so, my dear; you must wait till all the world's asleep, but your uncle. He watches all night in the chapel. You too have need of rest and refreshment; and an hour before midnight we will set out."

Helen took some food, and then lay down in the cottage, where a chamber had been prepared for her; but sleep visited not her eyelids; and her own thoughts were more wearisome than any corporeal exertion could have been.