Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XXXIX.

When Madame de Chazeul entered the bed-room, she found the two maids busily engaged in ornamenting a dress, which she had ordered them to prepare against the marriage. It mingled, in a somewhat strange manner, the colours of mourning and rejoicing; and the two girls were tittering at some observations made by the page, who stood looking over their work, and who had just said, "Why, if Madam put on that, she will look like an old magpie." The boy's face was perfectly grave, but the maids could not recover a demure look quite so easily; and Madame de Chazeul, who was herself in deep and stern thoughts, gave them a fierce glance, saying, "What are the fools laughing at? Go both of you into the ante-room and let one tell the girl Blanchette to come to me; and you, Philip, run down to the kitchen, and fetch me two basins of soup. I am hungry," she added in a tone that she intended him to remark; "and that poor girl must have some food too."

The boy hastened to obey, and the maid went to call Blanchette: but the Countess remaining in her own chamber, opened a little bonbonnière which she carried, and shook out a small quantity of a white powder into a piece of paper, which she folded up carefully, but not indeed completely, for one end was left open. This packet she concealed between her first and second finger; and then, leaning her head upon her hand, she meditated for a moment or two, turning her own dark schemes in her mind, with some doubts and misgivings as to how she should carry the next step she purposed to take, into execution.

"If I carry it to her myself," she thought, "she will doubt something, and will not drink it. I'll send it by the maid Blanchette.--Yet, perhaps, if she knows that it comes from me, the same suspicions may arise: and I doubt that girl too. She has given me black looks and saucy answers. No--I had better take it myself: or, stay--I will send it by the page. He was always fond of her; and a light, thoughtless boy like that, one can make say what one will. He will suspect nothing, and the girl will not doubt him. Martin I dare not trust, for the fool thinks his conscience sufficiently burdened already with the imprisonment of the priest. He would not be so easily taken in either, to believe that I had any very tender consideration for the hunger of Helen de la Tremblade, any more than those two wenches in the ante-room. All my people know too much--I must get some new ones; and, if I can breed up this boy in perfect obedience, he may prove useful hereafter."

As she was going on with these pleasant meditations, the girl Blanchette presented herself and Madame de Chazeul, turning towards her, asked in a calm and complaisant tone, "How long has Mademoiselle de la Tremblade been here, Blanchette?"

"Really, Madam, I do not know," answered the maid; "I was not aware that she was here at all, till I found her with you and Mademoiselle d'Albret."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Madame de Chazeul with an air of surprise; "I thought you had known all about it."

"Not I, Madam," said Blanchette; "but she can't have been there long, or I could not have helped knowing. I think she must have come last night, for I saw the door of the priest's room open just before sunset, and I looked in. There was nobody there then: and I am sure nobody slept in the room the night before; for he was in the chapel all night himself, and the bed was untouched in the morning."

Before Madame de Chazeul could make any further observation, the page entered the room, bearing the two basins of soup which he had been commanded to bring; and his mistress ordered him to set them down on the table before her, and retire. The boy did as she bade him, but remained in the ante-room; and the Marchioness proceeded to talk farther with Blanchette, changing the subject of her conversation, however, to the approaching wedding, and the preparations for it, which were necessary.

"You will not have much time, Blanchette," she said; "but still, you must try to make your mistress's wedding dress look as gay as possible."

"I will do the best I can, Madam," replied Blanchette; "but I doubt very much whether she will put it on."

"Oh, nonsense," cried Madame de Chazeul. "She knows that Monsieur de Liancourt has sworn that she shall marry the Marquis before noon to-day; and she does not doubt that he will keep his word. She must, therefore, have made up her mind to it by this time; and I dare say we shall hear no more objections."

Blanchette shook her head, saying, "I think you will, Madam, as many as ever."

"Well, then," exclaimed Madame de Chazeul, "force must be used; that's all, for my brother will not break his oath for the whims of any girl in Europe. Fetch me that mantle, Blanchette," she continued, "that one which hangs by the wall there," and she pointed to a spot at the other side of the room, where a cloak was hanging from a hook on the wall. The direction was such that Blanchette, in going thither, must turn her back to the table at which the Marchioness was seated. The girl walked straight across to the spot, seemingly gazing at the crimson silk mantle before her, but as she did so, she turned her eyes quietly towards a small mirror that hung exactly opposite the fire-place. At first it presented nothing to her view, but the wide open hearth, and the curiously carved dogs, with some large pieces of wood burning upon them. The next moment, however, her own figure crossing was reflected from the glass, and then was seen, as the angle became greater, the form of Madame de Chazeul, seated at the table with the two basins of soup before her and with her right hand raised above one of them. She was shaking in the powder which she held wrapt up in the paper between her fingers; and Blanchette saw clearly the white substance fall into the liquid. She took no notice, however; but in order to give the Marchioness full time for what she was about, she affected to have some difficulty in unfastening the garment she was sent to fetch from the peg.

Madame de Chazeul turned round the next moment saying, "Untie the string, untie the string! How clumsy you are!"

Following her directions, Blanchette easily got down the mantle and returned with it to the lady's side, who began a long unnecessary explanation as to how certain knots of riband were to be placed on Mademoiselle d'Albret's dress, and Blanchette took out her scissors to unfasten one of those from the cloak, in order that she might see exactly how it was done,--affecting, to say the truth, a greater degree of stupidity than was natural to her.

"There that will do," said Madame de Chazeul; "you must understand it now. Oh, I forgot," she added aloud, "I must send something to Mademoiselle de la Tremblade. She has had no breakfast, I suppose? Here, Philip!"

The boy did not appear, and Blanchette still continued to fumble at the bow upon the mantle, without offering to call the page.

There was a good deal of tremor in the Marchioness's manner: she was agitated: her voice shook when she called; and at length rising, she went to the door to give her orders to the boy. He was not there, however; and the only person in the room was one of her women seated near the farther window, whom she directed in quick and eager words to call the page directly.

The whole of this proceeding occupied not a minute and a half; but the moment that the Marchioness's back was turned, Blanchette with dexterous rapidity, took the mantle between her teeth, and, employing both hands, changed the relative positions of the two basins of soup, but was busy at the knot again, with a dull face and a heavy unmeaning eye, before Madame de Chazeul turned round. Not the slightest sound had she made; and it was only a gentle undulation of the liquid in the two cups which could have betrayed to any eye that they had been moved. That, however, had nearly subsided before the Marchioness returned to the table, and Blanchette soon received her dismissal, with injunctions to make haste with what she had to do.

Scarcely was the girl gone when the boy Philip entered the room, and Madame de Chazeul asked sharply, "Where have you been, Sir?"

"I went to get some breakfast, Madam," replied the boy, "for I was very hungry, having ridden all night."

"There may be other people hungry as well as you are, young glutton," said the Marchioness; "however, here's a task for you, that I am sure you will like. Do you know that Mademoiselle Helen is here?"

"No," cried the page with well-feigned astonishment; "is she, indeed? Oh, I am so glad; and I am sure I hope you will forgive her, Madam, for she is so good and so kind."

"Not yet," replied the Marchioness in a significant tone; "but I may soon. In the mean time, I must not let her, for the world, know that I take any interest in her; for she is locked into her room, and must remain there till I think she is punished sufficiently. However, she must not be without food, so carry her this basin of soup, as if you had brought it for her yourself, without letting her know that I sent it. She will take it kind of you; but you must not stop a minute with her, and be sure to lock the door and bring me the key again directly. If you were to let her get out, I would have you flayed alive."

"I will take care, that shall not be the case," replied the boy; and, stretching out his hands, either from some suspicion or by accident, he was about to lift the basin farthest from him, when Madame de Chazeul thrust back his arm hastily, and laying her finger on the other, exclaimed, "This, I told you, this. Don't you see I have taken some of the other?"

The boy could not perceive that there was any difference in quantity between the two; but the quick eagerness with which Madame de Chazeul spoke, would have created doubts in his mind if there had been none there before; and he determined at once, to warn Helen against touching any food but that which he himself procured for her.

Madame de Chazeul then gave him the key; but she exacted a promise from him, that he would lock the door with it, and bring it back without suffering Helen to go out. "If she should try to master you, and be too strong for you," said the Marchioness in a low voice, "use your dagger."

"Oh! Madam," cried the boy with a look of horror.

"I mean, but to frighten her," replied Madame de Chazeul, "and at all events call out loudly should such be the case. I will place some one within hearing."

Carrying the soup in his hand, the page then left the room; and, descending that flight of stairs, he passed through the passage below, and ascended the others towards the priest's room. If Madame de Chazeul had reflected upon all the circumstances, she would have perceived that the boy was not altogether sincere with her; for he had affected not to know that Helen was in the château; and yet, without her ever telling him in what room the unhappy girl was confined, he went away towards it directly. But the truth is, that, as usual, the whole events of the morning had been talked over amongst the servants in the hall; and he had heard the fact of Helen's appearance, and where she was to be found.

The first sound of his step upon the stairs brought out Blanchette from the neighbouring room. Her face was as pale as ashes, and her limbs trembled, but she stopped the boy at the top of the stairs, asking in a whisper, "Which of the two basins is that? The one on the right or the other on the left?"

"The one on the right," replied the boy. "I am taking it to Mademoiselle Helen. Do you know anything about it? You look very white!"

Blanchette still held his arm, though she murmured, "That is right. Well, however," she continued, as if speaking to herself, "it will be better to be quite safe. Tell her not to take the soup, Philip; let her throw it away; and you find means to give her food that you know is--is--is wholesome."

"How?" demanded the boy. "How is that to be done?"

"Throw a ball of twine into the window from below," replied the girl. "Then while they are all at the wedding, you can tie a basket to it, and let her pull it up."

"Thank you, Blanchette," replied the boy with a nod, "I will do so. But hark, I hear steps along the passage below; I must go on."

Blanchette instantly disappeared; and the boy, unlocking the door of the priest's room, went in. He found Helen de la Tremblade gazing eagerly towards him from the other side of the room, with a look of terror in her eyes, like that of the wounded bird when approached by the retriever. It was changed instantly to joy, however, when she saw the boy, and she ran forward a few steps to meet him. But then the poor girl stopped, and shook her head sadly, exclaiming, "Ah, Philip, you should not have come. You do not know to what you expose yourself. That woman will never forgive any one who shows a kindness to poor Helen de la Tremblade."

"I know she will not, Ma'am'selle Helen," answered the page, setting down the soup upon the table and kissing her hand; "but she sent me to bring you that. But I have much to say to you, and am afraid to stay more than a minute; and I have promised to lock the door too, and take back the key."

"Oh, let me out, Philip! let me out!" exclaimed Helen clasping her hands.

"I cannot! I cannot! even if I had not given my word," cried the boy.

"If I could but see my uncle for one minute," urged Helen, "it might save many from destruction."

"Impossible now, dear lady," replied Philip, "there are her men at the bottom of the stairs. Your uncle too is confined below--so I have gathered from the talk of Martin and the rest; and I pledged my word also, when she gave me the key; but I did not pledge my word not to contrive to free you afterwards. So listen to me, and I will do it."

"Well, speak, speak," said Helen; "what have you to say? I know you are a good kind boy, and wish me well."

"I would give my life to serve you," replied the page. "First, you must not touch that soup. It is poisoned."

Helen shrunk back in horror, exclaiming, "Oh! wretched woman!"

"Next," continued Philip, "here is my dagger. It may be useful to you in case of need; and besides," he added, significantly, "the locks are all on the inside. The blade of the dagger would soon force them back. But do not try it yet, for you will find people in every corner. In half an hour the marriage contract is to be signed--"

"She will never sign it!" cried Helen vehemently. "She will never, never sign it."

"They will use force," answered the boy; "but at all events they will drag her to the hall, and to the chapel. If I can, I will come under your window the moment they are all in the hall. Look out and speak to me; but if I do not come within three minutes after you hear all quiet in the next room, you can open the door easily with the dagger, and get out. Your uncle is in the room on the left at the foot of the great staircase--the little room with the low door. I am sure he is there, for I have seen Martin and René go in there twice to-day. But, if I can, I will fetch the key of his room, and--Hark! Was that some one calling?"

"No, no!" cried Helen; "go on, go on Philip."

"And then when I come under the window," continued the boy, "I will bring it with a basket of provisions, and throw you up a ball of string, with which you can draw them all up, so keep the window wide open that I may cast it in."

"Oh good, dear boy!" cried Helen.

"I met your friend, Monsieur Estoc," said the page, "this morning, as I was coming back from Chazeul; and I promised him that I would do whatever you or father Walter told me, if it cost me my life. So, you think, dear lady, what I am to do, till you see me under the window, and then tell me quickly, and I will do it, upon my honour."

As he spoke he retreated towards the door; and while opening it, he said, pointing to the soup, "Mind you do not touch it! I was to tell you that I brought it for you myself, out of kindness. They will perhaps want me to do other such deeds; but I cannot, and I will not for any one!"

The last few words were spoken vehemently, with the door open in his hand; and when he had uttered them, he went out, closed, and locked it. Then turning round to descend the stairs, he beheld Madame de Chazeul standing a few steps down, with one of her men a little behind her. The boy's heart sunk, fearing she might have heard too much; but it had happened otherwise. All that had caught her ear was, "I cannot, and will not for any one;" and as he approached she asked, "What was it she wanted you to do, Philip?"

"To let her out," replied the boy readily.

Madame de Chazeul put her hand approvingly upon his shoulder, saying, "You are a good lad--an excellent lad! That is the way I love to be served; and if you behave so, you shall have more advancement than you think of. There's a gold crown for you, Philip.--Did she take the soup?"

"No," answered the page; "and I do not think she will till she is very hungry; for she seemed afraid of something."

"Then she shall be hungry enough," muttered Madame de Chazeul. "But come, Philip, give me the key."

The boy delivered it unwillingly, and his mistress proceeded, "Now run, wash your face and hands, and put on your gay satin pourpoint as quick as may be; for the marriage is to take place in ten minutes, and I shall want all my people with me in the hall."

Philip thought to himself, "I will contrive to slip away, however," and proceeded to his own chamber, while Madame de Chazeul retired to put the key by, and then sought her brother the Count, to speak with him once more before the last trial of his resolution with Rose d'Albret.

The Count was in a different frame of mind, however, from that in which his sister expected to find him. He had employed the time during her absence in working himself up to the necessary pitch of determination, and had, as is not uncommon, gone even beyond the point. He talked loud and high of the privileges and power of guardians, and spoke angrily of those who ventured to oppose them.

"I have always understood, Jacqueline," he said, in a sharp tone, as if the Marchioness herself had been one of those who sought to prevent him from exercising his proper authority, "I have always understood, that a guardian stands exactly in the position of a parent; and who ever heard of a daughter daring to object to the man whom her father has chosen for her?"

"Never that I have heard of," replied Madame de Chazeul; "nor of a ward objecting either, when her guardian has provided for her a suitable alliance."

"Never! never!" cried the Count vehemently. "I have suffered myself to be set at nought by this girl too long, Jacqueline; and I will do it no longer. Even if I had not sworn as I have. I would not suffer this to go on another hour. The notary has arrived, and the contract is drawn up correctly, except the names.--I will go to her at once.--I have seen Chazeul, too, and spoken to him seriously on his conduct."

"What did he say?" demanded the Marchioness, with an eager look. "He was penitent, I am sure."

"Yes," replied the Count. "I have nothing to find fault with in his demeanour. He expressed his sorrow for what he had done, assured me that he had never considered it in the light of an insult to me, and that he had no bad intentions at all; but merely wished to speak to Rose in private for a short time, to persuade her to yield calmly to all our wishes this day, as he had every reason to believe, that her inclinations were really not opposed to him, and he knew that, if she did attempt to resist, it would give me pain."

"Persuasions are all in vain, my dear brother," said Madame de Chazeul; "when a woman's vanity is engaged in a particular course, you may argue till you expire without moving her. Firmness is the only thing under such circumstances, and she will at her heart feel obliged to you for forcing her to that, which she does not choose to admit that she wishes. If I were you, I would neither attempt to use any solicitations, nor listen to any replies, but assume at once the tone of authority. Tell her that she must submit, and that you will not suffer her to say one word, in regard to your right of disposing of her hand as you think fit."

"Such is the course I intend to pursue," answered Monsieur de Liancourt. "She has offended me enough by resisting my commands; and, indeed, I do not propose to suffer anything further to be said upon the subject. If she will not sign, I will put the pen in her hand, and guide it by force over the paper. If she says 'no' at the altar, I will say 'yes' for her. I will not be thwarted and conquered by the obstinacy of my own ward, in my own château."

"Well then, go to her, Anthony," cried the Marchioness, who knew well that, as long as this mood lasted, all was secure, and that any opposition on the part of Rose would but drive him to violence, though she had seen such fits in full force in the morning, and pass away before nightfall. "I will wait for you in the hall," she added, "and we will have as many of the people gathered together as possible, to overawe her by the crowd."

"Few or many, it will be the same to me," replied the Count; "but yet, the more the better; for I am quite firm and resolute, and am sure that I have every right to do as I am doing. Therefore there cannot be too many witnesses, and I care not who they may be. They shall see me act the part that becomes me, without the slightest wavering or hesitation, for there is nothing so contemptible as a man who suffers himself to be influenced by a little resistance to his authority.--Now, Jacqueline, let us proceed, for the sooner it is done, the less painful will it be:" and thus saying he led the Marchioness from the room.

She was now satisfied; for a few hours she could calculate upon her brother's firmness; all those whom she feared were in her power; and the moment of her triumph seemed at hand.