Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XXXV.

The moment her son had left her, Madame de Chazeul rose and began to dress herself in haste; but although she grumbled at her sleepy maids for their slowness, and called them by many an unpleasant name, which indeed she was not a little accustomed to shower upon every one who approached her, when her eager impatience prompted; yet the strong spice of coquetry which remained with her, as a relic of former passions, did not suffer her to conclude the arrangement of her dress without the aid of the various cosmetics she was accustomed to employ, and many a touch of that pigment which had obscured the real colour of her skin for years. Thus, from the dawn of day, what between her conversation with Chazeul, and her devotion to the toilet, at least an hour and a half had passed away before she was ready habited, in deep mourning, to appear in the hall of the castle.

"Now, call Martin to me," said the lady as soon as the whole structure was complete; "be quick for once, jade. You will drive me mad this morning, with your idle sloth."

"The boy Philip, Madam, is waiting in the ante-room," replied the soubrette; "would you please to see him first, or Martin?"

"Why, in the name of Satan, did you not tell me he was here?" demanded Madame de Chazeul. "Call him in, hussy."

"He has just come, Madam," said the girl, willing to justify herself; "he put his head in as I went for the wimple."

But the Marchioness did not always confine the punishment of offences to the tongue; and she pushed the girl rudely by the shoulder, exclaiming, "Call him in, I say!"

The maid ran to the door, and shouted, "Philip, Philip! my lady says, come in."

The boy instantly approached with the book in his hand, saying, "Here, Madam, are the Hours. I suppose they are the right ones, for the old woman would get them herself. I should have been back a long while ago, but she kept me waiting in the hall, and--"

Snatching the book from him as he came near, the Marchioness exclaimed, "Hold your tongue, little miscreant. How dare you go for anything without my orders?"

"Why, Madam, you sent me orders to go," replied the page; "at least, father Walter told me so."

"He is a liar, and you are another, I believe," cried the Marchioness, struggling with the clasps, which for a moment or two resisted all her efforts.

"Ah, Mathurine could not open it either," observed the page in a natural tone.

"Did she try?" demanded his mistress turning upon him vehemently.

"Yes, that she did," was his reply, "for at least five minutes; but she could not get it open."

"Perhaps you can do it," said Madame de Chazeul holding out the book to him, and fixing her eye upon his face.

The boy took it, laid down his hat upon the floor, and laboured to open the clasps with all his might,--at least, in appearance;--and the Marchioness, satisfied with the trial to which she had put him, called one of the maids, who, using less force and more skill, unclasped the little volume in a minute.

"Here, give it me!" cried Madame de Chazeul not withdrawing her eyes from the book for an instant; and as soon as the maid had delivered it into her hand, she turned page after page, looking them all over, but without finding aught written on any leaf but the name of Helen de la Tremblade, in the hand of her uncle.

"What could he want with it?" she murmured; "perhaps I have deceived myself.--Yet, no! The room she used to occupy!--so said the man. Here, boy, what did father Walter say, when he sent you?"

"I do not well remember, Madam," answered the page, "for I was half asleep. But I know he told me, you said I was to go, and that I must get the book from Mademoiselle Helen's room."

"Did he say the room she used to occupy?" demanded Madame de Chazeul. "Answer me exactly."

"I cannot recollect, Madam," replied the boy. "He said her room; but I did not take much heed as to the words."

"Fool!" cried the Marchioness looking fiercely at him; "you should take heed of everything;" and then falling into thought again, she murmured, "Well, he is better where he is. If he be there, he may rage when the knot is tied, but cannot unloose it; if he were free he might stop the tying. Get thee gone, boy; and remember, when any one tells thee to go anywhere in my name, come to me and ask if they have authority."

"What, in the night?" asked the page.

"Ay, in the night," replied his mistress; "if I can give them directions, I can give thee an answer.--Now, girl, call Martin;" and leaning on the table while the maid hastened to fulfil her orders, she fell into a fit of meditation.

Many minutes did not elapse before the man she had sent for made his appearance. And still preserving that haughty tone of hands, which is so effectual with dependents, even when requiring evil actions at their hands, until they find that all real power to injure or disappoint is at an end, she demanded, "Well, is the priest safe?"

"Ay, Madam," answered the man; "I have done your will, though it be against my conscience."

"Conscience!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "what have you to do with conscience?--Is it not in a priest's keeping?" she added, seeing an unpleasant shade come over the man's brow; "and can he not give you absolution? This may cost a score more crowns than any other offence. But it is purchasable, and I will pay the money. To kill a Cardinal is a ruinous thing; but it can be absolved on a fair calculation of his weight in gold. These candlesticks of the church can always be replaced; and this is but a trifle. Methinks you will become a Huguenot next, and fancy that the Pope has no power to absolve us. I tell you what, Martin, if such were the case, many a fair lady and gallant gentleman, in France, would be in a perilous case."

"I shall never turn Huguenot, Madam," replied the man gravely; "but, as father Walter said, 'to drag a priest from the altar is more like the act of a heretic than of a Christian man.'"

"Ay, so he said," exclaimed the Marchioness, "because he was the person dragged; but on my honour he would have told a different story, if he had ordered the thing to be done. But you shall have the money. Here, Madelaine, bring me the casket.--Where have you put him?"

The man paused till one of the maids had brought in a small ebony and ivory box, and the Marchioness de Chazeul had counted out into his hand, a hundred small pieces of gold, upon which his fingers clenched with zealous eagerness.

"Where have you put him?" demanded the lady again. "In the sacristy, Madam," replied the servant. But at those words Madame de Chazeul started from her chair like one possessed.

"In the sacristy?" she cried; "then on my soul, he is free by this time! Do you know, that there is a way out through the walls?"

"Yes, Madam," answered Martin; "but that door is locked."

"And that," exclaimed the Marchioness, "through the vestiary and out into the court?"

The man looked confounded, and after a moment's musing he replied, "Ay, that is the way he got out."

"Out! out! Is he out?" screamed Madame de Chazeul. "He was out, but is in again," rejoined the man. "René saw him, or his ghost, in the court, and drove it back with his partizan. But as soon as he told me, I went to the chapel and into the sacristy; and there I found the good father seated where I left him, with the book on his knees."

"He takes it very easily," replied the Marchioness. "There is some new plot afoot. He must be removed, Martin; no more wandering about the castle till the marriage is over. On that marriage all depends. You know you are promised a command in my son's cornet of horse."

"I did not know it, Madam," replied the man.

"Well, then, I promise," answered the Marchioness, "for your good services this night. As soon as the marriage is over, Chazeul shall confirm it. But the priest must be removed to the little chamber at the foot of the great staircase. Have him away quick, before my brother comes down,--the room where old Estoc slept, I mean.--How came you to put him in the sacristy?"

"It was his own wish," said Martin; "you told me I might put him where I liked, and keep him under my own ward: so I gave him his choice; and he preferred the sacristy."

"Because he could get out!" cried the Marchioness: "that was his only reason: and now, good Martin, hasten and remove him,--with all gentleness, for he is a reverend man,--yet firmly too, for he is full of arts and wiles, and will confound you with mere words. Listen not to him, Martin; but tell him to come on without speaking, and lodge him safely where I have told you. What is to be done had better be done completely. The offence is committed, and we may as well make it a secure one, as spoil the benefit by half doing. Go and remove him quickly; and then, keep yourself ready to bear witness to what you saw last night."

"Oh, I am quite ready for that," answered the man; "there I have but to say what I saw, and that I can swear to. I took care to make all sure, by speaking to monsieur when I met him."

"That was right, that was right, good Martin," said the Marchioness. "You always show yourself a man of resolution and discernment. Now be quick, and see that the door be fast locked."

It may be remarked, that she spoke to the man who now left her, in a very different tone from that which she used to most of the others whom she employed in the multifarious services required of her domestics; but the truth is, that he was of a more bold, determined, and vigorous cast of mind than the others. She had less hold upon him; she feared him more; she doubted him more; and, from the minister who holds the helm of state, down to the tradesman with his shopmen, we all show more courtesy and smooth compliance, to those on whom we have no sure hold, than to those on whom we have. It is force of character that usually gains this reverence; and it is vain for any one to say, I will acquire it; for the very necessity of seeking such an ascendancy, is an everlasting bar to its attainment. The only thing that can ever supply the place of that force of character, in obtaining station and command over mankind's esteem, is the force of principle. Every man can say, I will be virtuous and true, and, with God's grace, he may be so. Then, sooner or later, honour must follow; but he must never dream of being so, for that end; for if he do, the touchstone of the world will soon prove the metal, wear through the outside gilding, and show the baser stuff below.

Madame de Chazeul was, with this man, a different being from with the rest, because she feared he might resist, and knew if he did so, it would be with no weak and poor resistance. She spoke him fair, lured him with rewards, flattered him; but she loved him less; and the moment he had left her, she thought, "I must find some means to dispose of him, after this affair is over. Yes, he shall have a command in Chazeul's cornet. We will put him in the front of the battle; and then a blow from before, or a shot from behind may finish the affair.--Oh! David was a wise man."

After sitting before her table for a moment, to collect her thoughts, and call to mind all the particulars of the plan which she had already arranged, and which, like every other dark intrigue had become, as we have seen, more and more complicated at each step she took, the Marchioness rose and walked leisurely to the great hall. Her brother, whom she expected to find, was not there; and after waiting for a moment or two, her impatience persuaded her, that it would be better to seek him in his own chamber, where they could not be interrupted. She accordingly turned her steps thither, and knocked at the door, though that ceremony was not perhaps necessary. It was a quick and hasty knock, however, as if she had come thither on urgent business; and the moment the Count's voice was heard, bidding her come in, she entered with a countenance prepared for the occasion, bearing a mingled expression of grief and bewilderment.

"Why, what is the matter, Jacqueline?" demanded the Count, as soon as he saw her. "You look scared. What is the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing," she replied in a tone of affected indifference. "I only wanted to know if you were ready; for we have much to do to-day. I wished to inquire too, what Rose was saying to you last night, just before she went to bed--for something has happened very strange."

"I do not recollect her saying anything particular," replied the Count. "I said that, from what I saw during the day, I hoped she was more inclined to do her duty, and give her hand to Chazeul; and, as before, she replied, 'Never!'"

"Ay, but she must!" cried the Marchioness, "and that this the very day too. The girl is a rank coquette, Liancourt, and only wishes to be driven."

"No, no!" cried Monsieur de Liancourt. "Not so, Jacqueline, not so!--I dare say she might be brought to love Chazeul in time; but now she clearly does not like him, though yesterday she seemed to endure him, yet it was no very cordial companionship. It did not promise much."

"More than you think or I am inclined to say," replied the Marchioness. "But one thing I will add, that if you knew as much as I do, you would be the first to force her without delay, into a marriage which is necessary for your own honour as well as hers. Ah, you do not know woman's heart, my good brother.--I say no more; but if you have any regard for her reputation and for your own good name, let no affected resistance have any effect."

"What do you mean, Jacqueline?" cried the Count, hurriedly throwing on his cloak, "what is the signification of all those mysterious nods and looks? If there be anything affecting my honour, let me hear it."

"No, no! you would rage and storm," answered the Marchioness, "and perhaps do some rash act towards Chazeul or Rose. But you must remember, women are strange perverse beings, brother, and you must take them as you find them, forgive them all their little faults and failings, and understand that a woman often refuses most vehemently, that which she most desires; and as to such errors as these I talk of, they are but too common."

"What is the meaning of all this?" cried the Count. "Come, Jacqueline, come.--No more turning and winding. I must and will know what you mean. No one has a right to speak of my honour being in danger, without telling me how."

"But it is not in danger, Liancourt," replied the Marchioness with apparent reluctance, "if the marriage takes place at once; and as for the scandal, it can be hushed up. I will give the people money,--and, after all, Chazeul may have had no wrong intent, nor Rose either. They may only have wished to talk with each other for an hour or two in private, when every one was in bed. You saw there were secret conferences between them yesterday."

"Speak plain, woman; speak plain," exclaimed the Count, growing irritated: "Talk with each other in private, when every one was in bed! What do you mean?--where did they talk?"

"Why, if the truth must be told, in Rose's room," replied the Marchioness. "It was imprudent, and the people who saw him come out, and told me of it, were not sparing in what they said,--but I have no doubt it was but imprudence."

"When did this happen?" cried the Count vehemently; "at what hour?"

"A little after two they saw him come out," answered the Marchioness, "and he went there about one."

The Count cast himself into a chair, and rested his head upon his hand for two or three minutes. Then starting up he exclaimed, "It is false! I will never believe it.--This is one of your tricks, Jacqueline."

"What do you mean, Monsieur de Liancourt?" cried the Marchioness with a frowning brow. "Do you mean to say, that I speak falsehood?--Nay, then the matter is easily proved, and shall be proved. The people whom,--as I told you I should,--I placed to watch that there might be no more flights from the castle, must be called. I insist upon it, since you accuse me of falsehood. They know my son; they know Rose d'Albret's room.--Nay, more; we will have her maid. I have not seen the girl myself, but you can question her. Perhaps she will not acknowledge the truth; but you must make her. I cannot tell that it was not herself Chazeul went to see,--for men have strange fancies,--only she is as ugly as a sow. However, send for her first, and let us hear what she says. Shall I go away and let you question her alone?"

"No, no!" replied the Count. "Stay and hear. I cannot believe it! There must be some mistake."

"Of that you can judge better than I can," answered the Marchioness, who well knew how to manage her brother. "I don't want to lead you. I know that's quite in vain, Anthony. You never would be led by any body in your life; but, see all the people, hear what they say, and then act as you may think fit."

"I will speak first with the maid," said the Count de Liancourt; and, approaching a door which led down to one of his servant's rooms, he called to the man, bidding him send Blanchette to him with all speed.

The girl made them wait for several minutes, during which time, Madame de Chazeul improved her opportunity, in guiding her brother's mind into the exact course that she desired. She took occasion to plead for her son's pardon, in the tone of a supplicant, but was not at all displeased to see, that Monsieur de Liancourt was highly indignant at his nephew; as she argued thence the success of her own plans.

When Blanchette at length appeared, the Count called her to him in a somewhat stern tone, saying, "Come hither, girl, and answer me truly. Was there any one in Mademoiselle d'Albret's chamber last night? Don't hesitate, but answer."

The girl did hesitate, however; for Madame de Chazeul had purposely left her in the dark regarding her views and purposes, knowing very well, that the more she faltered, and prevaricated, the stronger would be Monsieur de Liancourt's conviction, that the tale which had been told him was true.

"Dear me, Sir," said Blanchette at length, "who could be there?"

"Girl you are making up a falsehood," cried the Count. "I insist upon your answering straightforwardly. Was Monsieur de Chazeul, or was he not, with your mistress, between one and two o'clock this morning?"

Blanchette began to whimper; but at length, with many an excuse, and many an explanation, she admitted that it was so.

"And how dare you, you base girl," exclaimed Madame de Chazeul, joining in, "how dare you give admittance to any man into your mistress's chamber in the middle of the night?"

"Why you told me, yourself Madam," replied Blanchette somewhat saucily, "that I was to admit Monsieur de Chazeul, at any time, and to do exactly what he told me."

"At any time during the day," replied Madame de Chazeul, in a tone of indignation. "You could not suppose that I meant at night; and I never expected that he would ask you to do what was wrong, or I certainly should not have told you to obey him. However, for this very thing, I will take care you shall be discharged. There shall be no such convenient ladies about my son's wife."

The girl held down her head in sullen silence, very well understanding, that she had done exactly what Madame de Chazeul wished, though it suited her now to condemn it, and that she, Blanchette, having been the tool, was destined to be the victim.

"Pray did Mademoiselle d'Albret direct you to admit Monsieur de Chazeul?" asked the Count; and this time he got an eager and a rapid answer, for Blanchette would have done a great deal at that moment, to damage Madame de Chazeul's scheme, which she began to suspect.

"Oh no, Sir!" answered the girl, "and I am very sure she would be excessively angry if she knew that he was there at all. I only let him in, because Madame la Marquise told me to admit him at all times, and to do exactly as he ordered me; and he would have fain persuaded me, that mademoiselle had changed her mind and liked him; but I know better than that, from what she said just as she was going to bed, and from the way she prayed to God to be delivered from him; so that she would be angry enough if she knew that I had admitted him. But he kept mighty, still, and took care not to disturb her."

Madame de Chazeul's eyes had flashed fire while the girl spoke, and she had given her many a threatening look to induce her to pause. But Blanchette was not easily daunted by the lightning of the eyes; and she went on to the end as fast as possible, without hesitation or dismay.

"Ay, girl," cried the Marchioness at length, "now you have committed a shameless and infamous act, and aided my son and your mistress in soiling her own reputation for ever, you would fain represent the culpability as not so great. But get thee gone; thou art unworthy of more words. Get thee gone, and send my man Martin here. Tell him to bring his comrade with him."

The girl, who was by nature saucy, as well as sullen, would willingly have answered the Marchioness by telling her, to call her man herself, if she wanted him; but she did not dare; and, in a few minutes after she had quitted the room, the servant Martin and a comrade, whom he had had with him during the preceding night, made their appearance. The Count questioned them eagerly, and found that his nephew had undoubtedly been in the chamber of Rose d'Albret for more than an hour the preceding night. This was quite sufficient to work all the effect that Madame de Chazeul desired. He gave way to bursts of furious rage, calling his nephew a base villain who had dishonoured his house and speaking of Rose in terms of the utmost violence, without ever inquiring whether she was to blame or not.

"Where is your son, Jacqueline?" he cried, "where is this young scoundrel?"

"He quitted the castle early," replied Madame de Chazeul, "fearing, I fancy, that this affair would be found out, and then that the consequences between him and you might be serious."

"Most likely to avoid marrying her whose fair name he has blasted," said Monsieur de Liancourt. "But he shall marry her! By the Lord that lives, he shall marry her this very day!"

"There is no fear of him," replied Madame de Chazeul; "though there may be, regarding your fair ward, brother; for depend upon it she will deny the whole of this affair. The maid Blanchette will go and tell her, that it is discovered; and then they will get up some story between them, which they will expect us to believe. To make it look like truth too, you may be very sure that Rose will affect to be more opposed to the marriage than ever; and, if it were not necessary for her reputation, it would be amusing enough not to press her."

"She shall wed him before the clock strikes noon," replied the Count. "But where is your son, Jacqueline? Has he gone to Chazeul?--He must be sent for."

"Oh, no," replied the Marchioness; "he has only gone down to the village, to keep out of your way till you are a little cooler. You had better leave him there till the hour of marriage approaches, and then be as lenient with him as may be. I have already rated him severely."

"I must speak to him, Jacqueline," replied her brother. "This is an insult and an injury to me. What did he say, when you spoke to him? Did he deny it?"

"No, not absolutely deny it," replied the Marchioness; "but he did as all young men do under such circumstances. He said he had done no harm; but had only gone to Rose's chamber because he wished to speak with her in peace and quietness, which he had not been able to do during the day. It was very likely true," she added, in a tone of mock candour; "I don't think it at all unnatural."

"At all events it is ruin to her fame," replied the Count; "and we must heal the wound as speedily as possible by their marriage. I will go to her and tell her, that there must be no more delay--that I expect her to be in the hall to sign the contract at eleven, and in the chapel to take the vow immediately after. I will have no excuses; it shall be done. I will go to her this moment, before I hear mass."

"No, let me see her first," replied Madame de Chazeul; "you accused me of being harsh with her yesterday, I shall be more gentle than you with her to-day. I will be firm with her, however, and let her know that you are so too. She may make up her mind to it--about which there will be less difficulty than you think--while you and I are at the funeral, which we must get over first, in order not to have the dead body in the chapel at the wedding. Poor father Walter was taken ill last night while he was watching the corpse.--Did they tell you?"

"No," exclaimed the Count with a look of concern; "I will go and see him."

"He is sleeping, and asked not to be disturbed," replied the Marchioness; "so I sent down to the village for the Curé to attend to the funeral; but I do hope that father Walter will be awake and well enough to perform the marriage ceremony."

"I hope so too," replied the Count, "for if this girl makes any resistance, we might have difficulties with the Curé."

"Oh, she will be more easily persuaded than you imagine," replied Madame de Chazeul; "though of course she will affect reluctance, the Curé will easily see that it is all pretence. The more furious it is, the more will the affectation be apparent. So stay for me here, and I will rejoin you directly." Thus saying, she left her weak brother, who, during her absence, which was longer than he expected, worked himself into greater fury than ever, and prepared his own mind, as his sister could have wished, for any act of violence which might be required.