CHAPTER IX.
It was two o'clock in the morning of Sunday, the 24th of August, 1573, when I reached the porte-cochère of the Baron de Blancford. The whole town was still, and the soft, balmy air of the summer night fanned my cheek like the breath of love. The wicket was, as I had expected, open, and behind it was Moric Endem, armed only with the usual weapons of daily defence, with the addition of a pistol in case of need. He was masked, however, as it was agreed that we all should be; and, pointing to a small door on the other side of the court, he whispered, "By that door and up the stairs, sir, you will find Andriot and two others."
I looked towards the porter's room, fearing lest the least noise should disturb those we wished to slumber. All was quiet, however; and, passing across the court, I found the door held open by Andriot. On the first landing-place of the stairs there was another of my men, and higher up a third. On the third landing there appeared a light shining through a door ajar, and I gently pushed it open and entered. It admitted me to a small anteroom, and watching on the opposite side was Albert of Blancford. The noble boy embraced me gladly; and, with a whispered word or two of joyful congratulation, led me into the room beyond. There stood Louise, somewhat pale and agitated; but the dear girl suffered not such feelings to veil or check her affection for the man she loved; and, starting forward from the side of old La Tour, she cast herself into my arms. I soothed and caressed her for a moment, while the good old pastor came forward and grasped me eagerly by the hand. The contract of our marriage lay upon the table; but we had many words to say to each other, and had not yet signed it, when the door behind us opened, and the baron himself entered.
"Is it done?" he asked, anxiously: "has it taken place? Be quick, Henry! be quick!" he added, seeing that the contract was still unsigned. "I fear, and shall fear for your happiness, my children, till the act is irrevocable."
Oh! happy interruption to words, every one of which occupied those moments that bore Fate upon their wings! Gladly we signed the paper; gladly we pronounced the vow that bound us to each other; gladly I placed the mystic symbol of eternal union on the hand of her I loved.
"Now!" cried the baron, as soon as the whole was completed, "Now depart at once! You will find good Dame Marguelette without the walls at the spot where your horses wait. Bless thee, my Louise! bless thee! Be kind to her, Henry, and love none but her: be warned--be warned by what you have seen and know. Get thee to bed, Albert, and let all now be quiet in the house."
Louise trembled a good deal, but I led her on; and gradually, as the severing from her father's house seemed more complete, she clung to me more closely. The baron, with his own hand, shut the door behind us, and, step by step, we descended the dark stairs.
"I have thought it better, dear Louise," I said, as we reached the bottom of the stairs, "That we should both be screened from notice as far as possible; and I have here a nun's gown, if you can throw it over your other clothes. Where is the gown, Andriot?"
He gave it me, and Louise covered her white dress with the gray serge; but, as she was in the very act of putting it on, to my surprise I heard the great and remarkable-toned bell of St. Germain l'Auxerrois begin to ring loudly, as if for matins; and, scarcely had I hurried Louise across the court into the street, when loud shouts were heard from different parts of the town; the bells of the churches were heard ringing; the light of torches and flambeaux was seen advancing from the side of the Louvre; and it was evident that, notwithstanding the profound stillness which had reigned in the city as I passed along, one part, at least, of the population was up and watchful.
A moment after we heard a loud and piercing shriek in the distance, and Louise, trembling in every limb, clung to my arm. At first she seemed to think that all this referred to ourselves; that we were discovered, and about to be dragged back; but the cries from every part of the town soon undeceived her: and, as I remembered the various little incidents of the last three days; the warning of young Martin Vern; the eager and pressing invitation of the prince dauphin, I doubted not that some dark and horrible scheme for the destruction of the Protestants was upon the eve of execution.
Moric Endem closed the door behind us, and, with the other men, sprung to my side; and, remembering the caution of the young merchant, I drew Louise on, with scarcely a word, towards his dwelling.
The street in which we were was still nearly vacant, with the exception of the people bearing torches, who were coming from the farther end; but, just as we quitted the shadow of the Hôtel de Blancford, a man darted forth from a doorway on the other side, crying, "Help! help! Here are Protestants escaping!" and, at the same time, he seized me by the arm and aimed a blow at my head. He was masked, but the voice was that of De Blaye; and he certainly would, have cut me down, had not Moric Endem, always prompt and cool, levelled his pistol at his head and fired. He fell dead upon the spot; but the cry had brought a number of the torch-men down at full speed, and I certainly thought that our hour was come.
Moric's wit, however, now saved us, as his ready courage had done. He seemed to comprehend the whole in a moment; and, as his religion never stood in the way of his proceedings, he burst out into a loud laugh as the men came up, crying, "That Maheutre of a Huguenot will need no more. By the mass, if I had not had my pistol, he would have murdered some of us. There, drag him along by the heels to Montfaucon. So perish all enemies of the true church!"
"Bravo! bravo!" cried the torchmen, taking us for zealous Catholics; and on we hurried after them as close as we could come. But the house of Martin Vern was far off. The streets were beginning to swarm with people; we saw two doors burst open, to pillage the houses and massacre the inhabitants, before we reached the end of the street; and Louise could not keep up with the men, whose mistake might still have saved us if we could have gone on in their company. Nothing, then, but certain death seemed to surround us on every side; the only chance was in putting Moric Endem at the head of our troop; but he was known to so many Catholics as well as Protestants, that the first order to unmask would have betrayed all.
As we were following the other party at some distance, five or six people came up from the opposite direction, and spoke a moment to those before us. There was a woman with these new-comers; but they stopped, and one man advanced, saying, "Unmask!"
Moric was about to cut him down, but I stopped him, and replied, "Unmask yourself."
"Ha!" cried the other, "I was seeking you, Monsieur des Bois. We shall save you still. Miriam, link yourself with the lady; my men, mingle with their men. Let none of your party," he added, in a low tone, "unmask; we will do that if need should be. Now, shout, my men, and wave your torches. Up with the Catholic church, down with the Maheutres!"
"Oh, my father! my father!" said Louise to me, in a low voice; "can we not save my father! Oh, Henry! Henry! think of him!"
I spoke a word upon the subject to the young merchant, but he stopped me sharply ere I could finish my sentence. "I am risking my life by what I am doing even now. Speak not of it! He has a Catholic wife; she will save his house. Come on! come on! You will see such sights as will make you glad of your own lives!"
I whispered to Louise the hope that he gave me, scanty as it was; and, alas! as we hastened onward, the sights we saw did fully justify that which the young merchant had said.
Before we had gone half a mile, the streets of Paris were one scene of massacre and horror. The whole place was blazing with torches; large parties of armed men, on foot and on horseback, were scouring the streets, killing every one even suspected of Protestantism; and many a Catholic, too, was slain in the anarchy of the time, who stood between fair estates and greedy relations. Six or seven we saw slain before our eyes; and thrice, while the echoing screams of new victims were heard within the houses, a dead body was cast forth from the upper windows into the streets as we were passing. Instantly a crowd of the dark and sallow villains that crowd the lanes and alleys of every great metropolis, gathered round, like vultures over the dead, to strip it of its clothing; and often was heard the low groan or faint cry which followed the dagger-stroke that ended what the assassins above had left unfinished.
As we approached the banks of the river, however, the scene became still more terrible and still more confused; thousands of figures, all bent on the same bloody business, whirled round us in every direction; the cries of the victims; the shouts of their butchers; the breaking in of doors and windows; the occasional discharge of firearms; the incessant ringing of the bells, the beating of drums, and the sounding of trumpets, made a noise perfectly deafening; while the sights that were now presented, as clearly as if it had been day, made the heart sick with horror, and agony, and indignant grief. In one gateway alone I saw piled up so many human bodies, among which were two women, that the gate could not be shut; and, as I kept my eyes upon the ground, I saw that the gutters flowed red with blood. A little farther on, a boy of thirteen or fourteen years of age was seen dragging along a naked body by the heels; and farther still, a fiend of a woman pressing out the last breath from the body of a creature like herself, while she tore the rich clothes from her dying limbs.
All those that appeared active in the massacre, of a better class, at least, all I saw were masked; but much happened even close to me that I beheld not at all; for my whole thoughts were taken up with the situation of the dear girl by my side, and I feared every moment that her strength would fail through terror, horror, and agitation. She hung heavily upon my arm, it is true, but still she did not give way. With her eyes bent down upon the ground, she hurried on, while the kind girl Miriam, though evidently terribly agitated herself, poured strengthening and consoling words into her ear, and supported her on the other side.
Three times we had been stopped and commanded to unmask; but either a single word from young Martin Vern, or Moric Endem's well-imitated shout of "Down with the Huguenots!" obtained us a free passage without uncovering our faces.
At length, the long-wished-for sight of the street in which the merchant lived presented itself; but at that very spot we were stopped by a crowd of wild rabble whom no words would pacify; and even when the young merchant and two of those who were with him pulled their vizards off, a furious man, brandishing a sword, swore that he gave a false name, and was calling out to kill him, when Moric Endem, starting forward, exclaimed, "Ha! Gouquant! Huguenot! Maheutre that you are! Knock his brains out, Martin! Knock his brains out! He was Coligne's horseboy at Moncontour, and was taken. Knock his brains out! knock his brains out! He is a Huguenot shamming Catholic."
With his drawn sword in his hand he rushed forward, and, before he could be stopped, cut the man down. "By the mass, there are more Huguenots among them!" he cried, springing at another man. "Kill them all! kill them all! Down with the Huguenots!" but the men fled in every direction, and left the street clear.
Young Martin Vern, however, paused and looked angrily upon Moric Endem, saying, "This must be answered."
"It is answered in six words," replied Moric. "The man is what I said. He is Gouquant, who was horseboy to the admiral, and has since, I hear, been cutthroat for any one that wanted one here in Paris."
Nobody could contradict him, and the young merchant hurried on.
Oh! with what joy and satisfaction did I see the great doors of the merchant's courtyard close behind us, and held my poor half-fainting Louise to my heart in a momentary dream of safety! But that dream was soon dispelled, for I heard one of the men, as pale as death, telling the good youth who had protected us that the whole place had been twice searched for me and my followers already. The next moment there was a low rap at the gate, and, on looking through the grating, we saw the two elder merchants, with a footboy, and immediately gave them admission. Martin Vern's face was sad and pale, however.
"They refuse me to open the city gates on any account," he said, as soon as the door was closed. "Nay, cheer up, sweet lady, we will find means to save you. Miriam, what says your quick wit? To-morrow the search will be stricter and more orderly--not less fatal, though. How can we get them out of the city?"
"By the river!" said the girl, eagerly, "by the river! My father's barge, that brought all the gold plate from Rouen, is just at the back of our garden."
"But, to get to the top of your house, Miriam," said the merchant, "They must pass round through that awful street where the blood is now flowing like water."
"Over the tops of the houses!" cried the girl; "over the roof! I know there is a way. You, dear Martin, run round and tell my father to open the door above. I will guide them thither."
The young merchant paused not a moment, and his uncles as eagerly and rapidly led us out upon the tops of their warehouses. Tremendous was the lurid glare that rose up from the streets below; tremendous the mingled roar of terrific sounds that reached us as we hurried along the narrow and giddy way; it was like walking along the precipice verge of hell itself; and I do not think that Louise could have borne it long, had not good Martin Vern soon led us into a sort of alley between the double roofs of the houses. It was with some difficulty that we found out which was the roof of the good Jew's house; but at length Miriam fixed upon it, and knocked at a small door in the side. For several moments there was no answer, and she knocked again. Then, however, came the sound of steps hurrying up, and hands unsteady, it seemed, with age or fear, unlocked the door on the other side. As soon as it was opened the head of Solomon Ahar appeared, his limbs shaking, and his face pale.
"Blessed be God!" he cried. "Blessed be God! Come in, my children! come in! All is safe here. I always make my house doubly strong. Ah! bless your sweet face, lady, you look pale, and well you may; but the boat will save you. It is close to the shore; in the little creek I had made to unload my merchandise. I owe my life to the good lord, your lover, there!"
"My husband!" said Louise, in a tone that I shall never forget; and, casting herself upon my bosom, she wept. Her tears were soon dried, however, and we hurried down to the bank.
As it was probable that we might be fired upon, some large piles of fagots were given us to make a sort of screen on either side, and also to give the barge the appearance of merely a wood-boat. A large bag of money was placed in my hands by Martin Vern; Miriam brought down some rich cushions for Louise to lie upon; the Jew himself added wine and provisions; and Moric Endem, doing his best to assume the appearance of a common boatman, aided another of the men to push away from the shore and get into the middle of the river.
As we slowly made our way along, the horrid sounds from the centre of the town began to decrease; but, just in passing near the walls, the guards first called out to stop, and then fired upon us. But their shot did us no harm, and, ere they could load and fire again, we were out of reach. We passed the suburb, too, in safety; and oh! how strange was the sensation, when we felt the boat gliding on through the calm, noiseless scenes of the country, and saw the calm morning light glowing warmly in the east!
Our horses and the rest of my followers, with good Dame Marguelette, had been stationed at a little cabaret not a hundred yards from the river, and Moric, who knew the spot, engaged to land us, and lead us thither at once. He was not one to mistake, and we put ourselves entirely under his guidance. When the boat touched the shore, however, I thought I heard many persons talking at a distance, and landed first to see.
As I approached the rendezvous, I saw, by the gray dawn, a much larger body of horse than that which I expected, and, pausing, I was on the eve of returning to the barge, when I perceived a young man dismounted, and pacing eagerly backward and forward, but every now and then pausing to look up the road. I thought that I could not be mistaken in the figure, and, advancing a little nearer, the face of the prince dauphin became more distinct. At the same moment he caught a sight of me, and, darting forward, he caught me by the hand, saying, "Thank God! but oh, De Cerons, you are surely not alone!"
I told him briefly what had happened, and he replied, "Lose not a moment! Bring them all here. There is a letter for the lady, and an escort of my own men, with a safe conduct from my father. But you must put twenty leagues between you and Paris ere you sleep; for here, at this moment, no man could be certain of saving his own brother from hour to hour. No words, De Cerons, but away! To Geneva! to Geneva! if you would have safety."
No words, indeed, were spent in vain. Louise and the rest were brought up from the boat, and, ere twenty minutes had passed, we were on the road to Switzerland.
It was not till we had passed the French frontier that I could believe that the beloved being, now my own, was in safety; but there my joy was mingled with deep grief; for there we learned, for the first time, the extent of our loss, and found that the Barony of Blancford, as well as the Lordship of Cerons, had fallen to one who wept to receive them. Good old La Tour, too, was among the gone; and the Baroness de Blancford had not been suffered, by the wild beasts that were let loose upon the Protestants of France, to escape that fate which she made no effort to avert from her husband.