CHAPTER V.
I was well pleased to arrive at Champigny, and certainly a very beautiful and charming spot it was; but, of course, the sight of Les Bois was still more agreeable to me as its proprietor. The chateau was a small house, built in the antique fashion, but still in the most perfect repair; certainly not so large as the duke's own mansion at Champigny, yet large enough for my ambition. It was seated on a hill, in the midst of fine old woods, from which it derived its name; and there was an aspect of peace, and calm, and tranquillity, which was pleasant to the eye and to the heart after the scenes of anguish, care, and excitement which war had lately presented to my sight. The interior of the chateau was, as the Prince d'Auvergne had told me, well furnished, and newly furnished throughout. To my eyes, indeed, it was splendid; for in those day there was perhaps, even more than now, a marked difference in the grace, taste, and execution of everything in the neighbourhood of the capital and in the remote provinces.
The good intendant of the Prince d'Auvergne insisted upon taking me all over the chateau, and showing me every hole and corner, though I was most anxious, I confess, to go into Paris itself, and take some means for obtaining an interview with Louise. I did not know well how to explain my inclinations to my worthy companion, and, to break the subject to him, I made some inquiries regarding the capital; but, the moment he heard that I had never seen Paris, nothing would serve him but that I must go there immediately. To his imagination it was the chief wonder of the world; and, after descanting upon its merits, beauties, and excellences for half an hour, he said, "If it were not presuming too far, my lord, I would propose to accompany you thither immediately, and show you some of the beauties of the place, though even to notice them all would require many weeks, I might say months."
I instantly caught at this proposal; and, mounting fresh horses at Champigny, we rode on into the city, where, giving our horses to the boys, we proceeded to walk through the streets of the capital. At any other moment, when my mind was not so occupied by one predominant subject, everything that I saw would have been a matter of interest to me. The long ranges of shops, covered over with awnings to keep the merchandises there exposed from the sun and the air; the people reading aloud pieces of poetry and satire at the corners of the streets; the different shows and exhibitions that attracted the sight at every step, all would have amused, detained, and interested me; but now my great desire and object was to discover the abode of the Baron de Blancford, and obtain some means of communicating with her I loved. The multitude of houses, and streets, and people that increased upon me at every minute, confused and puzzled me, and made me fancy the attempt almost impracticable, not knowing the address, and having no clew in such a labyrinth as that.
Suddenly, however, I called to mind that, from Miriam's account, Martin Vern was still in the custom of visiting the house of the Baron de Blancford, and judging that he, as a great merchant, must be known to everybody, I asked Arnon the intendant if he could lead me to his dwelling.
"I do not know him," said the intendant. "Is he a Huguenot?"
"No," I replied, with a smile at the sort of horror that came over the man's countenance at the very idea of visiting a Huguenot in Paris. "No, Monsieur Arnon, he is a Catholic, and a great merchant who has money of mine in his hands."
"Oh, then the case is very different," replied Arnon. "We will inquire after him immediately." And, entering a large goldsmith's house by the door close to the shop, he asked for Martin Vern the merchant.
We had now no difficulty in finding the dwelling, which was up a flight of steps, and the goods were not exposed in the streets, as among the ordinary shopkeepers, but spread out in rooms within doors. Neither good Martin Vern, however, nor his son was to be found at home; and I left a message, under the name of Des Bois, asking to see one or both of them at the chateau at Champigny.
Although by this time the days had lengthened, and we were in the height of summer, it was now time that we should turn our steps homeward, as the distance we had to go was nearly four leagues; and during the whole of the following day I waited in anxious expectation for the appearance of one of the two merchants. No one came, however, and another and another day succeeded, during which I scarcely stirred out, and left directions for finding me whenever I did so. At the end of the third day my patience became quite exhausted, and on the following morning I begged Arnon to send off one of the prince's servants, who knew the capital well, to ask why Master Martin Vern had not been to Champigny. Arnon did as I directed immediately; and, on bearing me the answer, which was, that neither Martin Vern nor his nephew had yet returned from Blois, where they had gone to attend upon the king, added, in order to put my mind at rest upon the subject which he thought troubled me, that I might make myself quite easy about the money; for that, having made inquiries, he found that the house of Martin Vern was one of the most wealthy and respectable in Paris.
I could not help exclaiming, "Pshaw! it is not the money, my good friend." And it was evident, from that moment, that Arnon's curiosity was not a little excited to find out what it could be that I sought with the merchants, if it was not the money that they owed me. My determination, however, was now taken to seek the house of the Baron de Blancford myself; but not all my efforts could discover it, and it was equally in vain that I attempted to discover the abode of Solomon Ahar: that he was going to lodge at the house of his cousin Levi I knew; but his cousin Levi was not to be discovered; and, on making inquiries concerning him, I was always met by a demand of "Levi who?" there being a thousand in Paris of the name of Levi, but all with some surname attached.
In the mean time, the news that daily came in from the scene of the war was anything but such as to give me gratification. The feeble attack on Poitiers by the Protestants; the gallant defence of the young Duke of Guise; the siege of St. Jean d'Angely; the death of poor Martigue, whom I could not help regretting; the fatal battle of Moncontour, which, although the defeat of the Protestants was as complete, and the success of the Catholics as surprising as well need be, was magnified in Paris in a very great degree; all these things grieved and pained me, while week after week went by in fruitless inquiries; and at length, with that sort of scorn of one's self, which is a true part of misanthropy, for giving a moment's credit to the Jew's professions of gratitude, I sat me down in bitterness of spirit, and tried to fancy that I hated the whole human race.
The autumn of the year was now approaching; there could be little or no doubt that, during the ensuing winter, the young Lord of Blaye would be free to return to Paris, and pursue the project of marriage which was held out to him; and the thoughts of poor Louise, and the privations to which she would be subjected, tormented me like an army of fiends, and re-enforced themselves by every power of imagination.
The news that St. Jean d'Angely had been recaptured by the Protestants, and that the Prince d'Auvergne, who had held it out for some time against them, had been forced to capitulate for want of supplies, had reached us some days, when, as I was sitting one night in the cabinet at Champigny, I heard the clattering of horses' feet in the courtyard below; and in a moment after, to my great astonishment, the prince himself entered the room. He embraced me kindly; and, after a few minutes' conversation upon general things, remarked that I neither looked well nor happy.
"Come," he said, "De Cerons, tell me what is the cause of this. I think by this time you might fully confide in your friend."
Before I could answer, one of his officers had entered for some directions; and, while he gave them, I made up my mind to unbosom my whole thoughts to him. In the course of the evening I accordingly did so; and, as was much the character, both of his father and himself, he heard me fully out with scarcely any observation or reply.
When I had done completely, however, and he had a complete view of my past Life and present situation, he said, "There are a good many strange parts in your tale, De Cerons; but neither you nor I, I fancy, know so much of the laws as to know whether these acts of your father and your cousin were legal. However, I see it is not that which pains you now. It is the matter of your fair cousin; and I grieve to say, that any news I may have for you is not calculated to sooth you. No wonder that you have not found them in Paris, for they are all still at Blois with the court, which gladly keeps your cousin from joining the admiral and the Prince de Bearn. I saw them all there at a grand fête given by the king, and talked for some time with Mademoiselle de Blancford. I talked of you, De Cerons, so you may suppose that she heard me willingly; and, indeed, it was impossible to mistake her looks, ay, or even her words when you were mentioned. If Monsieur de Blaye were to marry her, he would certainly wed a woman knowing that she loved another man. However, when the baron came up too, I mentioned you to him also, and somewhat startled him, I believe, by calling you my dear and most intimate friend. But he did not look displeased, De Cerons, nor do I think that he bears any ill-will towards you in his heart, though he be wayward and moody, and entirely ruled by that worst of all women, his present wife."
"Was Monsieur de Blaye there?" I demanded, somewhat sharply.
"He was," replied the prince; "and giving himself out rather more decidedly than Monsieur de Blancford seemed to like, I thought, as the promised husband of your Louise."
I started up with an exclamation and a threat that I am now ashamed of.
"Hush, hush," cried the prince, with a reproving smile "do not give way so, my good friend. By this conduct he is doing more harm than good with the baron, at least, for I heard him questioned upon the subject; and, turning upon his heel with a sort of sneer, he replied, 'Monsieur de Blaye is somewhat sanguine in his nature.' However, I did not forget you, De Cerons, and I told the whole story to my father, who, of course, is more competent to act than I am. I do not very well know what my father did; but I see the result, which is, that Monsieur de Blaye has received a high appointment, which he solicited more than a year ago, namely; to go with our military embassy to the court of the sultan. This was done, I am sure, for the purpose of removing him for a time from the scene, and of allowing you to have a fair opportunity--"
"But how, my dear prince," I said, "can I have a fair opportunity, when I am held a prisoner here, unable to advance myself or signalize my name?"
"You shall hear, De Cerons, you shall hear," replied the prince. "My father was not a man to forget any point under such circumstances. He empowered me to offer you your liberty, freely and without ransom, upon one condition, that you should go join the Prince of Orange or Prince Ludovic, who are now waging war in the Low Countries, my father undertaking to obtain for you a high command in their army. You would thus be enabled to distinguish yourself in a Protestant cause without bearing arms against your native country. You would not be farther from Mademoiselle de Blancford nor even so far, as carrying on this fatal contest in Guyenne or Poitu: you would be serving the king rather than opposing him, for it is his wish to give some support to the Prince of Orange; and my father only requires you to remain in the Low Countries till a peace is established in the internal affairs of France, which, we trust, will soon be the case; he, at the same time, promising to you that you shall have permission to return to France, freed from all restriction, the moment that it is ascertained that Monsieur de Blaye is about to return from the East."
"Your father, my lord," I said, "is most noble, generous, and considerate; and, foreseeing everything that I could desire or wish, of course, not only prevents the possibility of my refusing such an offer, but binds me to him by gratitude for ever."
"I told him that such would be the case," replied the prince; "but, alas! De Cerons, an unexpected event is likely to obstruct all our proceedings. The embassy was to set off in ten days, and everything was arranged. Monsieur de Blaye, though looking very much mortified when he heard his appointment, of course could not refuse it; and I proposed to stay another week at Blois, and then come and confer with you regarding the whole affair, when suddenly, one evening, as I was returning home, I met with three women in the street, the principal of whom, for the other two were evidently servants, asked to speak with me without taking off her mask. I had a number of people about me, but it was close to the door of the hotel; and, taking her into the porter's chamber, I asked her to explain what it was she wanted. As soon as we were alone, she took off the mask and showed me the face of the Jewish girl, Solomon Ahar's daughter, whom I found talking with you one day at Jarnac. She told me, at the same time, that she came to speak to me about you, and seemed to know your whole history, and every secret of your heart. But to the facts that she told me: they were these: that Monsieur de Blaye had gone straight to the king, and had asked and obtained leave to remain six weeks in Paris before he set out, for the express purpose of concluding his marriage before he went. The baron, the girl said, had not given his absolute consent, but made it dependant upon his daughter's inclination; but the baroness had positively promised that the baron and herself should at least sign the contract of marriage, even if their daughter, as she said, preferred waiting till the return of Monsieur de Blaye. Should this event take place, however, you may consider your Louise as lost to you for ever; for her father puts it out of his own power to dispose of her hand or withdraw his consent. The girl was really agitated about the whole business; and she made some wild exclamations, declaring that she would stop it if I would get permission for her father, and some persons who have been trading in partnership with him, to quit the court, where they have been detained for several weeks in regard to some negotiations now going on for loans of money. This was easily done, as the thing was nearly concluded; and, as soon as I had seen this arranged, I came away hither, with my father's consent, to consult with you in regard to what can be done."
"You are most kind, most kind," I said. "How can I ever thank you, D'Auvergne? but, alas! I fear that I am doomed to misery and to despair."
"Not so, not quite so," replied the prince. "As I came hither from Blois I considered the matter maturely; and we have to recollect that you, as a near relation of the lady, have every right to oppose the signature of the contract, if you think fit so to do. In the first place, you must make perfectly sure that she herself is brought to yield by no means of persuasion or intimidation that can be used towards her; and, at the same time, things must be suffered to take their course till the contract is on the very eve of being signed by the baron. You must then, by some form of law which I can inquire into, give him formal intimation of your opposition, which will consequently be brought before the courts. The fact is, you are fighting for delay; for your opposition against her own father cannot, of course, be successful, and you may perhaps be fined in some small sum for having made it; but, long before that time, this young libertine, for such he is, must be in Constantinople, and the matter secure."
I mused for a moment in thought, the intensity of which approached to agony: I saw before me the blasting of all my best hopes, and I felt at that moment, more than I had ever yet done, not only how deeply, how truly, how ardently I loved poor Louise, but how completely and thoroughly, without my knowing it, her image had been mingled with all my dreams and aspirations; how intimately the thought of winning her had mingled with all my motives for energy, exertion, and endeavour. I felt at that moment that to lose her was to lose my whole hold on life--my whole inducement to struggle onward in the course I was pursuing. There was no scheme so wild, so improbable, so daring, that I would not have undertaken at that moment to frustrate the schemes that could but tend to her misery and my own: there was no step so dangerous to myself, even had it been planted on the crumbling edge of an open grave, that I would not have taken to make her mine; yet, as I mused, I could not help thinking--I may say I could not help being convinced--that the scheme of the Prince d'Auvergne was likely to be frustrated by some impetuous act of the Baron de Blancford.
"With many men," I said, "The whole might succeed admirably; but I, who know his determined and passionate character well, feel perfectly certain that, if there be a way of frustrating us, he will find it."
"I see none," replied the prince dauphin, "if we can by any means ensure that the signing of the contract is put off to the last moment. However, De Cerons, the whole party are coming to Paris immediately; the Jew, and the merchants who are with him, will most probably arrive to-morrow morning, and your cousin, with his train, on the morning after. Obstacles of various kinds, I am sure, will keep this Monsieur de Blaye for a day or two after them; and let us do the best we can in the mean while. At all events, we shall gain some intelligence; and what I should propose is, to ride out on the day after to-morrow on the road to meet them, and, bringing them to your chateau of Les Bois, give the baron a little entertainment and repose ere he goes into Paris."
I smiled at the thought, saying, "I much fear, my excellent friend, that you will find the baron would neither accept the invitation nor thank the giver."
"Pshaw! De Cerons," replied the prince; "You are older than I am in years, but younger a great deal in experience of the world. The baron undervalued and undervalues you simply because he thought and thinks you poor. He thought you the creature of his bounty: he will now come here and find you the creature of your own sword, renowned in arms, independent in fortune, and seeking no aid from him or any man. His view will be quite different now, depend upon it. As for the arrangements of your little regale, leave that all to me: you, on your part, cast off the rough and somewhat negligent apparel in which your despondency has brought you to remain, trim your beard, bring forth your best brocade, and look as gay and gallant as if you were going into the tiltyard."
It is needless to pause upon all the minute incidents at this time. Martin Vern and his nephew had scarcely arrived in Paris before they were at Champigny, bringing with them little Miriam, who seemed to have her own will with all of them. Not knowing that the prince was there, I found that his high rank and connexion with the royal blood of France somewhat abashed and confounded the two merchants. He, on his part, did not so much unbend as perhaps I had expected; but he treated them kindly and without haughtiness, though with dignity: but he soon left them alone with me; and a few words showed me that both the elder and the younger Martin Vern, what between all they had observed of the conduct of myself and Louise, and the information of the young Jewess, were perfectly aware of how we stood towards each other, and took a kindly interest in my fate. Miriam, for her part, seemed to me to have gone quite mad. She said it was just what she had wished, all that she could wish, that had happened and would happen, and seemed quite as happy and elevated as I was bereaved and depressed. Her conduct somewhat annoyed me; and, after some short conversation about the money, which I still determined to leave in the hands of Martin Vern, I saw them depart without any effort to detain them.
On the following morning, with a splendid train, comprising at least twenty persons, dressed, as far, at least, as the prince himself was concerned, in the height of the then existing fashion, D'Auvergne and myself set out upon the road towards Blois; and, after riding for some eight miles on a fine autumnal morning, we came within sight of a large party advancing slowly, which proved, as we expected, to be that of the Baron de Blancford. Putting our spurs to our horses' sides, we rode up at a quick pace, and the baron thought fit, in those dangerous times, to halt his troop upon seeing such a body of horsemen coming down upon him. His surprise, when he beheld me and the prince dauphin, however, I shall not easily forget: nor need I say much more of this interview, as far as it regarded him, than that I readily perceived that the prince's view of the baron's character was correct, and that I had grown wonderfully in his opinion since I had ceased to need his assistance. The fête at Les Blois was accepted at once; but it required some persuasion on the part of the prince dauphin to make him believe that I was really the lord of the estate to which he was now conducted. The baroness, on her part, gazed at me with some surprise, and throughout the day I forced myself to show her as much civility and attention as possible: but there were some others in that group where there were deeper interests at work. Louise met me with eyes full of deep and intense affection, and a manner from which the sudden surprise seemed to have taken all confidence, but not all tenderness; and her two brothers, whom I had not seen for more than a year, clung round me as if their affections had found no object since we parted.
In the course of the day I had an opportunity of speaking more than once with Louise, and in a few brief words I gave her an account of all that was taking place in our plans and purposes. Her only reply was by words of affection that could never pass from my heart, and by the solemn assurance that no power on earth should ever make her consent to become the wife of the Seigneur de Blaye. The day went over, in short, as brightly as it was possible under such circumstances; and, during the three weeks that followed, everything seemed to combine to favour the plan which the prince had laid down for me.
It fortunately occurred that I never met with the Seigneur de Blaye during the whole of that period. Such a meeting could have been followed but by one result, and that result must have been fatal to myself; for it must be remembered that I was a Protestant and he a Catholic, and the survivor in a duel, under such circumstances, could only expect death. My visits to the hotel of Monsieur de Blancford were generally short; for I soon saw that, if I did not find Louise when first I went, means were taken to prevent her appearing while I was there. The baron, however, was all condescension, and declared that he was proud of his cousin. The baroness, on her part, seemed to make herself somewhat more tender and amiable than was needful.
But, at length, the fatal minute, which was to dissipate such a state of things altogether, arrived; and, just on the day preceding that which was fixed ultimately as the last for Monsieur de Blaye's stay in Paris, a messenger from the baron invited me, in courteous terms, to come and witness his signature of the contract of marriage between my cousin Louise and the Seigneur de Blaye. We had already ordered a notary to prepare in due form my opposition to the baron's signature, upon the plea both of relationship and never having been consulted, and of having a prior claim to the hand of Mademoiselle de Blancford. The note requested the honour of the prince dauphin's company on the same occasion as my friend; and, on reading it, he exclaimed, "Oh, certainly, certainly! I will go, De Cerons, and, not only that, but we will take a sufficient body of retainers with as to guard against all chances, and we will have likewise our own notary to take act of your opposition."
All this being settled, we set out, and reached the house at the hour appointed. I was somewhat surprised to find going up the stairs good Martin Vern, accompanied by a boy carrying several packages, and another man not so burdened. On entering the great saloon, we found the baron with Monsieur de Blaye, the baroness, and some of her kindred, both male and female; besides whom, the room contained Louise, with the tears already in her eyes, and several notaries and lawyers. Immediately on our entrance, Monsieur de Blaye came forward with his hand extended towards me, as if imagining that we were the best possible friends; but I drew myself up and bowed stiffly, and he fell back with a heavy frown.
The baron looked somewhat surprised, but the presence of the Prince d'Auvergne acted as a restraint upon him, and he welcomed his distinguished guest with courtesy, if not with so free and unrestrained a demeanour as usual. He looked two or three times suspiciously at the notary who accompanied us, and who was one of the most distinguished of his class, and received far more attention and marks of reverence from his brethren than either D'Auvergne or I wished or expected. Sweetmeats and some choice wines, however, were handed round before the destined explosion began; but at length the baron, prefacing the matter by a little eulogy upon Monsieur de Blaye, which had wellnigh made some of those who knew him laugh, directed the contract to be read.
That document began by setting forth that, "as an alliance was intended at a future period between the Seigneur de Blaye and Mademoiselle de Blancford, it had been judged expedient that the Baron de Blancford should sign the contract to that effect previous to the departure of the said seigneur for foreign lands; and therefore," &c. It went on to express the usual agreements in such cases, but took care to omit the express consent of the bride, and also made no provision for the freedom of her religion. She was declared heiress of the lands of Blancford and Cerons in the event of her two brothers' death without children; and the baron promised with her a dowry which to me, who knew his habits of expense, and, in some degree, the true nature of his property, seemed enormous.
As soon as the whole was read, he took the pen in his hand to sign, and I could see my poor Louise clasp her two hands together and raise her eyes to me with a look of anguish and supplication.
At that moment, however, the notary we had brought, who had been consulting with the others, stepped forward, and laid his hand upon the spot where the baron was about to sign, saying,
"Your pardon, Monsieur le Baron de Blancford; I think that Monsieur de Cerons has something to say on this matter, and a short paper to read, to which I beg your attention, and of which, gentlemen, you will all bear witness."
He then handed me the paper, saying, at the same time in a whisper, "Neither more nor less."
I followed his directions to the letter, and read the paper of objections through without pausing. When I came to the end, however, and found there stated that I would sustain my right upon the grounds therein stated, and upon several other legal grounds of objection, to all and sundry parts and clauses of the said contract, in warranty of which I produced as my surety the Prince Dauphin d'Auvergne, I laid, I know not well why, considerable emphasis upon the words "several other objections."
At the same time, I remarked the baron turn very pale; but he recovered himself immediately, and, with an angry gesture, exclaimed to the notary, who had continued to hold his hand on the paper, "Remove your hand, Master Jean! I will sign it at all risks."
"It is useless, Monsieur le Baron," replied one of the lawyers; "after this solemn protest in due and legal form, no act that you can do in this matter is lawful until the Parliament shall have considered the matter to render justice therein."
"But I shall take care to render justice to myself," exclaimed Monsieur de Blaye, advancing towards me furiously: "We all know that you lawyers love to see all things plunged into the quagmire of the courts, round the edges of which you toads sit and croak at leisure; but gentlemen have a shorter means of settling such transactions, and to such, Monsieur de Cerons, do I appeal. Nor, sir, must there be delay of any kind. Tomorrow I depart from Paris; the rest of this day is our own."
"Oh! no, no!" cried the voice of Louise, while, with her arms extended towards me as if for protection, she ran forward.
But, ere she reached me, she fell fainting on the ground, and the marchioness, with other ladies present, prevented my approach. All was now a scene of confusion; the gentlemen of the party came forward, each talking, each offering his opinion, towards the spot where De Blaye and myself stood face to face, and the baron seemed divided between us and his daughter, for whom I saw that he was not without feeling, though he struggled not to show it.
In the midst of this Babel, however, the clear, fine-toned voice of the prince dauphin suddenly made itself heard, saying,
"Your pardon, gentlemen, your pardon! I have one word to say; but that one word is an important one, which must settle all this matter between my excellent good acquaintance Monsieur de Blaye and my friend Monsieur de Cerons."
All were instantly silent except De Blaye himself, who repeated more than once, in a tone of authority, to keep silence, and let the prince speak. When he stopped and bowed, D'Auvergne went on: "What I have to say, De Cerons, is, that you will be good enough to remember you are my father's prisoner, and therefore can lie under a challenge from no man. Monsieur de Blaye, I must call upon you to retract your challenge, as no man of honour can offer one to a gentleman incapable of accepting it."
De Blaye, who was both really enraged and really brave, blustered a good deal at this notification, and said something rather offensive to the prince about his father the duke being afraid of losing my ransom. D'Auvergne answered coolly, however, saying, "That is not his fear or mine, Monsieur de Blaye; but our fear might well be that the Catholic army might lose a very tolerable soldier and brave young gentleman in yourself; because, as we all know, Monsieur de Cerons would kill you like a rat. Come, De Cerons, I must beg you to accompany me."
If the first part of the prince's speech had pleased Monsieur de Blaye, and made him simper and look modest, the unpleasant simile in the latter part caused him to swell and colour with anger. But D'Auvergne took no farther notice; the fact of my not being at liberty was without reply, and, after one look to my poor Louise, I quitted the room. Martin Vern was at the door, and to him the prince whispered a word as we passed. The merchant made a low inclination of the head, and, mounting our horses, we rode away.