"Adieu, Seigneur Quentin; we shall see each other again. Rely upon the friendliness of Maître Pierre. (Aside to Martigny) Be sure to tell him that which concerns him; I leave thee free to do what thou deemest fitting."
"Be at ease, sire."
Left alone with Quentin Durward, Martigny at once informs him that the Comtesse de Croy has taken refuge at the court of King Louis XI., and lives in the ancient château which he points out to him. Then Quentin Durward implores Martigny to go into the castle and give a letter to Isabelle.
"Ah! Sir Durward, what are you thinking about?" exclaimed Martigny, who in his capacity as a citizen of Tours does not know that the title of Sir is only used before a baptismal name.
"You must, it is absolutely imperative!" insists Quentin.
"I beg you to believe that if the thing were possible. (Aside) I am more anxious to get in than he. (Aloud) Listen, I foresee a way."
You do not guess the way? It is, indeed, a strange one for a man who does not dare to put a love-letter behind walls, doors, curtains, tapestries and portières. You shall know the method employed before long.
Quentin Durward, left alone, informs the audience that the Comte de Crèvecoeur, who comes to claim Isabelle, shall only have her at the expense of his own life. In short, he talks long enough to give Martigny time to enter the château, to see Isabelle, and to put the method in question into practice—
"Well?" asks Quentin.
"I have spoken to her."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing at all; but she blushed, went pale and fainted."
"She fainted? What happiness!"
"When she regained consciousness she talked of taking the air. Look, look, turn your eyes in that quarter."
"My God! It is she! (To Martigny) Go away, I implore you!" (Martigny hides behind a mass of trees.)
The method employed by the man who did not dare to get a note conveyed into a closed room guarded by a confidant was to make Isabelle come out into the open air, in full view of the château de Plessis-les-Tours. Not bad, was it? Isabelle is in a tremble. And with good reason! She knows that Martigny is the King's confidant, and she has her doubts about Martigny being at a safe distance, Martigny, a gallant naturally full of cunning, since he has better emissaries than those of the king, and tells Louis XI. things he does not know. So she only comes on to say to Quentin: "Be off with you!" Only, she says it in nobler terms and in language more befitting a princess—
"Go away, I entreat you!"
"One single word!"
"I am spied upon, ... they might surprise us!"
"But at least reassure my heart. What! go without seeing me! ... Ah! cruel one! You do not know how much absence ..."
"I must be cautious for both of us, Seigneur Durward; they will explain everything to you. Go away!... Let it be enough for the present to know that you are loved more than ever. Go!"
"But this silence ..."
"Says more than any words ..."
"Adieu, then!"
[He kisses the Countess's hand.]
"Come, depart!" says Éléonore.
[Quentin goes out at one side and the Countess at the other.]
"And we will go and inform the king of all that has happened," says Martigny, coming out from behind his thicket of trees.
END OF ACT I
We clearly perceived that rascal Martigny hiding himself behind that thicket; well, look what took place, notwithstanding: Isabelle and Quentin Durward, who had greater interest in knowing it than we, had no suspicion! Who says now that Youth is not confident? But now let us pass on to the first act of Louis XI. by Casimir Delavigne, and let us see if the national poet is much stronger and more realistic than the royalist poet.
[1] Hired applauders.