He spoke with a smile, for the figure amused his fancy; but the next instant he started up, saying, "It is time that this should come to an end. My will is now powerful, and my future course shall be different. I will take my resolutions firmly--I will shape my course--I will lay it down in writing, as if on a map, and then very shame will prevent my deviating. Sit down. De Brecy, sit down, and write what I shall dictate." Jean Charost seated himself, took some paper which was upon the table, and dipped a pen in the ink, while the duke stood by his side in such a position that he could see the sheet under his secretary's hand, on which he gazed for a minute or two with a thoughtful, half-absent look. The young man expected him every moment to begin the dictation of the resolutions which he had formed; but at length the duke said, in an altered tone, "No need of that; it would show a doubt of myself, of which I trust there is none. No, no; true resolution needs not fetters. I have resolved enough; I will begin to act. Give me that fur cloak, De Brecy, and go and see if the picture-gallery be warmed. Tell one of the varlets at the door to pile logs enough upon the fire, and to wait there. Then return to me."
Without reply, Jean Charost quitted the room, and told one of the two attendants who were seated without to show him the way to the picture-gallery--an apartment he had never yet heard of. The man led him on along the corridor, to a door at no great distance, which he opened; and Jean Charost, the moment after, found himself in a long, narrow sort of hall, extending across the whole width of the building, and lighted from both ends. It was divided into three separate portions, by columns on either side, and the walls between were covered with pictures nearly to the top. To our eyes these paintings might seem poor and crude; but to the eyes of Jean Charost they were, like those which he had seen at the Hôtel d'Orleans, in Paris, perfect marvels of art. Before he paused to examine any of them, he ordered more wood to be thrown upon the fire, which was burning faintly in the great fire-place in the centre; and while the attendant had gone to bring the wood from a locker, he walked slowly toward the western end of the gallery, where, upon a little strip of white silk, suspended between the two columns, appeared in large letters the word "AMORI." On entering that portion of the gallery, he was not at all surprised, after reading the inscription, to find that it contained nothing but portraits of women. All seemed very beautiful; and though the faces were all strange to him, he had no difficulty in recognizing many of the persons whom the portraits were intended to represent, for the names, in most instances, were inscribed in large letters on the frame.
A general look around filled him with astonishment, and a sort of consternation at the daring levity which had gathered together, under so meaning an inscription, the portraits of some of the most celebrated ladies in France. But he did not pause long, for the fire was soon arranged and kindled into a blaze; and he returned, as he had been directed, to the chamber of the duke.
"Now," said the prince, as he entered, "is all ready?"
"It is, sir," answered Jean Charost; "but the air is still chilly, and, in truth, your highness does not look well. Were it not better to pause for awhile?"
"No, no," replied the Duke of Orleans, quickly, but not sharply; "let us go at once, my friend. I will put such a seal upon my resolutions, that neither I nor the world shall ever forget them."
He drew the fur cloak tighter round him, and walked out of the room, leaning heavily on the young secretary's arm. As he passed, he bade both the men at the chamber-door follow; and then walking into the gallery, he turned directly to that portion of it which Jean Charost had examined. There, seating himself in a chair near the centre of the room, while the two servants stood at a little distance behind, he pointed to a picture in the extreme southwestern corner, and bade Jean Charost bring it to him. It was the picture of a girl quite young, less beautiful than many of the others, indeed, but with the peculiar beauty of youth; and when the Duke of Orleans had got it, he let the edge of the frame rest upon his knee for a moment or two, and gazed upon the face in silence.
Jean Charost would have given a great deal to be able to see the duke's heart at that moment, and to trace there the emotions to which the contemplation of that picture gave rise. A smile, tender and melancholy, rested upon the prince's face; but the melancholy deepened into heavy gloom as he continued to gaze, and the smile rapidly departed.
"I might spare this one," he said. "Poor thing! I might spare this one. The grave has no jealousies--" He gazed again for a single instant, and then said, "No, no--all--all. Here, take it, and put it in the fire."
Turning his head, he had spoken to one of the attendants; but the man seemed so utterly confounded by the order, that he repeated the words, "On the fire?" as he received the picture from the prince's hands.