Agnes Sorel: A Novel

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XIX.

The curiosity of Martin Grille was greatly excited. The curiosity of Martin Grille could not rest. He had no idea of a master having a secret from a valet. What were valets made for? he asked himself. What could they do in the world if there was any such thing as a secret from them? He determined he would find out that of his master, and he used every effort, trusting to Jean Charost's inexperience to lead him into any admission--into any slip of the tongue--which would give one simple fact regarding the stranger whom they had met at Pithiviers, relying on his own ingenuity to combine it with what he had already observed, so as to make some progress on the way to knowledge. But Jean Charost foiled all his efforts, and afforded him not the slightest hint of any kind, greatly raising his intellect in the opinion of his worthy valet, but irritating Martin's curiosity still further.

"If there be not some important secret," thought the man, "why should he be so anxious to conceal it?" and he set to work to bring Armand Chauvin into a league and confederacy for the purpose of discovering the hidden treasure.

Armand, however, not only rejected all his overtures, but reproved him for his curiosity. "I know not what is the business of valets, Master Martin," he said; "but I know my own business. The chevaucheur should be himself as secret as the grave. Should know nothing, see nothing, hear nothing, except what he is told in the way of his business. If a secret message is given him to convey, he should forget it altogether till he sees the person to whom it is to be delivered, and then forget it again as soon as it is given. Take my advice, Master Martin, and do not meddle with your master's secrets. Many a man finds his own too heavy to bear, and many a man has been hanged for having those of other people."

Martin Grille did not at all like the idea of being hanged, and the warning quieted him from Orleans, where it was given, to the good town, of Blois; but still he resolved to watch narrowly in after days, and to see whether, by putting piece and piece together, he could not pluck out the heart of Jean Charost's mystery.

The three horsemen rode into the town of Blois at eventide, just as the sun was setting; and, according to the directions he had received, Jean Charost proceeded straight to the ancient château, which, when somewhat altered from its then existing form, was destined to be the scene of many tragic events in French history.

Though the face of the world has remained the same, though mountain and valley stand where valley and mountain stood, though towns and fortresses are still to be found where towns and fortresses then existed, the changes of society have been so great, the relations between man and man, and between man and all external things, have been so much altered, that it is with difficulty we bring our mind to comprehend how certain things, all positive facts, existed in other days, and to perceive the various relations--to us all strange and anomalous--which thus arose. It is probable that the Duke of Orleans did not possess a foot of land in the town of Blois besides the old château, and that he did not hold that in pure possession. But, either as appanage or fief, he held great territories in the central and southwestern parts of France, which yielded him considerable revenue in the shape of dues, tolls, and taxes, gave him the command of many important towns, and placed in his hands, during life, a number of magnificent residences, kept up almost entirely by services of vassals or other feudal inferiors. Shortly before this time, the Duchy of Aquitaine had been thus conceded to him, and Orleans, Blois, and a number of small cities had been long in his possession. Thus the château of Blois was at this time held by him, if not in pure property, yet in full possession, and afforded a quiet retreat, if not exactly a happy residence, to a wife whom he sincerely loved, without passion, and esteemed, even while he neglected.

Removed from the scenes of contention which were daily taking place near the capital--contention often dignified by the name of war, but more deserving that of anarchy--the town of Blois had enjoyed for many years a peaceful and even sluggish calm, for the disorders of many other parts of France, of course, put a stop to peaceful enterprise in any direction, either mental or physical. There seemed no energy in the place; and the little court there held by the Duchess of Orleans, as well as the number of persons who usually resided in the town as a place of security, afforded the only inducements to active industry.

As Jean Charost rode along through the streets, there were shops which might be considered gay, as the world then went; there were persons of good means and bright clothing, and a number of the inferior class taking an hour's exercise before the close of day. But there was none of the eager bustle of a busy, thrifty city, and the amusement-loving people of France seemed solely occupied with amusement in the town of Blois.

At the gates of the old castle, the draw-bridge was found down, the portcullis raised, two lazy guards were pitching pieces of stone into a hole dug in the middle of the way, and wrangling with each other about their game. Both started up, however, as the three horsemen came slowly over the bridge, and one thrust himself in the way with an air of military fierceness as he saw the face of a stranger in the leader of the party. The next moment, however, he exclaimed, "Ah! pardie: Chauvin is that you? Who is this young gentleman?"