At the next halting-place the litter stopped, about an hour before sunset. There were few attendants around; the old major domo was somewhat slow in dismounting, and Jean Charost, who was sooner on foot, drew back the curtains to permit the duchess to alight. She had hardly set her foot to the ground, however, when a hard, powerful hand was laid upon the young secretary's shoulder, and a hollow voice said, aloud, "Young man, God will bless you. I find you are faithful and true amid the false and the deceitful."
Both the duchess and Jean Charost turned suddenly to look at the speaker. The latter recognized him at once as the stranger whom he had seen at Pithiviers, and on one occasion before; but the duchess drew a little back, murmuring, with a look of alarm, "Who is that person?"
"Strange to say, madam," replied the young secretary, "I can not tell your highness. I have seen him once or twice in somewhat singular circumstances; but his name I do not know."
As soon as the stranger had uttered the words above mentioned, he had crossed his arms upon his breast and moved away, hardly noticed by the attendants in the bustle of arrival; but the duchess followed him still with her eyes; and then, as she walked on, she repeated twice the stranger's words, "You are faithful and true amid the false and the deceitful;" and then, looking earnestly in Jean Charost's face, she added, "Will you be faithful and true to me also, young gentleman?"
"I am sure he will, mother," said her young son, who was holding her hand; and Jean Charost replied, "To all who trust me, I will be so, madam. When I am not, I pray God that I may die."
CHAPTER XX.
When within a few miles of the château of Beauté, Armand Chauvin was sent forward to announce the near approach of the duchess; and she herself, though the weather was still intensely cold, notwithstanding the brightness of the sunshine, ordered the curtains of the litter to be looped up, in order that she might see the castle before she actually reached it. Her anxiety evidently increased as they came nearer and nearer the dwelling of her husband. And who is there, after being long absent from those they love, who does not, on approaching the place of their abode, feel a strange, thrilling anxiety in regard to all that time may have done? It is at that moment that the uncertainty of human fate, the hourly peril of every happiness, the dark possibilities of every moment of existence seem to rush upon the mind at once. I have often thought that, if man could but know the giddy pinnacle upon which his fortunes ever stand, the precipices that surround him on every side; the perils above, below, around, life would be intolerable. But he is placed in the midst of friendly mists, that conceal the abysses from his eye, and is led on by a hand--in those mists equally unseen--which guides his steps aright, and brings him home at length. It is only the intense anxiety of affection for those we love that ever wafts the vapors away, even for a moment, and gives us a brief sight of the dangers that surround our mortal being, while the hand of the Almighty Guide remains concealed, and but too often untrusted.
While still at some miles' distance from the castle, the towers and pinnacles were seen peeping over the shoulder of a wooded hill, and then they were lost again, and seen, and lost once more. The duchess then beckoned up Jean Charost to the side of her litter, conversed with him some time, and asked him many questions: how long he had been with the duke, who commended him to her husband's service, what was his family and his native place. She asked, too, more particularly regarding her husband's health, whether his illness had been sudden, or announced by any previous symptoms of declining health; but she asked not one question regarding his conduct, his habits, or any of his acts. She did not need to ask, indeed; but, even if she had not known too well, still she would have abstained.
At length the hill was climbed, the wood was passed, the gate of the château of Beauté was in view, with attendants already marshaled on each side of the draw-bridge, to honor the duchess's reception. As soon as the head of her little escort appeared upon the road, a page ran into the ward-room of the great tower, and the next instant another figure came forth with that of the boy, and advanced along the bridge. Greatly to Jean Charost's joy and satisfaction, he recognized the figure of the duke, and when he looked toward the duchess, he saw a bright and grateful drop sparkling in her eyes, which, in spite of a struggle to repress it, rolled over and moistened her cheek. Another moment, and the duke stood beside the litter; the mules stopped, and, bending forward, he cast his arms around his wife. She leaned her head upon his shoulder, and there must have shed tears; but they were soon banished, and all parties bore a look of joy. Jean Charost could not help remarking, however, that the duke was very pale, and looked older by some years than when he had last seen him. But still, there was one thing very satisfactory in his aspect to the eyes of the young man. There was a gladness, a lightness of expression, an affectionate earnestness in his greeting of the duchess which, from all he had heard and knew, he had not expected. There was great satisfaction, too, on the faces of all the elder attendants. Lomelini looked quite radiant, and even Monsieur Blaize forgot his ancient formality, and suffered his face to overrun with well-pleased smiles. He laid a friendly grasp, too, upon Jean Charost's arm, as the duke and duchess passed into the château, and walked on with him across the court, saying, in a low voice, "You have done a good service, my young friend, in bringing that lady back to this house, which might well atone for a great number of faults. She has not been here for four years."
"I hope I have not accumulated many faults to atone for, good sir," answered Jean Charost, smiling. "If I have, I am unconscious of them."