"I will spurn him as a cur," replied Bernard de Rohan. "I will strike him in the midst of his people; call him a coward as well as a knave, and send him back with the brand of shame upon his brow. It matters not to me who are with him! If gentlemen be there, so much the better; Bernard de Rohan's name is not unknown, Bernard de Rohan's honour bears no stain; and they shall hear his treachery and baseness blazoned in the open day by a tongue unknown to falsehood."
Corse de Leon gazed upon him for a moment with a grave, perhaps one might call it a pitying smile. "You have forgotten," he said, "or never fully known, the court of France. There has there risen up," he added, "within my memory, a habit, an affectation of indifference, if you like to call it so, to all things on this earth; which indifference is born of a corrupt and a degraded heart, and of sated and exhausted appetites. To a high mind, furnished with keen and vigorous faculties, nothing on earth can be indifferent; for acuteness of perception—a quality which, in its degree, assimilates us to the Divine nature—weighs all distinctions. As God himself sees all the qualities of everything, whether minute or great, and gives them their due place, so, the grander and the more expansive the intellect may be, the more accurately it feels, perceives, and estimates the good or evil of each individual thing. The low and the base, the palled taste of luxury, the satiated sense of licentiousness, the callous heart of selfishness, the blunted sensibilities of lust, covetousness, gluttony, effeminacy, and idleness, take refuge in indifference, and call it to their aid, lest vanity—the weakest, but the last point to become hardened in the heart of man—should be wounded. They take for their protection the shield of a false and tinsel wit, the answer of a sneer, the argument of a supercilious look, and try to gloze over everything, to themselves and others, with a contemptuous persiflage which confounds all right and wrong. Thus will this count and his companions meet you; and you will gain neither answer nor satisfaction, but a jest, a sneer, or a look of pity."
"It matters not," replied Bernard de Rohan, "it matters not! There are some things that men cannot laugh away! Honour, and courage, and virtue are not columns planted so loosely that a light gale can blow them down; and I will mark his brow with such disgrace that an ocean of laughter and light jests will never wash the stain off again. When I have done that, I will seek my Isabel, and by her own wishes shall our future conduct be guided. You have reasoned like a learned scholar, my good friend; but yet you see you have not converted me to your thoughts, though I will own that it much surprises me to find you have such varied knowledge of courts, and, I should think, of schools also."
"I have of both," replied Corse de Leon: "the one I have seen, though in an humble sphere; the other in my youth I frequented, and gained there knowledge which those who taught me did not know that they communicated. However, I wished not to convince you or to overrule your determination, for that determination is not wrong. I only desired that you should go to its execution with a full knowledge of all that you might meet with. Follow your plan, therefore, as you have laid it down, and in executing it I will not be far from you in case of need. There is no knowing what a bad man may do, and you ride too slightly attended to offer much resistance in case they sought to do you wrong."
"Oh, I fear not, I fear not," replied Bernard de Rohan. "Here, on the soil of France, I have no fear of any acts of violence, such as that from which I suffered in Savoy."
"Have you not seen to-night," said his companion, "have you not seen this night what wrongs are daily done, even here? However, as I have said, I will not be far from you; so, for the present, farewell, and let not daylight see you a lingerer in this dark city."
Thus saying, he turned and left his young companion, who remained for some time plunged in deep thought; and, though the light of bright hope continued still unextinguished before him, mists and clouds came across the flame from time to time, making it wavering, uncertain, and obscure.
END OF VOL. I.
[1] The first time I ever find the word claret used, it is applied to the wine of Avignon.