It gave me some pain to hear that Achilles had now positively informed Arnault that my hand had slain his son. Helen could never be mine; I felt it but too bitterly, as the dreams which the astrologer's prediction had suggested died away in my bosom--and yet I shrank from the idea of her knowing, that he whom she had loved was the murderer of her brother. I could not, however, blame Achilles for what he had done. The name of Helen had never been mentioned between us; and when I thought that she was his sister--the sister of my own servant, though it changed no feeling in my breast towards her--though it left her individually lovely, and excellent, and graceful as ever in my eyes, yet it gave new strength to the vow I had made to obey my mother's last injunctions, by adding another to the objections which she would have had to that alliance. The conviction that we were fated never to be united took firm possession of my mind. Destiny seemed willing to spare me even the pain of faint hopes, by piling up obstacle on obstacle between us; but I resolved that, if I might never call her I loved my own, I would give the place which she had filled in my heart to no other. I would live solitary and unbound by those ties which she alone could have rendered delightful. I would pass through life without the touch of kindred or of wedded love, and go down to the grave the last of my race and name.
Such were my resolutions; and, variable and light as my character was in some degree, I believe that I should have kept them--ay! notwithstanding the quick and ardent blood of youth, and my own proneness to passion and excitement.
In the course of the morning, I visited Monsieur de Retz; and, according to the commands of Monsieur le Comte, we mutually communicated the steps we had taken--though I believe De Retz informed me of the success which had attended his negotiations, more to force me into a return of confidence than for any other reason.
"From the letter which Monsieur de Cramail slipped into my hand yesterday," said he, "as well as from what he told me vivâ voce, I can now safely say the Bastille is our own. Indeed, it is wonderful with what facility this party of prisoners dispose of their place of confinement; but the Count tells me here, that he has won the officers of the garrison, and the officers have won the soldiers--that, in short, all hearts are for Monsieur le Comte, and that it only wants a first success to make all hands for him too. Oh, my dear De l'Orme," he burst forth, "what a wonderful thing is that same word success! But once attach it to a man's name, and you shall have all the world kneel to serve him, and laud him to the skies--let him but fail, and the whole pack will be upon him, like a herd of hungry wolves. Give me the man that, while success is doubtful, stands my friend, who views my actions and my worth by their own intrinsic merit, and pins not his faith upon that great impostor success, whose favour or whose frown depends not on ourselves but circumstance."
As soon as it was dusk, I went alone to my little lodging in the Rue des Prêtres St. Paul; and, after waiting for about half an hour, received the visit of my two most respectable followers, Combalet and Jacques Mocqueur. As they entered, I saw by a certain smirking air of satisfaction on their countenances, that they had been successful in their negotiation, which they soon informed me was the case.
"We have permission from his most acuminated majesty of the Huns," said Jacques Mocqueur, "to introduce Monseigneur le Comte de l'Orme into his famous palace called Château Escroc, and to naturalise him a Hun, upon the reasonable condition of his submitting to be blindfolded, as he is conducted through the various passes of the country of the Huns."
"In regard to being blindfolded," replied I, "I have not the least objection, as it is but natural you should take means to prevent your secret resorts from being betrayed; but I must first understand clearly what you mean by my being naturalised a Hun, before I submit to any such proceeding."
"'Tis a most august and solemn proceeding," replied Combalet de Carignau, "and many of the first nobility have submitted to it without blushing."
"His infirmity! his infirmity!" cried Jacques Mocqueur. "I pray your lordship would not forget his infirmity! Not a noble in these or former times ever thought of submitting to the ceremony but yourself;--but after all, it is but a ceremony, which binds you to nothing."
"If that be the case," replied I, "I will go; but be so good as to remark, that I have nothing upon my person but the ten gold pieces which I have promised your worthy monarch; and I beg that you will give notice thereof to the worthy corporation I am going to meet, lest the devil of cupidity should tempt them to play me foul."