While I sat thinking upon death, and all the cold and cheerless ideas thereunto associated, a gay flourish of trumpets was borne upon the wind, jarring most painfully with all my feelings. The sounds came nearer, mingled with shout, and acclamation, and applause: and then, the evident arrival of some regiments of cavalry took place in the court of the château where I was confined; for there was the clanging of the hoofs, and jingling of the arms, and the cries of the commanders, and all the outcry and fracas of military discipline. During the whole day the noise continued with little intermission; and though I would have given worlds for quiet, quiet was not to be had.
It was about four o'clock, and the rays of the summer sun were gleaming through the high windows of my prison, kindling in my bosom the warm remembrance of nature's free and beautiful face, when the gaoler entered, and told me I must follow him. I rose; and being placed between two soldiers, I was marched through several of the long passages of the château, as fast as my irons would permit, to a small anteroom, where, being made to sit down upon a bench, I was soon after joined by one or two others, manacled like myself.
Here we were kept for some time, with guards at all the doors, and the gaoler standing by our side, without affording a look or word to any one. At length, however, the sound of persons speaking approached the door of what seemed the inner chamber; and, as it opened, I heard a voice which, however unexpected there, I was sure was that of the Chevalier de Montenero.
The sound increased as he came nearer, and I could distinctly hear him say, "Your Eminence has promised me already as much as I could desire--the enjoyment of my fortune, and my station in France. All else that you could properly grant, or I could reasonably request, depends, unfortunately, upon papers which are, I am afraid, lost irrecoverably; and I have only to thank you for your patient hearing, and the justice you have done me."
As he spoke, the Chevalier came forward, accompanied, as far as the door, by Richelieu himself, who seemed to do him the high honour of conducting him to the threshold of his cabinet.
"Monsieur le Comte de Bagnols," said the minister, to my infinite surprise and astonishment, addressing by this name him whom I had always been taught to call the Chevalier de Montenero, "what I have done is nothing but what you had a right to claim. Your splendid actions in this last campaign prove too well your attachment to the king and the state, for me to refuse you every countenance and protection in my power to give; and believe me, if the letters, and the marriage certificate you allude to, can by any means be recovered, everything that you could wish will be rendered easy. In the meantime, the King's gratitude stops not here. We look upon the safety of the greater part of the army to have depended upon your exertions, and we must think of some means of rewarding it in the manner most gratifying to yourself. You will not leave Mezières for a few days--before then you shall hear from me."
The Chevalier, or rather the Count de Bagnols, took his leave and withdrew, without casting his eyes upon any of the wretched beings that lined the side of the anteroom. My heart swelled, but I said nothing; and, in a moment after, was myself called to the presence of the minister.
He was seating himself when I entered; and as he turned round upon me, very, very different was the aspect of his dark tremendous brow from that which I had beheld on another occasion. The heavy contemplative frown, the stern piercing eye, the stiff compressed lip, the blaze of soul that shone out in his glance, yet the icy rigidity of his features, all seemed to say, "I am fire in my enmities, and marble in my determinations;" and well spoke the inflexible spirit that dwelt within. When I thought over the easy flowing conversation which had passed between me and that very man, his unbent brow, his calm philosophising air, and compared the whole with the iron expression of the countenance before me, I could scarcely believe it had been aught but a dream.
"Well, Sir Count de l'Orme," said he, in a deep hollow tone of voice, "you have chosen your party. You have abandoned an honourable path that was open to you. Of your own free-will you attached yourself to treason and to traitors, and you now taste the consequences."
"Your Eminence," replied I, calmly--for my mind was made up to the worst--"is too generous, I am sure, to triumph over the fallen."