De L'Orme. / The Works of G. P. R. James, Esq., Vol. XVI.

by G. P. R. James

I was awoke abruptly by some one touching me; and, starting up, I was caught in the arms of the Chevalier de Montenero--I should say, the Count de Bagnols.

"A thousand thousand thanks!" cried he, "my friend, my benefactor, my more than son! Oh, Louis! no words can speak the joy, the satisfaction, the relief your letter has given me. Not alone from the packet it contained--though I have been seeking it for long and weary years, as the only means of recovering rank, and station, and honour, and casting back his accusation on the villain's head who wronged me--but more, far more, from the proofs it brought forward, that the man on whose high principles I had staked my estimate of human nature for ever, was not the villain I had been misled to believe."

The Count was here interrupted by the gaoler, who had remained standing near the door, with his immense bunch of keys still in his hands. "Come, come!" grumbled he, in his dogged, surly tone, "you can tell him all that, Monsieur le Comte, in another place. As you have brought the youth's pardon, and the order for his release, you had better take him away: for I never met one yet who liked to stay here, and I want to do the room. We shan't be long without some other, thank God!"

The words I heard fell dully upon my sense. I heard the sound, and it startled me; but I received from it no defined meaning that I could understand and believe.

"It is true, Louis! it is true!" said the Count de Bagnols; "your pardon is granted, and you are no longer a prisoner. You owe it not alone to me, however; the Duke of Bouillon made your enlargement and security one of the several points without which he would not lay down his arms. I applied to the Cardinal at the very moment that that point was about to be refused. Two concurring motives produced more than one could have done. He yielded, and you are free; but upon the condition that you instantly return to Bearn, and do not pass its boundaries for one year. Peace is now concluded. To-morrow the Duke of Bouillon will be here, and in the evening I myself set out for Bigorre. You shall journey with me, and I shall have the happiness of restoring you to the arms of your father."

"Willingly," replied I; "but before I go, I must see the Maréchal de Chatillon, and inquire after Helen Arnault. I left her in circumstances which required explanation. See her I know I cannot, for she was going to leave Paris; but I must and will ascertain where she is, and how I may hear of her. Monsieur de Bagnols, you have yourself felt, and can, I trust, understand my feelings."

"I do, my dear Louis," replied he: "but to see the Maréchal is quite impossible: for he is at this time nearly a hundred leagues from Mezières. But leave all that to me. I know him well, and shall have to send a messenger to him myself: therefore I may safely promise you, that by the time you arrive at Lourdes, you shall have every information you desire."

This was hardly satisfactory; but I had no other course to pursue, and therefore yielded, though it cost me no small pain once more to quit the vicinity of her I still loved so unabatedly, without being able to satisfy myself of her fate. I have bound myself to tell both the good and the evil in my history, and I must here acknowledge, that a gleam of satisfaction came over my mind, when I thought that the youth whom I had seen with the Maréchal de Chatillon, and to whom I hesitated not to attribute the quality of Helen's lover, could no longer pursue his suit. It was a selfish satisfaction enough, I am afraid, and I reproached myself for it as soon as I felt it. It was a base, ungenerous triumph, I thought, over the dead, and I would fain have scourged it from my breast; but it was in vain--I could not chase it away. It was there in my heart a part of my humanity, and I found it impossible to banish it from my bosom.

From the prison the Count conducted me to his dwelling; and after a night's delightful repose--repose of mind and of feeling, as well as of the mere body--I rose the next morning, refreshed, and disposed to view my future prospects with a brighter eye than I had even done the night before. Still Helen formed a part of them all. Reality in this respect lent hope no aid; for I remembered my mental promise to my mother, and I felt that I could not--that I dared not break it. It was a contract between me and the dead, from which no living voice could absolve me. Yet still I hoped; and, a dreamer from my infancy both by nature and habit, I never felt the gay but baseless architecture of my fancy rise more splendidly than when Hope, without any earthly basis, but supported alone by her own pinions, commanded the work, and her willing slave, Imagination, found bright materials in the air.

Before departing from Mezières, I begged the Count de Bagnols to send a messenger to Sedan, desiring little Achilles to join me at the Château de l'Orme; and as he had in his hands upwards of a thousand crowns belonging to me, I doubted not that, armed with that magic wand, money, he would get through his journey quite as well, though somewhat more slowly, than any of the ancient magicians, either mounted on hippogriff, or enthroned in flying chair.