"There are circumstances even now," said he, "after a lapse of more than eighteen years, on which I dare not let my thoughts rest. Do not suppose I allude to pains and griefs. Time has softened those; but I speak of the happiness that I enjoyed for a brief space, which, whenever I think of it, awakens every pang in my heart. I had, as I remember to have told you on a former occasion, made my escape from the prison in which I had been confined on the accusation of the greatest villain that ever, I believe, the earth produced. I had prepared everything for my flight into Spain, with all that I held dear on earth--my wife; when, on the very night that it was to have taken place, as I entered the park, I was attacked by four hired bravoes, attached to the villain St. Brie. Resolved to sell my life dearly, I defended myself with desperation, till at length I fell, with a severe wound in my side, and while I was on the ground, received a blow on my head, which effectually stunned me.
"The assassins then carried me down to a stream that ran not far from the spot, and threw me in, as they thought lifeless. But the very plunge in the water recalled my senses; and I was making some faint efforts to swim, when I was drawn out by two of my followers, whom I had left waiting at a cottage below.
"Their approach scared away the assassins; and though so weak that I could not stand, and delirious from the blow on my head, I was put into a litter and borne away to Spain, by my attendants and a friend, who, having brought about my escape from prison, would have risked his own life if he had stayed.
"The news of my death was general; my estates of Bagnols, which could not be sold, were sequestrated and given to the Marquis de St. Brie. I was arraigned and condemned on my nonappearance; and, as I slowly recovered from my wounds, I heard that the last tie between myself and France was broken--my wife was dead. In a former embassy to Madrid, which terminated in the marriage of Anne of Austria to our present king, I had become personally known to King Philip; and it was proposed to me to enter the Spanish service, to which I assented, on the engagement never to be employed against my native country. With a part of the money transmitted beforehand to Saragossa, I bought the small estate of Montenero, and took that name, abandoning the one under which I had known so many misfortunes. I was sent with the forces to New Spain; had many opportunities of distinguishing myself; rose high in station; and amassed, without either avarice or extortion, a large, I may say an immense fortune. But it gave me no happiness--in fact, I had, personally, no use for it. I was both a soldier and somewhat of a cynic, and consequently not very much inclined to waste wealth either in show or in luxury. Still I had a most passionate desire to revisit my native country. Many other circumstances also combined to carry me thither. The hope of reestablishing my character and name, which in the first bitterness of my griefs I had slighted, grew upon me with years, and I directed Arnault, to whom I still paid a salary, to make every inquiry and effort to recover the papers I had lost, offering a reward which might have tempted a prince. No one, I have discovered, knew so well as he did where to find them; and when, after seeing your encounter with the Marquis de St. Brie, I betook myself to Spain, lest I should be discovered before the proofs of my innocence were procured, he not only found them, but sent them to me by your good friend Father Francis of Allurdi, who, as you may remember, lost them on the road."
The manner in which the Count's papers had been lost now instantly flashed across my mind. After my adventure with the gamblers at Luz I remembered to have met with the pretended capuchin as I mounted the stairs. The door of Father Francis's chamber was open, and the papers had been enveloped in the same cover with some pieces of gold. The matter was evident enough. The baffled sharper had indemnified himself for his failure in cheating by a little simple robbery, and having stolen into the good priest's room while he slept, had filched from his baggage the packet, which to the tact of his experienced fingers seemed most valuable. After having made what use he thought proper of the gold, it is probable that, seeing the papers were of some consequence, he had kept them about him, in hope of accident turning them to account, till he was killed in his attempt to murder me, when it may be remembered the papers were found upon him.
I communicated my supposition to the Count, who agreed with me entirely; but my interruption seemed to have acted upon his story much in the same manner that Don Quixote's did upon that of Sancho Panza; for he ceased there, and would not again resume it, saying, with a smile, that he had really little more to tell, except that, anxious to re-establish his fame, he had, through some great interest he possessed in the army, and from the pressing necessity which the government had lately experienced for troops, obtained permission, under his assumed name, to levy a regiment at his own expense, and had commanded it at the battle of the Marfée, the result of which I already knew.
Avoiding Paris, we now approached Bearn, with as long journeys as we could make each day; and oh, what a crowd of thrilling, mingled emotions hurried through my bosom, when, from the hill behind Pau, I again beheld the grand chain of the purple Pyrenees spreading far along the horizon, robed in that magical garment of misty light, which makes them seem something too beautiful for earth! Oh, my native land! my native land! bound to my heart by every sweet association of youth--by all the opening ideas that infancy first receives, welcoming every new impression as a joy--by every glad thought--by every pure bright feeling!--when thou ceasest to be dear, most dear to me, the lamp of memory must be extinguished, and the past all darkness indeed!
From Pau we sent forward a messenger to announce our coming to my father, and the next morning early we set out for Lourdes. I will not attempt to embody in words what I felt during that ride. My sensations were so confused, so sorrowful in some respects, and so painfully joyful in others, that I could not separate them even at the time. Both the Chevalier and myself were silent; and the only words which, I believe, passed between us were, when, on entering Lourdes, I begged him to ride on, while I turned my horse towards the old church of the Assumption, in which stood the tomb of the Counts of Bigorre.
I entered the church--there was no one there; and passing into the little chapel, where the monument stood, I read over some letters that were freshly chiselled in the marble. They recorded the death of my mother; and leaning down my head, I poured upon them the tribute of my heart's best feelings. I remained long there--longer than I had intended; but I found a calm and a consolation in the sad duty that I rendered, which cleared and tranquillized my feelings. As I came out of the church, I found a number of the peasantry near the door, gazing on my beautiful horse, which I had ridden during the last day, and had tied to a cypress while I went in. They all recognised me; but divining the employment in which I had been engaged, they did not speak, but doffing their bonnets, let me depart in silence.
Proceeding somewhat slowly on the road, I suffered the Chevalier to arrive some time before me, certain that my father would understand and appreciate the motives of my delay. Gradually, however, the château with its towers and pinnacles became visible--every old-accustomed object, every well-remembered scene. Yet in the few months of my absence so many great and important events had occurred to me, so many thoughts had hurried through my brain, so many feelings had left their impression on my heart, that I almost wondered to find everything still so much the same; and had it been all in ruins, should have scarcely been surprised, so many years--ay, years! seemed to have elapsed since I beheld it.