Like their own tear,
Because so long divided from the sphere.
Restless it rolls and insecure,
Trembling lest it grow impure,
Till the warm sun pities its pain,
And to the skies exhales it back again."
Notwithstanding the words of his brother, and the impatience which Gaspar more than once displayed, Charles of Montsoreau changed his conduct not in the slightest degree towards Marie de Clairvaut. He was kind, attentive, courteous, evidently fond of her conversation and society; and more than once, when he was seated at some distance, while she was talking with others, she accidentally caught his eyes fixed upon her with a calm, intense, and melancholy gaze, which interested and even confused her.
The conduct of the elder brother, however, gave her some degree of pain. He was always perfectly courteous and kind, indeed, but there was a warmth and an eagerness in his manner which alarmed her. She was afraid of fancying herself beloved when she was not; she was afraid of having to reproach herself with vanity and idle conceit, and yet a thousand times a day she wished she had not stayed at the château of Montsoreau; for she saw evidently that she had been the cause of pain, and she feared that she might be the cause of more. In one thing, however, she could not well be mistaken, which was, that the Marquis found frequent pretexts, and not the most ingenuous ones either, for inducing his brother to absent himself from the château. Charles yielded readily; but Marie de Clairvaut saw that it was not willingly; and once, when he consented to go to a town at some distance, which was proposed to him with scarcely any reasonable cause, she saw a slight smile come upon his lips, but so sad, so melancholy, that it made her heart ache.
In the mean while the weather had turned finer; the frost had disappeared; some of the bright days which occasionally cheer the end of February had come in; the country immediately around was ascertained to be in a state of perfect tranquillity; and Marie readily consented to ride and walk daily through the environs, knowing that on these excursions, accompanied by her woman and Madame de Saulny, she was thrown less into the society of Gaspar of Montsoreau than while sitting alone at the château. On one occasion of this kind, when the morning was peculiarly bright, and the day happy and genial, it had been proposed to bring forth the falcons, who had not stirred their wings for many a day, as several herons had been heard of by the river since the thaw had come on.
An hour or two before the appointed time, however, intelligence was brought to the castle, which proved afterwards to be fabricated, that a neighbouring baron of small importance had gone over to the party of the King of Navarre.
Gaspar of Montsoreau seized the pretext, and endeavoured to persuade his brother to visit that part of the country, and ascertain the facts. But, for once, Charles of Montsoreau positively refused, and his air was so grave and stern, that his brother did not press it farther.
Gaspar was out of temper, however, and he showed it; and finding that Charles kept close to the bridle rein of Marie de Clairvaut, he affected to ride at a distance, with a discontented air, giving directions to the falconers, and venting his impatience in harsh and angry words when any little accident or mistake took place. No heron was found for nearly an hour; and he was in the act of declaring that it was useless to try any farther, and they had better go back, when a bird was started from the long reeds, and the jesses of the falcons were slipped.
Marie de Clairvaut had been conversing throughout the morning with Charles of Montsoreau--conversing on subjects and in a manner which drew the ties of friendship and intimacy nearer round the heart--and it so happened that the moment before the heron rose, she remarked, in a low tone, "Your brother seems angry this morning; something seems to have displeased him."
"Oh, dear lady," replied the young nobleman, "I pray you do not judge of Gaspar by what you have seen within these last few days. I fear that he is either ill, or more deeply grieved about something than he suffers me to know. He is of a kindly, affectionate, and gentle disposition, lady, and from childhood up to manhood, I can most solemnly assure you, I never yet saw his temper ruffled as it seems now."