Lord Montagu's Page: An Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

With the cuirass and the scarlet robe Richelieu seemed to have cast off the heavy cares and hard sternness of the day, and with the satin pantoufles to have put on the ease and relaxation of spirit which no man enjoyed more intensely than himself, if we may believe the stray admissions even of his enemies and calumniators. It is greatly to be regretted that Bois Robert did not write his history; for, although we might not have had a true picture of his many-sided character, we should have had another,—a more amiable and perhaps even a grander view of the man than any historian has given us, except by accident.

He had sent for Edward Langdale about half an hour before the time he had appointed. His orders for the night and the following morning had been given; his letters and despatches had been written or dictated; audiences had been afforded to several gentlemen on business; even the minute details of his household had been attended to; and he had sat down for that repose of the mind which can only be obtained by complete change of subject. The young Englishman had pleased him from the first, and, without knowing it, had flattered his vanity on its most sensitive point,—for Richelieu had his weaknesses as well as other men. Where, indeed, is there any one who can boast that he is without either the hair of the Hebrew giant or the heel of the Greek demigod? The cardinal knew, too,—had, indeed, very soon perceived,—that Edward's mind had been early imbued, in an irregular manner, perhaps, but to a deep degree, with that sort of graceful literature of which he was himself most fond, and that he was full of that refined and delicate taste on which he prided himself. He was the very person Richelieu sought for the social converse of hours which were unfilled by any weighty employment,—hours which he would not give to his military officers, because his plans were all formed, his resolutions were all taken, and he neither sought advice nor remonstrance; hours which he would not bestow upon his almoner nor upon his chaplain, for he did not wish to sleep just then; hours that he wished to pass very lightly indeed, as a wise man takes nothing very heavy for his supper before he goes to bed.

"Welcome, Monsieur Langdale," said the great minister, as Edward followed a servant into the room. "I have not had time to welcome you yet; for, in the first place, I did not recognise you, your beard having grown into somewhat leonine proportions. Since then I have not had time; for I have been engaged with what the people of this world call weighty business,—weighty enough, God wot, for those who have to handle it, and which somewhat tries the arm that has to wield it. But let us leave that and talk of other things. How have you fared? Poor Lord Montagu, your friend, could not keep his nose out of a rat-trap; and yet it was badly baited."

"He would not have gone near the wires if he had taken my advice," said Edward. "I ventured to guess, not at the designs of your Eminence, but at your probable conduct; and I warned Lord Montagu not to come too close to you."

"Perhaps I have let you see me too close, young gentleman," said Richelieu, with a good-humored smile. "And yet it is probable bable you served me when you did not intend it. There be some men, my young friend, and they very sensible men too, who will take no advice which comes from younger and less experienced persons; but yet things, as the Scripture says,—I speak with all reverence,—are often revealed to the poor and simple and are hidden from the wise and great. Now, I have a strong idea that you know more of Cardinal Richelieu, poor Bishop of Luçon, than that great diplomatist, Lord Montagu."

Edward shook his head. "I cannot pretend to do that," he said; "but my lord thought he might venture to pass over a quarter of a league of French territory, when some time before you had suffered him to roam for weeks over the whole of France."

"He had not got the papers then," said Richelieu, with a short laugh. "I did not want Montagu's skin: it was his letters and his papers that I arrested; and for that matter one quarter of a league is as good as a thousand miles. As for yourself, you have told me something new to-day. I heard of you at Aix, where your hot spirit had brought some damage on your skin. You had been wounded, I mean to say,—by your own brother I believe they told me. Very foolish, Master Edward Langdale, to fight with one's own brother!"

"I did not fight with him, may it please your Eminence. My sword was never drawn."

"Ha!" said the cardinal. "That is well. But then I heard of your making a hole in another man's skin. How was that?"

"Why, I told the two men you sent after me, sir," replied Edward, frankly, "that I would shoot them if they kept dogging me; and I always hold to my word. They not only kept dogging me, but betrayed my lord into the hands of Monsieur de Bourbonne; and so I shot one of them. I am sorry to say I had not time to shoot the other, or probably your Eminence would not have heard so much of me as you have done."