"I do not know, my lord the prince," replied Edward, in a tone of a good deal of irritation. "I have been assured it is a perfectly valid marriage; and, I must respectfully add, I shall attempt to prove it so."
"Pshaw!" said Soubise, in a light tone: "we had better not take up hostile positions toward each other." And, turning on his heel, he left the room.
The scene of this conversation was the rector's library at Applethorpe, for Dr. Winthorne had a headache and had retired to rest; and, as soon as the prince was gone, Edward took forth some letters he had received that morning, and, approaching the table where the candles stood, he read them again with an eager look. No French post, to his knowledge, had come in; but the letters were evidently from France, and one, addressed to Clement Tournon, was sent open to him; whilst another,—very short, but in Lucette's own hand,—tied and sealed, came to him direct.
Both were of a date which surprised and alarmed the young Englishman,—that from Clement Tournon dated only two days after he had left Rochelle, that from Lucette fully seven weeks previous. The letter of the good goldsmith which enclosed the other was somewhat long. It told Edward a great deal about Rochelle, and contained much matter that need not be recapitulated; but the point of greatest interest was his mention of Lucette. "Probably," he said, "she has told you in the enclosed all she has told to me, and therefore I need not repeat it. She calls upon us both for aid, and, as far as a feeble old man can give it, she shall not want it. But alas, my dear Edward, it is very wrongly that men attribute power to wealth. I have proved it, and know that there are times when heaps of gold will not buy a loaf of bread. However, if my last livre will help that dear girl, she shall have it. In the mean time, do you, young, active, enterprising as you are, follow her directions to the letter. You can do more than I can. I set out this night; but, considering that you may want money for so long and expensive a journey, I have left such directions that all your drafts upon me will be paid to any reasonable amount. In a month I will be in Huntingdon, where I am assured by one I can depend upon that my presence is required for your benefit."
Lucette's letter was but a note.
"Fly to me, my beloved husband." So it said. "If you love your poor Lucette as she loves you, come to me without the delay of an hour. There are people here who want to take me away and carry me to France. They have no authority from Monsieur de Rohan,—otherwise, as hard as he is, I should feel myself secure,—but they have great power with the rulers of this republic, it seems. Madame de la Cour is an excellent woman, but weak and timid. She says that she dares not resist them, that she is but a poor exile herself, and that when they are ready to go she must yield me up to them. I would rather die were it not that, when I think of you, hope still comes in to give me a ray of light which all these sorrows and troubles cannot darken. Oh, come soon to your Lucette."
Edward looked at the date again. There was no time to be lost, if he were not already too late; and at once he determined on his course. The two years during which he had promised not to seek Lucette were nearly at an end. The words of Monsieur de Soubise had given him no encouragement to wait for the consent of her family: the only course was to make her his own irrevocably, then let them scoff at the marriage between them if they would. He would go to Richelieu, he thought; he would lay before him the letters he had received; he would beseech the cardinal to free him for the few short weeks that remained from the promise he had made, and to speed him to Venice with the power which only he possessed. Once side by side with his dear little bride, he thought, it would not be in the power of worlds to tear them apart.
The determined and impetuous spirit roused itself; recent success had refreshed hope; he had found more money waiting for him than he expected, so that none of the small material obstacles which so frequently trip up eagerness were present; and he determined to set out that very night.
Not more than half an hour was occupied in his preparations, and then he went to Dr. Winthorne's room and knocked at the door. After the second knock a somewhat testy voice told him to come in, and there he remained for a full hour in earnest conversation. Whatever took place, nothing Dr. Winthorne said induced him to alter his resolution; but about midnight he and Pierrot mounted in the court-yard and set out for London.
Let us pass over all the little impediments of the road,—the horse-shoes and the blacksmiths, and the trouble about a pass from Dover to Calais, which, as the relations between France and England had become much more amicable, presented no great difficulties after all,—and let us carry Edward at once to the gates of Paris, where the gay and glittering crowd was as dense and perhaps more brilliant in those days than it is in ours. The young man's brain felt almost confused at the numbers before his eyes and the whirling rapidity of every thing around him. As he knew nothing of the town, he had to ask his way to an inn which had been recommended to him, and met with all the urbanity and real good-humor which have always distinguished the Parisian population.