"Not one word more?" he said, advancing as if to take her hand. "Not one word more?"
"No," replied Eugenie, shrinking back from him with involuntary horror. "No, I have nothing more to say."
D'Aubin turned on his heel, mortified to the very heart by the personal dislike which he marked with the keen eyes of wounded vanity: and without another word, left Eugenie to solitude, and to feelings very nearly akin to despair.
CHAPTER XXI.
A long summer's day was over, and nothing remained of its splendour but a fading tint of purple in the deep blue sky; while Venus and the moon came hand in hand together above the trees, as if to divide between their bright but gentle rule the tranquil kingdom of the night. The royal camp no longer sounded with the clang of arms or the tramp of marching men; the man[oe]uvres for the day were over; and the soldiery, quartered in the village of St. Cloud itself, had left the streets vacant, while they sought consolation after all the labours and exertions of the morning, in the gay evening meal and often replenished flask. The body of the dead king lay--almost forgotten, by those who had fed upon his bounty and encouraged his vices,--in the house where the hand of the assassin had struck him; and lights were just beginning to twinkle in the windows of the old chateau where the new monarch had fixed his abode the night after his accession to the tottering throne of France.
Such was the state of St. Cloud, when, on the third evening after the death of Henry III. a party of horsemen paused at the gates of this park, and, dismounting there, advanced towards the old palace on foot. The guards at the gates saluted as the cavaliers passed; and Henry IV. who walked a step before the rest, mused as he proceeded, leading the way with a slow step, and sometimes gazing up thoughtfully at the blue twilight sky, sometimes fixing his eyes upon the gravel of the path, absorbed in deep and silent reverie. At length, turning to those who accompanied him, he said, "Our arrangements, I think, are all now complete, and we may begin our march to-morrow. I have to thank you, Rosny, for Meulan; and you, St. Real, for as fine a body of men as ever a loyal heart brought to the aid of a poor king. D'Aumont has, I suppose, already marched to see what friends he can raise for us in the east; but I much fear that our messenger has never reached our worthy cousin, the Count de Soissons! However, it matters not, as, by the reports from Normandy, we shall most likely change our plans. Still I could wish, De Rosny, that you would write a few lines to the Count, bidding him advance as fast as possible upon Mans, and then regulate his movements by what he hears of ours; remembering, however, that the great object is to bring me men and money as speedily as possible. Let the letter be copied six times, and I will come and sign each ere half-an-hour be over. Sent by six separate messengers, one of these letters can scarcely fail to reach him. You, St. Real, look well to your quarters; for these Leaguers must know by this time how much our forces are diminished, and may strive for some advantage. Fare you well! Good night! Quick! up to the chateau, Rosny, and take all these others with you. I would fain have half-an-hour's quiet thought, amidst these moonlight walks, where so many of my ancestors have wandered, ere I quit them, perhaps for ever, after having been their sovereign but for a day!"
"Were it not better, your Majesty," replied De Rosny, in a low voice, "to keep a few of your attendants around you? Remember that the dagger of the assassin found your predecessor in the midst of his army and his court, and that treason has been so evident amongst those by whom we are surrounded, that we cannot tell whose hand may next be armed against his monarch's life."
"I fear not, De Rosny," replied Henry, "I fear not! If it be the will of God that I fall, the weapon will find me in the midst of guards and precautions, as easily as alone in the open field. Nor do fear the treason you seem to apprehend. Our camp has lately been like a butt of new made wine, in one general ferment, where all was troubled and unpalatable; but that very ferment, I trust, has worked it clear, and I would not be the man to fancy myself continually surrounded by secret enemies--no, not if I could thereby spin out this mortal thread for centuries beyond the length of ordinary lives! No, no! De Rosny, I fear not, and I would be alone."
The last words were spoken in a tone that left no reply; and De Rosny, beckoning to those who followed, walked on directly towards the chateau, while Henry turned into one of the lateral alleys, down which the moonlight was streaming in full effulgence. One or two of the attendants lingered for a moment, as if still unwilling to leave the king; but Henry waved his hand for them to depart, and then walked on.
There are periods in the life of every man, when so many events are crowding into the short space of a few days, when such manifold calls upon attention, and such deep and important interests for consideration load the wings of every minute as it flies, that time is wanting for the recollection, for the thought, for even the feeling, of how the mighty changes which are going on around us affect our own individual nature, and work upon our being and our fate. At those periods, to every thinking and intellectual mind, comes a thirst and a longing for even a brief space of calm reflection; and we gladly seize the very first opportunity of withdrawing our thoughts from the wearying necessity of directing our actions on the instant, and give them up for a time to that consideration of remote prospects and general feelings, which, after the energetic activity lately required of us, is comparatively a state of tranquillity and repose.