One in a Thousand; or, The Days of Henri Quatre

by G. P. R. James

"And so do I, lady," replied the man. "I myself heard you command him not to show himself in the sight of the Count d'Aubin, and to my certain knowledge he visited him alone in his chamber."

"Indeed!" said Beatrice, thoughtfully; "indeed! That may mean much! But have him watched, without making it apparent. Quick, Joachim! You, at least, I can trust."

"You may, dear lady!" replied the old man, laying his hand upon his breast; and then, bowing low, he left Beatrice to long, deep, anxious thought.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

There be many hearts that, in the full fruition and delight of what they have obtained by evil means, know not remorse, and taste such happiness as gratified passion can bestow. There be also those firm and constant hearts which in the midst of trouble and adversity shake off one half of calamity's heavy load by the strength of conscious virtue and integrity; and there be some so dull and so obtuse, as, under any circumstances, not to see and appreciate the worst portion of their fate. But the curse of curses, the deepest earthly retribution that can be poured upon the head of the wicked, is to find their schemes frustrated, and their desires disappointed, by the very evil means which they have taken to accomplish them. Such was the case of Philip d'Aubin at the moment he left Beatrice of Ferrara; but passion, and mortified vanity, and angry pride, combined to support him for the time, and to shut his eyes to the stinging certainty that his own vices had produced his own misfortune.

For an instant he gazed after the fair girl he had lost for ever, as she turned from him in beautiful disdain; and he felt tempted to follow her, and casting himself once more at her feet, to acknowledge his errors, and throw away his faults in repentance. But with her anger there had mingled a look of scorn, against which the worst weakness of his nature rose in arms. Her indignation, her reproaches, her wrath, he could have borne, but the contempt that curled her lip roused vanity against repentance; and setting his teeth firm, he muttered "Never! never!" and took another path to the chateau. Passing hastily to the apartments which he had occupied, he bade the servant that he found in waiting, summon the maître d'hôtel to his presence, and questioned him on his arrival in regard to what part of the baggage with which he had joined the army of the League at Ivry had been brought thither from the field, and where were the soldiers and attendants who accompanied him.

"Neither baggage nor attendants of your own followed you here, sir," replied the man. "You were carried off from the field insensible by four or five of my lady's horsemen, and came hither still in your buff-coat and part of your broken armour. The purse which was on your person, sir, and its contents, are in that closet, if you have not taken it. Your horse is well, and in the stable; but your troops and your attendants were all dispersed; nor have we heard aught of any of them, except that some found their way to the Chateau d'Aubin; for which, and for your lands in Maine, we learn his majesty the king, at the request of Monsieur de St. Real, has granted an immunity, lest they should be plundered in the war."

There was a dryness in the man's tone that displeased the Count d'Aubin; and eyeing him with a somewhat frowning brow, he said, "Well, then, I will go forth from your lady's dwelling as I entered it, alone. Order my horse to be saddled: doubtless a countryman can easily be hired to guide me on my way to my own lands. How far is it hence to Vibraye or La Ferte?"

"Some thirty leagues, sir, by the road," replied the maître d'hôtel; "but if you cross through the woods and by the hills--where the way is not bad--the distance is hardly more than half as much."

"Well, then," said D'Aubin, "I will take the shortest; seek me a guide;" and while the man was gone upon that errand, he walked up and down the room with his hands clasped, and his eyes bent upon the floor. Even then his better spirit whispered that it was not yet too late; but the fiend rose against such counsel, and setting his teeth hard, he took his purse from the spot where it had been placed, and descended to the court-yard. His horse was already prepared; and one or two of the innumerable retainers that thronged a great mansion in those days were loitering about below. The maître d'hôtel returned in a few moments with a guide, riding on one of the small horses of the country, and D'Aubin, putting his foot in the stirrup, slowly mounted his charger. As he did so, he ran his eye over the many small windows of the building; but nothing like a female face was to be seen at any of them; and, turning to the attendants who stood around, somewhat marvelling to see him thus depart alone and unnoticed, after all that had lately passed, he bestowed upon them half the contents of his purse, and then, with a slow pace and frowning brow, rode through the gates into the country beyond.