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

by G. P. R. James

Unmoved by what he considered, rightly, a piece of stage effect, St. Real soon followed, and found the door of the corridor left open; while the servant, who had been suffered to accompany him to the convent, was seen in the little ante-room beyond, speaking with some persons in rich military dresses, with whose faces St. Real was unacquainted. The moment he approached, however, one stepped forth from the rest, and addressed him by his name.

"I am commanded, Monsieur de St. Real, to greet you on the part of his Highness the Duke of Mayenne, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and to inform you that the arrest under which you have suffered, took place without either his knowledge or consent, by a mistake on the part of a body of reitters, who seem to have confounded you in some way with the troops attached to Monsieur de Longueville. I am further directed to conduct you to the presence of his Highness, who will explain to you more at large how these events have occurred. Your own attendants and horses are already prepared below: and, if it suits your convenience, we will instantly set out."

"At once, if it so please you, sir," replied St. Real. "I am so little used to imprisonment, that every minute of it is tedious to me."

Proceeding, therefore, to the door of the ante-chamber, at which stood one of the Dominican friars, St. Real and his companions were led down to the court, and there mounted their horses. As he was turning his rein towards the gate, however, his eye fell upon the form of the Prior, standing at an oriel window above; and, raising his hat, he bowed with all becoming reverence. The Prior spread his hands, and gave his blessing in return, adding--"May God bless thee, my son, and give thee light to see thy way aright!"

On the present occasion, there appeared to be not only dignity, but even sincerity, in his tone. Nor, indeed, did St. Real doubt the purity of his intentions throughout; but, in the wars and factions that had preceded the time of which we now speak, the young noble had, as we have said, acted the part of a looker-on; and thus he had learned many a lesson in the art of appreciating the character of such men as Prior Edmé Bourgoin--men who, devotedly sincere themselves in their attachment to the party they espouse, and convinced by passion's eloquent voice of the justice of their cause, think every means justifiable to attain its objects, or to bring over converts to its tenets. St. Real felt sure that the Prior entertained not a doubt of the rectitude of his own motives, and the propriety of everything he did in behalf of the League; but he felt equally sure, that the Dominican would think right and just a thousand means and stratagems, to obtain his purposes, which he, St. Real, would look upon as base, dishonourable, and even impious. Whatever end, therefore, had been sought by confining him in the Jacobin convent, the effect had been anything rather than increased affection for the League; and, as he rode away from its gates towards the Hotel de Guise, his only reflection was, "Well, if such be the means by which the League is supported, and such the stratagems by which its adherents are gained, I, at least, will not be one of the crowd of fools whereof its followers must be composed."

At the Hotel de Guise a different scene awaited him, and different means of attraction were played off in order to win him to the faction. All that had passed at the Jacobins had apparently been minutely reported to Madame de Montpensier; and, with a profound knowledge of human nature, and a perfect command of art, she at once read the principal points of St. Real's character, and adapted her own behaviour to suit it. The mistakes which she committed, as we shall presently see, were not from misapprehending the traits of his disposition, but from not perceiving their depth.

On alighting from their horses, the young officers who had conducted St. Real from the Dominican convent, led him at once towards the audience chamber of the Duke of Mayenne. At the door, however, they were informed by an attendant that the Duke was busy on matters of some deep importance, but that he would be at leisure in a few minutes. Another attendant then stepped forth to usher him to some waiting-room; and, ere he was aware of it, St. Real was in the presence of two beautiful women,--the Duchess of Guise, and the Duchess of Montpensier,--who appeared busy with the ordinary morning occupations of ladies of that day, and seemed surprised at the intrusion; though it need scarcely be said, that the whole man[oe]uvre had been conducted upon their own positive orders. The attendant, who led the young cavalier thither, seemed also surprised to find that chamber engaged; and, begging St. Real to follow him again, was retiring, with many profound reverences and apologies to the two ladies, when Madame de Montpensier demanded the gentleman's name; and, glancing her eye over his person, with a smile not at all unnatural, added, before the man could answer, that, as all the other chambers were occupied, the stranger might, if he so pleased, remain there till her brother was disengaged, as he did not seem so ferocious a person as to make war upon a bevy of women, though Henry of Valois had shown that even the sacred robe of the church was sometimes no protection.

St. Real's name was then given by the attendant; who, without further question, retired, leaving the young cavalier to play his part with the two artful women in whose society he was placed, as best he might. The Marquis, however, did not play that part ill. Graceful by nature and by education, his manners were embarrassed by no kind of bashfulness; for although his acquaintance with society was but limited, yet there were two feelings in his bosom which gave him ever perfect self-possession without presumption. The first of these feelings was a slight touch of the pride of birth, which taught him, when in company with the high or the proud, never to forget that he was himself sprung from the noblest of the land; the second, was the consciousness of perfect rectitude in every thought, feeling, and purpose. Besides all this, the St. Reals had been, as I have said, from age to age, a chivalrous race; and their representative had strong in his own bosom that species of chivalrous gallantry, which made him look upon woman's weakness as a constant, undeniable claim to deference, to courtesy, and to those small attentions, which give greater pleasure very often than even greater services.

Madame de Montpensier was surprised and pleased; and the Duchess de Guise, perhaps, inwardly determined to add St. Real to her train of admirers. At all events, both bent their efforts, in the first place, to gain him for the League; and the sister of the haughty house of Lorraine pursued her plan with the calm and steady purpose of a great diplomatist. In her communion with the young Marquis, she scrupulously avoided aught of coquetry--she suffered not a touch even of levity to be apparent in her manner--she put a guard upon her tongue and upon her eyes, and suffered not even an idle jest to pass those lips with which such things were so familiar. At first, affecting even a degree of distant coldness, she suffered the softer and more blandishing manners of the Duchess of Guise to smooth away all the difficulties of an accidental introduction; and then, as the conversation proceeded, she affected to become more interested, spoke wisely and cautiously, and assumed the tone of virtue and deep feeling, which she knew would harmonise with his principles; though, if all tales be true, that tone was the most difficult for her to affect.

She soon contrived to discover a fact, of which she seemed to be ignorant till St. Real told her; namely, that he was the cousin of the Count d'Aubin; and then, acting upon one of those vague intuitions, which women are occasionally gifted with in regard to matters of the heart, she turned the conversation suddenly and abruptly to Mademoiselle de Menancourt, and the subject of her detention in Paris. St. Real was taken by surprise: there had been some warring in his bosom too, of late, in regard to the fair girl, who had been the companion of his early youth: it was the only point on which his thoughts were not as free and light as the sunshine on the waters; and, at the name of Eugenie de Menancourt, so suddenly pronounced, the blood mounted for a moment into his cheek, and glowed upon his brow.