In which De Blenau finds that he has got the rod in his own hand, and how he uses it; together with a curious account of a tremendous combat and glorious victory.
ICAN easily imagine myself, and I dare say the reader will not find much difficulty in fancying, that the Count de Blenau suffered not a little inquietude while he remained in uncertainty respecting Pauline’s free exit from the Bastille.
Take and draw him, as Sterne did his captive. See him walking up and down the chamber with the anxiety of doubt upon his brow and in his heart, listening for every sound in the court-yard, catching the footstep of the sentinel at his door, and fancying it the return of the Governor,—hope struggling against fear, and fear remaining victor,—conjuring up a thousand wild, improbable events, and missing the true one; and, in short, making his bosom a hell wherein to torment his own heart.
Thus did Claude de Blenau, during that lapse of time which the Governor might reasonably be supposed to be occupied in the duties of his office. But when a longer time passed, and still no news arrived of Pauline’s escape, the uncertainty became too great for mortal endurance; and he was about to risk all, by descending into the court through the turret, when the challenge of the sentinel announced the approach of some one, and in the next moment the Governor entered the room, his pale features flushed with anger, and his lip quivering with ill-subdued rage.
“Monsieur de Blenau!” said he, in a tone that he had never before presumed to use towards his wealthy prisoner, “here is something wrong. There has been a woman in the prison to-night, passing for that rascal Woodman’s daughter: and I am given to understand, that she has brought either letter or message to you. But I will ascertain the truth—By Heaven! I will ascertain the truth!”
“Have you detained her, then?” exclaimed De Blenau, losing all caution in his fears for Pauline.
“Oh, ho! Monsieur le Comte,” said the Governor, fixing on him his keen and angry eye; “then you do know that she has been here? But do you know, Sir, that it may cost me my head?”
“Very possibly, if you tell any body,” replied De Blenau; who by this time had recovered his self-possession, and had, upon reconsideration, drawn from the Governor’s speech a different conclusion from that which he had formed at first; feeling sure, that if Pauline had not escaped, his anger would have taken a calmer form. “Listen to me, Sir Governor,” continued he firmly, after having determined in his own mind the line of conduct which he ought to pursue: “let us deal straightforwardly towards each other, and like friends as we have hitherto done. We are both in some degree in each other’s power. On your part, do not attempt to entrap me into any acknowledgment, and I will show you that I will not make use of any advantage you may have given me——”
“I do not understand your meaning, Sir,” cried the Governor, still angrily: “I have given you no advantage. By Heaven! I will have the apartment searched;—ay, Sir, and your person too.”
“Will you so?” replied De Blenau, coolly drawing from his bosom the Queen’s billet, and approaching the edge to the lamp so that it caught fire. The Governor started forward to seize it; but the strong arm of the Count held him at a distance, till the few lines the Queen had written were irretrievably destroyed; and then freeing him from his grasp, he pointed to a chair, saying, “Now, Monsieur le Gouverneur, sit down and listen to a few words of common sense.” The Governor placed himself in the chair with a look of bitter malignity; but this softened down gradually into an expression of thoughtful cunning, as De Blenau proceeded—“Thus stands the case,” said the Count; “I was committed to your charge, I think, with positive orders not to allow me communication with any person whatsoever—was it not so?” The Governor assented: “It so happened, however,” continued the Count with a smile, “that at our very first interview, you conceived a friendship for me of the most liberal and disinterested nature,” (the Governor bit his lip,) “a sort of love at first sight; and, for the sake of my accommodation, you not only broke through the positive commands of the Cardinal Prime Minister, in suffering me once to have communication with another person, but allowed such to take place at all times, according to my pleasure; and also took especial pains to procure the attendance of the person I wished, paying him with my money, for which, and other excellent purposes, you have, within the space of six days, received from me upwards of one thousand crowns.”