According to the costume of her country, Louise had worn upon the day of her death two large white pockets above the jupe of red serge. These were still attached to the black velvet bodice which she displayed in honour of her marriage with the Norman, and contained a variety of miscellaneous articles, amongst which were several epistles from her husband to herself in the days of their courtship, which showed De Blenau that she had been employed as a spy upon Pauline and Madame de Beaumont ever since their arrival at St. Germain’s: added to these was a certificate of marriage between Jean Baptiste Marteville and Louise Thibault, celebrated in the chapel of the Palais Cardinal, by François Giraud. All this led De Blenau to conclude, that he had been misled in regard to the cause of Pauline’s absence from St. Germain’s; and he accordingly proceeded to the little bourg of Senecy on his return towards Troyes, making his men bear thither the body of Louise with as much decent solemnity as the circumstances admitted. Having here intrusted to the good Curé of the place the charge of the funeral, and given two sums for the very different purposes of promoting the discovery of the murderer and buying a hundred masses for the soul of the deceased, De Blenau pursued his journey, and arrived at Troyes before night.
Putting up this time at the hotel of the Grand Soleil, De Blenau soon acquired sufficient information to confirm him in the opinion that the Norman had been accompanied by Louise alone; but at the same time, the accounts which the people of the house gave respecting the kindness and affection that Marteville had shown his bride, greatly shook the suspicions which had been entertained against him by De Blenau, who, unacquainted with any such character as that of the Norman, knew not that there are men who, like tigers when unurged by hunger, will play with their victims before they destroy them.
The next morning early, all was prepared for the departure of De Blenau, on his return to Moulins, when his farther progress in that direction was arrested by the arrival of Henry de La Mothe, his page, accompanied by one of the King’s couriers, who immediately presented to the Count two packets, of which he had been the bearer from St. Germain’s. The first of these seemed, from the superscription, to be a common official document; but the second attracted all his attention, and made his heart beat high by presenting to him the genuine hand-writing of Pauline de Beaumont. Without meaning any offence to Royalty, whose insignia were impressed upon the seal of the other packet, De Blenau eagerly cut the silk which fastened the billet from Pauline. It contained only a few lines, but these were quite sufficient to give renewed happiness to the heart of him who read it. She had just heard, she said, that the King’s messenger was about to set out, and though they hardly gave her time to fold her paper, yet she would not let any one be before her in congratulating him on his freedom to direct his course wheresoever he pleased. She could not divine, she continued, whether his choice would lead him to St. Germain’s, but if it did, perhaps he might be treated to the history of an errant Demoiselle, who had suffered various adventures in endeavouring to liberate her true Knight from prison.
De Blenau read it over again, and then turned to the other paper, which merely notified that the King, contented with his loyal and peaceable behaviour while relegué in Bourbon, had been graciously pleased to relieve him from the restrictions under which he had been placed for his own benefit and the State’s security; and informed him, in short, that he had leave, liberty, and licence, to turn his steps whithersoever he listed.
“To St. Germain’s!” cried De Blenau gaily. “To St. Germain’s! You, Henry de La Mothe, stay here with François and Clement. Take good care of Monsieur l’Ordinaire, and see that he be rewarded.”—The messenger made him a reverence.—“After you have reposed yourself here for a day,” continued the Count, “return to Moulins; pay notre Propriétaire, and all that may be there due. There is the key of the coffre fort. Use all speed that you well may, and then join me at home. And now for St. Germain’s.”
So saying, he sprang on his horse as light as air, gave the well-known signal with his heel, and in a moment was once more on the road to Paris.
Although I find a minute account of De Blenau’s whole journey to St. Germain’s, with the towns and inns at which he stopped, marked with the precision of a road-book, I shall nevertheless take upon myself the responsibility of abridging it as far as well can be, by saying that it began and ended happily.
The aspect of St. Germain’s, however, had very much changed since De Blenau left it. Louis had now fixed his residence there; his confidence in the Queen seemed perfectly restored; every countenance glowed with that air of satisfaction, which such a renewal of good intelligence naturally produced; and the Royal residence had once more assumed the appearance of a Court.
The first welcome received by De Blenau was from his gallant friend Cinq Mars, at whose request his recall had been granted by the King, and who now, calculating the time of the exile’s return, stood at the door of De Blenau’s hotel, ready to meet him on his arrival.
“Welcome, welcome back! my long-lost friend, Claude de Blenau,” exclaimed Cinq Mars, as the Count sprang from his horse; “welcome from the midst of prisons and trials, perils and dangers!”