Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.

by G. P. R. James

As time wore by, and the appointed hour approached, the Duke called to the people below, and ordered his horse to be brought from the stables of the castle. Then turning to De Montigni he added, "I think, as you are not acquainted with the spot, it may be as well if I conduct you thither myself; but in the first place, dispatch your servant on his errand. I will take care that none of mine follow us; and your horse can be brought round, after he is gone."

De Montigni made no objection, and the plan proposed was pursued. Nemours left his young companion for a few minutes, to make the arrangements necessary to guard against interruption; and, during the time that he was thus left alone, De Montigni wrote a few hasty lines to Rose d'Albret, telling her of the circumstances in which he was placed, and bidding her farewell, if he should fall. The letter was hardly sealed, when Nemours returned; and now that it was arranged they were to go forth for the purpose of taking each others' lives in deadly combat, he was all courtesy and urbanity, according to the customs of the day; and, to have heard his words, or to have witnessed his demeanour, one would have supposed that De Montigni was a dear and intimate friend, or perhaps a younger brother. Each charged the pistol of the other, each opened his pourpoint, to show that he had no secret, or coat of mail beneath; and then, after some ceremonies as to who should first descend the stairs, the Duke of Nemours led the way. Mounting their horses, which they found, held by some of the soldiers, at the door, they rode together towards the gates of the citadel. Several of the gentlemen attached to the Duke of Nemours were assembled near the bridge, and De Montigni thought that there were somewhat grave and even angry looks upon their countenances, which might indicate, that they were not quite so ignorant of the object of his companion and himself, as they affected to be. A little further on, at the outer gate, Monsieur de la Bourdasière came out of the guard house, and approaching the horse of the Duke of Nemours, spoke to him for a moment, in a low tone.

"Not if you value the friendship of Nemours," replied the Duke sternly. "The man who interferes in the slightest degree, is my enemy from that hour."

Thus saying he rode on; and passing the gates of Chartres, they advanced for some way along the road to Dreux, till at length the stone cross which the Duke had mentioned appeared in sight, and dismounting from their horses they knelt before it, and prayed for some moments in silence. Then mounting again, they took their way across the plain, till they had lost sight of the cross, it being considered, in those days, improper to commit murder in the neighbourhood of that symbol of salvation, although, with the heart full of every passion and every purpose condemned by Christ, they would kneel and pray, as they passed under the cross of him, who died to bring peace upon earth, good-will amongst men. Then choosing an open field by the bank of the river, the Duke made his companion a low bow, and wheeled his horse, saying, "Here, Monsieur de Montigni, we shall have space enough. We fire as we pass; and mind your aim be good!"

De Montigni bowed in return, and took his ground at the opposite side of the field.

CHAPTER XXI.

The journey was long and tedious, the road heavy and bad, the coach which had been procured at Chartres ponderous and cumbersome, and the horses which had been placed in it unequal to drag its weight except at a slow and lingering pace. Poor Rose d'Albret sat far back in the vehicle, with her hands over her eyes, and the tears streaming fast down her cheek as they passed through the gates of Chartres, and as the last faint traces of the dream of happiness in which she had been indulging, faded away, and left her a reality of misery, anxiety, and care.

Tardy as was their progress, the feet of the horses seemed all too quick in drawing her towards a scene in which she anticipated nothing but distress of many kinds; reproach from those who themselves deserved the bitterest censure, threats, importunity, persecution, and that constant effort to deceive, which she knew would require on her part continual watchfulness and a guard upon every word, and look, and action. She could no longer hope to give way to one feeling of the heart; the free spirit was to be chained down and bound; the candid and the frank, was to put on reserve and policy; the trustful and the confiding, was to assume doubt and suspicion: every bright quality of her own mind was to be cast away for the time, as useless in the warfare in which she was about to engage; and she was to be called upon to take up the weapons of her adversaries, in order to meet them upon equal terms. It was all bitters, in short; and Rose shrank from the contemplation, and felt a sickening hopelessness of heart, to which she had never given way before.

Then her thoughts turned to De Montigni; and for the first time she felt to the full how much she loved him. Short as had been the time that they had passed together since his return to France, those few hours had been as much as years in binding heart to heart, so full had they been of events, thoughts, and feelings; and now that she was separated from him, she asked herself, what would be his fate; meditated over all that he would suffer on her account, as well as the weary weight of imprisonment; and, judging rightly of his sensations, knew that his grief and anguish for her, would be the most painful part of all he had to endure. She felt as if she were bound in gratitude to repay his anxiety, by equal grief for him; and, instead of endeavouring to console herself by listening to the voice of hope, she added, I may say voluntarily, to her own sorrow, by dwelling upon his.

Thus passed hour after hour, as they rolled slowly on, while the party of horsemen who guarded her, urged the coachman to greater speed, though, if her voice could have obtained a hearing, she would have besought him to delay at every step, rather than hurry on to a place, the very thought of which was horrible to her. The driver, however, was not one to be moved in any degree by the exhortations of his companions; and neither slower nor faster did he go, for all that could be said to him. At the same dilatory pace he proceeded, paused twice to water and to feed his horses, and seemed as deaf to the apprehensions of the guard, lest they should be overtaken by any party of the enemy, as to the threats which they held out of the anger of the governor and the Duke of Nemours. Thus night fell just before they reached a little town, not much more than half way to Marzay; and the coachman, declaring that his horses could proceed no further that day, pulled up at the door of what was then called a Gîte or sleeping place, and proceeded unceremoniously to detach the cattle from the vehicle, giving no heed whatsoever, either to the questions or remonstrance of an old man who was in command of the troop.