Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times.

by G. P. R. James

Rose shook her head gravely and mournfully, but Chazeul went on with a slight alteration of tone, saying, "Come, Mademoiselle d'Albret, take a turn upon the ramparts, and let us talk no more of such things. The free air, and the sight of country round, will do you good; and, as you get a little more calm, we may consult together as to what is to be done to obviate those proceedings which we both wish to defer, at least."

Rose did not reply, but suffered him to lead her forth, though not without some reluctance. The maid Blanchette, who was in the ante-room, gazed at them as they passed, with a look of some surprise; but she said nothing, and they went out unobstructed.

Through the rest of the day Chazeul maintained the same conduct, and kept up the same tone, frequently discussing with Rose d'Albret the means which were to be taken to shake the determination of the Count de Liancourt and Madame de Chazeul. Three times he went to speak with them alone, upon the pretence of inducing them to change their resolutions, and returned with a gloomy and dissatisfied air, saying, "I can obtain no answer, but that to-morrow, before noon, our fate must be decided."

What was really the matter of his conversation with his mother and the count? Very different from that which he represented it. With his mother he laughed merrily over the artifices which he practised. "Ah! give me a woman," he cried, "for seeing into a woman's heart. I have all along mistaken this girl's character. From her light indifference and coquettish gaiety, I had thought to deal with her in the same way; but now I find, that she is all sentiment and tenderness, forsooth. If I had before possessed a clue to the little labyrinth of her heart, I should have easily found my way in."

To the Count de Liancourt, he maintained a different tone; pointed out the apparent terms of confidence which existed between Rose and himself; represented her reluctance as, in the main, affected, and merely assumed out of respect for what she considered propriety; insinuated that she would be rather pleased than not, to be the apparent victim of compulsion, in a matter where her own inclinations and her respect for appearances were at variance; and he took care to confirm the impression thus produced, by drawing from Rose replies in a low voice, to whispered questions which he affected to wish withheld from the ear of the Count. Thus passed by several hours at different times of the day. But during the rest, Rose remained in her chamber, plunged in deep reveries, and puzzled and doubtful reflections, seeking some light in the maze that surrounded her, often looking to the future with a shudder of dread, and often contemplating the past with bitter tears, but still hearing a voice that whispered, "De Montigni is not dead."

CHAPTER XXV.

Poor Rose d'Albret was like an inexperienced youth, playing for a high stake against a numerous party of unprincipled gamblers. While Chazeul was affecting to be her own partner in the game, his mother, as his confederate, was employing all her art against her. During the whole of that day, the Marchioness was busy in every part of the château, preparing all means for the attainment of her object. Now, she was dealing with her weak brother, now with the servants, now with the priest; and it was with no cold and lifeless calculation that she acted, but even with more interest than the mere promotion of her son's views could have inspired. She was in her element; she loved the exercise of her cunning; she took a delight in the act; it gave her excitement, in which to her was life; for all her days had been passed from very early years, either in the fine workings of intrigue, or in stormy passions and the struggles of the mind. Such things were to her as the strong spirit to the drunkard, or the dice to the gamester; and she could not live without them. We shall only trace her course, however, as far as this day is concerned, through one or two of her proceedings; for that will be enough to show how she conducted the whole. As soon as her son had left her in the morning, she proceeded to the chapel of the castle, and there, according to the expression of the day, gave holy water to the body of her brother. It may be asked if the sight of the coffin and the pall, produced no effect upon her mind; if the salutary thoughts of death, and the evidence, of how all vast schemes and laborious efforts must terminate--of the great consummation of earthly ambition--did not create doubt and hesitation, awaken remorse, or excite repentance? Not in the least! Those were strange and awful times, when the daily scenes of blood and death, and the constant spectacle of vice and crime, seemed to have hardened most hearts against all the great moral lessons which mortal fate affords to the living and the light. They did not--perhaps they would not--feel; and the most frenzied licentiousness, the most guilty schemes, the most black and terrible crimes, had often, for witnesses, the dead, for pretexts, religion, for a banner, the cross.

What she went to perform was but a ceremony; and as such she treated it, without one thought but. "We must get the body buried before the marriage, to-morrow.--No need to tell her anything about it."

She was turning to leave the chapel, when the priest entered, and approached her with a slow and solemn step. "Ah! good father," cried the Marchioness, as soon as she saw him, "I have been looking for you. I wished to speak with you about the conduct of this obstinate girl. She still holds out pertinaciously, and something must be done to overcome her headstrong opposition. We have thought of--"

"Not here," replied the priest, interrupting her, "not here! This is a solemn and a holy place, unfit for worldly discussions. Let us go somewhere else, where we can talk over the affair more decently. The lower hall was vacant as I passed through."