Nicholas de Chazeul winced under the infliction. He was not one to bear easily the charge of folly even from his mother. Vice she might have charged him with at will; sin, crime, he would easily have borne; but weakness, foolishness, were accusations, against which all the vanity of his heart took arms; and his cheek grew red, his brow heavy, while he answered, "Perhaps not so stupid as you think, Madam. It was necessary to keep the girl quiet. I wrote nothing in any book, however; and perhaps, after all, you may yourself be deceived, and the priest know nothing about it."
Madame de Chazeul shook her head, replying, "Too surely!--I have been guilty of a folly as well as you, boy; and gave way to anger when I should have dealt more patiently. What is done, however, is done; and the only thing that remained, was, for me to cure one sharp act by another.--But let us talk no more of these matters. There lies the priest; and there he must lie till you are married. I will deal with your uncle and sweet Mademoiselle Rose, and you must do your part."
"And pray, will your sagacity let me know what my part is to be?" asked Chazeul; for be it remarked, that he always spoke in a somewhat jesting and irreverent tone to his excellent parent, even while he was most implicitly following her impulses.
"It is an easy one, my son," replied the Marchioness. "First you must go down to the village, and engage the curé to come up hither for the double duty that is to be performed. There is the old man to be buried. That had better take place at nine; and then there is the young man to be married, which must be done before noon. He will of course speak of father Walter, and say, it is his office to bury or marry all that die of the line of Liancourt; that he has special rights and privileges in the Chapel of Marzay, with which none can interfere, and more to the same purpose; but then you must put on a sad and solemn face, and answer that the good father was to have performed both ceremonies, but that this last night, by too much watching prayer and fasting by the corpse, he has fallen grievously ill, and has taken to his bed. Doubtless he will wish to see him when he comes up here, between the funeral and the wedding; but father Walter can get some refreshing sleep about that time; and 'twould be a sin to wake him."
Chazeul laughed. "You are armed at all points, I see," he answered; "but if, after all, Rose should show her refractory spirit at the altar, it will then be matter of regret and difficulty too, that we have not some one in our interest to go on quietly with the service, without having very fine ears for objections."
"As to the regret," said the Marchioness, "that is soon swept away. There was no way of avoiding what has been done. I know father Walter; and with him, when once his interests are opposed to yours, there is no way of dealing, but by force against wit. We are all very clever, Chazeul; and by experience of the world, we gain a certain degree of skill, like that of a village quacksalver; but a priest has a regular education in outwitting all the world, and a diploma to do it. Then for the difficulty, the curé is a good man--an excellent good man. Let him speak to me; and I will give him such reasons for thinking it best, Mademoiselle d'Albret should be your wife, that he will make you one, whether she says 'yes' or 'no,' I warrant."
"Well, all this will but occupy a short space," answered Chazeul; "and, therefore, if I am to be out of my uncle's way till his passion be cooled, pray tell me by your cabalistic art, when I may calculate that his vicinity will be safe; for I know not that I can play my part with him as well as I did with our fair Rose yesterday."
"Ay! you did that well," rejoined his mother, with an approving nod; "but you must not be back till near eleven; or if you be, you must keep your chamber as if afraid to appear. When you do, you must be mighty penitent, hear all his censure with deep humility, express your in grief broken words and sentences, that mean more than they say; never deny your crime, but plead temptation. That will be all easily done, when the first storm has blown over, especially when you are there ready to make the best atonement in your power, for any wrong you may have done the lady's reputation. What can be expected more? But there is one thing more to be considered. That old marauder, Estoc, was still at the village yesterday. I like it not; I know not what he wants: you must be on your guard! He may have designs we know not of. He certainly aided De Montigni and Rose in their escape. He may think Nicholas de Chazeul, a prize worth keeping in his hands,--a comfortable hostage for her marriage with the boy he loves so well. Before you venture into the village, send down and see if he be still there, and if he be, have the curé brought up to you.--But go not too near."
"Oh, I fear him not!" replied Chazeul; "he would never dare to draw a sword against me, under the very walls of Marzay. No fear, no fear, dear mother. But I will be cautious for the present. The men of Chazeul must soon be back, if all their throats be not cut, as, by my faith, I am tempted to think they must be, by their long stay; and when they return, I will drive the old wolf out of his lair at the lance's point. I have not forgotten him. But the delay of these men puzzles me.--They had strict orders to return as soon as a battle was lost or won."
"They may have been driven back with Mayenne across the Seine," replied Madame de Chazeul; "or towards Houdan and Versailles; and are not able to force their way across. Besides, you know the Bailli loves adventures, and is not un-fond of plunder. He may have some private enterprise in hand."