To me he was certainly as kind as he could be; but still there was a difference there also. He often spoke to me gently, even affectionately, of my circumstances and my future prospects; treated me in most respects as his son; made me dine with himself and Madame de Villardin; but he never referred to the events which had taken place at the Prés Vallée. I saw, too, that, on the excuse of not looking upon me any longer in the light of a page, but rather as one of his own family, the familiar intercourse which I had held with him was in a great degree denied to myself and permitted to another; and that Gaspard de Belleville was closeted with him for hours every day. Of course, this did not please me; for although I trusted to my own conduct to maintain the good opinion of the Duke, yet, with the common weakness of human nature, I did not like that his confidence should be given to another, though it had often been painful to myself. I knew very well that my behaviour, though it might not have gratified his jealousy by admitting suspicions I believed to be false, would command his esteem more than that of Gaspard, who, probably, was more complacent--but who is there so strong and philosophic in heart, as to value esteem more than affection? I saw clearly, and I saw it with regret, that Monsieur de Villardin's love was likely to be given to him who pampered the weakness under which he laboured, rather than to him who tried to clear away suspicions, which, however detrimental to himself, were too firmly rooted to be eradicated without pain.
As some compensation, however, I found that my place in the regard of the Duchess was becoming higher each day; and as Monsieur de Villardin, on his arrival at Dumont, had desired me to attend upon her in her walks and drives, not as a page, but as her companion,--I was but fourteen, be it remembered,--and as her guard in case of danger, I had continually the means of cultivating her good opinion. Her spirits by this time were so depressed, that all the gay levity of manner which I had formerly remarked, was gone; and, grave, sad, and thoughtful, she took her daily walk through the park, accompanied by myself and her little girl; sometimes endeavouring to amuse herself by talking to me of England, and of the scenes that I had gone through--sometimes moved to a smile at my boyish pranks with the beautiful child that ran on beside us--but still relapsing into melancholy the moment that the evanescent light was gone. Never by any chance did she refer to her husband's behaviour towards her; though once, when she seemed more than usually depressed, her words and her manner made me think she was going to do so.
"You have greatly won Monsieur de Villardin's confidence and esteem," she said, after some previous conversation during one of our walks; "and I very well perceive that hereafter that esteem will be much increased. Now, Monsieur Hall," she proceeded, speaking with a considerable degree of emotion, "I have a favour to ask you, and a promise to exact from you. Of course, no woman in my situation can count upon life for more than three or four months, with any degree of confidence. Should I die, then, in the course of the event which is to befal me,--which I think more than probable,--as you will grow up to manhood with my children, and possess their father's confidence, will you promise me to be to them as a brother, to defend them with your whole heart and strength, by hand and voice, against any one that would wrong them; and never to forget to uphold their cause whenever you hear them assailed? Will you promise me this, upon your word of honour as a loyal Englishman and the son of a good soldier?"
"That I will, madam, and that I do," replied I: "even had you not asked it, I would have done so. But I now bind myself by everything I hold dear, in case--amongst the many changes of the world, which have laid my own hearth desolate, and given my father's house to strangers--they should ever require such weak aid as mine, I will give it to them with my whole heart and soul, and show as much zeal in their cause as if I were their brother."
I purposely made my promise as strong in point of language as I could devise, because I clearly saw, by the agitation of the Duchess while she spoke, that her husband's late conduct towards herself had excited in her bosom many a fearful apprehension in regard to the fate of her children. Hope, I have heard, will catch at straws; and certainly--though in the wide range of probability it was possible I might ultimately be able to render the services she required--there appeared but little likelihood of my assistance being of much avail: yet nevertheless my zealous promise seemed to relieve her mind greatly; and as I made it, I saw the tears, which had been crowding to the gates of her eyes while she herself had spoken, now burst forth and roll over her cheeks.
"Thank you, thank you!" she replied: "I know that your promise will not be forgotten, and therefore I shall never mention the subject to you again, but rely in all confidence upon your word:" and so saying, she led the way back towards the château.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
A fortnight, or rather more, passed away in this unpleasant state; and I found that time, which reconciles one to most things, had not that effect at all in making me endure patiently the transfer of the Duke's confidence to Gaspard de Belleville. Had he been, indeed, a person who deserved that confidence, or who would not have abused it, although my vanity might have been as much pained, my reason would not have supported me in murmuring, nor would my affection for my lord himself have given additional pain to my personal mortification. As it was, however, I felt convinced, from what I knew of that youth's disposition, that he would not only do nothing to cure Monsieur de Villardin of his morbid suspicions, but that, both for the sake of maintaining his place in his master's favour, and of annoying me, he would do all that he could to foster any feelings which he might find out that I had opposed. When these thoughts came across my mind--not being of the most patient temper in the world, nor particularly scrupulous as to the means of gratifying it--I more than once thought of throwing my adversary over the bridge into the river; and as I had never yet done anything of the kind in my own private cause, though I had committed many a doubtful act in the cause of others, I endeavoured to reason myself into believing that such a proceeding was absolutely necessary to the peace of Monsieur and Madame de Villardin. This passed through my thoughts more than once, I acknowledge; and I imagined--if done fairly in single combat, strength against strength, without any surprise or feint on my part, and with full warning received by him--that the act I contemplated would be fully as justifiable as any duel that ever was fought. He, indeed, had the advantage of age, being certainly two years older than myself; though now, having grown considerably in the air of Brittany, I was as tall as he was, and nearly as muscular.
What all this would have ended in, Heaven only knows; and I am almost afraid to calculate now what would have been the probable result; but two circumstances took place soon after my conversation with the Duchess, which I have detailed in the end of the last chapter, which put an end to all further thoughts upon the subject. The first was the arrival of a personage, who, on many points, changed all my ideas and opinions, gave me a new view of my duties, and both enlarged and purified my mind. The second was an accident which suddenly gave me a higher place than ever in the affection of Monsieur de Villardin, and established a link of connexion between his heart and mine that neither years nor circumstances could ever break.
Let me speak of the events which followed, however, in the order in which they occurred.--Of old Jerome Laborde I had seen a good deal since his arrival from the Prés Vallée; and, although he could give me no information as to the result of the conferences held between Monsieur de Villardin, his page, and the soubrette, he did not fail to point out that the change which had taken place was an evil one, and that all happiness was banished from our dwelling. The only thing, he said, which would ever restore it, would be the coming of good Père Ferdinand, his lord's confessor, who had more influence over his mind than any one, and who had promised to come over and stay at Dumont for some time. I had caught a passing sight of the Confessor more than once at the Prés Vallée; and both from something prepossessing in his demeanour, and from the effect which his exhortations had produced upon Monsieur de Villardin on a former occasion, I argued in the same manner as good Jerome Laborde in regard to his next visit.