Our conversation went on for some time; and the girl, young as she was, spoke with a depth of feeling, a tenderness, an experience of the world and the world's ways, which was very extraordinary, mingled as it was with a sort of eager and imaginative wildness of manner and language, which probably she had acquired in the somewhat wandering and irregular life to which her father's pursuits subjected her. I looked upon the hopes and expectations that she tried to fill me with, of being able to do something in my behalf, as quite idle and vain; but still the gratitude that she showed was something pleasant to meet with, and I sent her away with thanks, and many a kindly speech in return.
At the village of Berny, a short distance from Paris, the Jew, his daughter, and the innumerable packhorses which followed him, were to part with their companions of the way, he proceeding to the capital, and we by a side road to Champigny. He now, however, considered himself quite safe; and, when I had mounted to depart, he came up to the side of my horse, followed by Miriam, and prayed a blessing from God upon my onward journey.
"I have heard from Monsieur Arnon," he said, in a low voice, "that the estate of Les Bois is yours, and that, for the time, I am only to call you Monsieur des Bois; but, whether you be at Champigny or at Les Bois, I hope you will not refuse to let me within your gates; for you have shown me kindness such as I have seldom found, and such as I shall never forget."
Thus saying, he kissed my hand after his fashion, and Miriam, coming up, did the same. There was something in the poor people's gratitude that made my eyes glisten though they were Jews, and, bidding them adieu, I rode on. As I turned my horse into the road at the right, I looked back, and saw that they were standing before the inn door, gazing after me still.
CHAPTER V.
I was well pleased to arrive at Champigny, and certainly a very beautiful and charming spot it was; but, of course, the sight of Les Bois was still more agreeable to me as its proprietor. The chateau was a small house, built in the antique fashion, but still in the most perfect repair; certainly not so large as the duke's own mansion at Champigny, yet large enough for my ambition. It was seated on a hill, in the midst of fine old woods, from which it derived its name; and there was an aspect of peace, and calm, and tranquillity, which was pleasant to the eye and to the heart after the scenes of anguish, care, and excitement which war had lately presented to my sight. The interior of the chateau was, as the Prince d'Auvergne had told me, well furnished, and newly furnished throughout. To my eyes, indeed, it was splendid; for in those day there was perhaps, even more than now, a marked difference in the grace, taste, and execution of everything in the neighbourhood of the capital and in the remote provinces.
The good intendant of the Prince d'Auvergne insisted upon taking me all over the chateau, and showing me every hole and corner, though I was most anxious, I confess, to go into Paris itself, and take some means for obtaining an interview with Louise. I did not know well how to explain my inclinations to my worthy companion, and, to break the subject to him, I made some inquiries regarding the capital; but, the moment he heard that I had never seen Paris, nothing would serve him but that I must go there immediately. To his imagination it was the chief wonder of the world; and, after descanting upon its merits, beauties, and excellences for half an hour, he said, "If it were not presuming too far, my lord, I would propose to accompany you thither immediately, and show you some of the beauties of the place, though even to notice them all would require many weeks, I might say months."
I instantly caught at this proposal; and, mounting fresh horses at Champigny, we rode on into the city, where, giving our horses to the boys, we proceeded to walk through the streets of the capital. At any other moment, when my mind was not so occupied by one predominant subject, everything that I saw would have been a matter of interest to me. The long ranges of shops, covered over with awnings to keep the merchandises there exposed from the sun and the air; the people reading aloud pieces of poetry and satire at the corners of the streets; the different shows and exhibitions that attracted the sight at every step, all would have amused, detained, and interested me; but now my great desire and object was to discover the abode of the Baron de Blancford, and obtain some means of communicating with her I loved. The multitude of houses, and streets, and people that increased upon me at every minute, confused and puzzled me, and made me fancy the attempt almost impracticable, not knowing the address, and having no clew in such a labyrinth as that.
Suddenly, however, I called to mind that, from Miriam's account, Martin Vern was still in the custom of visiting the house of the Baron de Blancford, and judging that he, as a great merchant, must be known to everybody, I asked Arnon the intendant if he could lead me to his dwelling.
"I do not know him," said the intendant. "Is he a Huguenot?"