Shows how the Count de Blenau supped in a place that he little
expected.
Though the attendants of the Count de Blenau did not expend much time in
preparing to accompany their master, the evening was nevertheless too
far spent, before they could proceed, to permit the hope of reaching
Paris ere the night should have set in. It was still quite light enough,
however, to show all the preparations for the Count's departure to the
boys of St. Germain's, who had not beheld for many a good day such a gay
cavalcade enliven the streets of that almost deserted town.
Chavigni and De Blenau mounted their horses together; and the four or
five servants which the Statesman had brought with him from Paris,
mingling with those of De Blenau, followed the two gentlemen as they
rode from the gate. Having the privilege of the Park, Chavigni took his
way immediately under the windows of the Palace, thereby avoiding a
considerable circuit, which would have occupied more time than they
could well spare at that late hour of the evening.
The moment Pauline de Beaumont had seen her lover depart, the tears,
which she had struggled to repress in his presence, flowed rapidly down
her cheeks. The noble, candid manner of De Blenau had nearly quelled all
suspicion in her mind. The graces of his person, the tone of his voice,
the glance of his eye, had realized the day-dreams which she had
nourished from her youth.
Fame had long before told her that he was brave, high-spirited,
chivalrous; and his picture, as well as memory, had shown him as
strikingly handsome; but still it did not speak, it did not move; and
though Pauline had often sat with it in her hand, and imagined the
expressions of his various letters as coming from those lips, or tried
in fancy to animate the motionless eyes of the portrait, still the hero
of her romance, like the figure of Prometheus ere he had robbed the Sun
of light to kindle it into active being, wanted the energy of real life.
But at length they had met, and whether it was so in truth, or whether
she imagined it, matters not, but every bright dream of her fancy seemed
fulfilled in De Blenau; and now that she had cause to fear for his
safety, she upbraided herself for having entertained a suspicion.
She wept then--but her tears were from a very different cause to that
which had occasioned them to flow before. However, her eyes were still
full, when a servant entered to inform her that the Queen desired her
society with the other ladies of her scanty Court. Pauline endeavoured
to efface the marks which her weeping had left, and slowly obeyed the
summons, which being usual at that hour, she knew was on no business of
import; but on entering the closet, she perceived that tears had also
been in the bright eyes of Anne of Austria.
The circle, which consisted of Madame de Beaumont, Mademoiselle de
Hauteford, and another Lady of honour, had drawn round the window at
which her Majesty sat, and which, thrown fully open, admitted the breeze
from the Park.
"Come hither, Pauline," said the Queen as she saw her enter, "What! have
you been weeping too? Nay, do not blush, sweet girl; for surely a
subject need not be ashamed of doing _once_ what a Queen is obliged to
do every day. Why, it is the only resource that we women have. But come
here: there seems a gay cavalcade entering the Park gates. These are the
toys with which we are taught to amuse ourselves. Who are they, I
wonder? Come near, Pauline, and see if your young eyes can tell."
Pauline approached the window, and took her station by the side of the
Queen, who, rising from her seat, placed her arm kindly through that of
Mademoiselle de Beaumont, and leaning gently upon her, prevented the
possibility of her retiring from the spot where she stood.
In the mean while the cavalcade approached. The gay trappings of the
horses, and the rich suits of their riders, with their silk scarfs and
sword-knots of blue and gold, soon showed to the keen eyes of the
Queen's ladies that the young Count de Blenau was one of the party;
while every now and then a horseman in Isabel and silver appearing
amongst the rest, told them, to their no small surprise, that he was
accompanied by the Count de Chavigni, the sworn friend of Richelieu, and
one of the principal leaders of the Cardinal's party. The Queen,
however, evinced no astonishment, and her attendants of course did not
attempt to express the wonder they felt at such a companionship.
The rapid pace at which the two gentlemen proceeded, soon brought them
near the Palace; and Chavigni, from whose observant eye nothing passed
without notice, instantly perceived the Queen and her party at the
window, and marked his salutation with a profound inclination, low
almost to servility, while De Blenau raised his high-plumed hat and
bowed, with the dignity of one conscious that he had deserved well of
all who saw him.
Chavigni led the way to Marly, and thence to Ruel, where night began to
come heavily upon the twilight; and long before they entered Paris, all
objects were lost in darkness. "You must be my guest for to-night,
Monsieur de Blenau," said Chavigni, as they rode on down the Rue St.
Honoré, "for it will be too late to visit the Cardinal this evening."
However, as they passed the Palais Royal (then called the Palais
Cardinal), the blaze of light, which proceeded from every window of the
edifice, told that on that night the superb Minister entertained the
Court;--a Court, of which he had deprived his King, and which he had
appropriated to himself. De Blenau drew a deep sigh as he gazed upon the
magnificent edifice, and compared the pomp and luxury which every thing
appertaining to it displayed, with the silent, desolate melancholy which
reigned in the royal palaces of France.
Passing on down the Rue St. Honoré, and crossing the Rue St. Martin,
they soon reached the Place Royale, in which Chavigni had fixed his
residence. Two of De Blenau's servants immediately placed themselves at
the head of his horse, and held the bridle short, while Henry de La
Mothe sprang to the stirrup. But at that moment a gentleman who seemed
to have been waiting the arrival of the travellers, issued from the
Hotel de Bouthiliers, and prevented them from dismounting.
"Do not alight, gentlemen," exclaimed he; "his Eminence the Cardinal de
Richelieu has sent me to request that Messieurs De Blenau and Chavigni
will partake a small collation at the Palais Cardinal, without the
ceremony of changing their dress."
De Blenau would fain have excused himself, alleging that the habit which
he wore was but suited to the morning, and also was soiled with the
dust of their long ride. But the Cardinal's officer overbore all
opposition, declaring that his Eminence would regard it as a higher
compliment, if the Count would refrain from setting foot to the ground
till he entered the gates of his Palace.
"Then we must go back," said Chavigni. "We are honoured by the
Cardinal's invitation. Monsieur de Blenau, pardon me for having brought
you so far wrong. Go in, Chatenay," he added, turning to one of his own
domestics, "and order flambeaux."
In a few moments all was ready; and preceded by half a dozen
torch-bearers on foot, they once more turned towards the dwelling of the
Minister. As they did so, De Blenau's feelings were not of the most
agreeable nature, but he acquiesced in silence, for to have refused his
presence would have been worse than useless.
The Palais Royal, which, as we have said, was then called the Palais
Cardinal, was a very different building when occupied by the haughty
Minister of Louis the Thirteenth, from that which we have seen it in our
days. The unbounded resources within his power gave to Richelieu the
means of lavishing on the mansion which he erected for himself, all that
art could produce of elegant, and all that wealth could supply of
magnificent. For seven years the famous Le Mercier laboured to perfect
it as a building; and during his long administration, the Cardinal
himself never ceased to decorate it with every thing rare or luxurious.
The large space which it occupied was divided into an outer and an inner
court, round which, on every side, the superb range of buildings,
forming the Palace, was placed in exact and beautiful proportion,
presenting every way an external and internal front, decorated with all
the splendour of architectural ornament.
The principal façade lay towards the Rue St. Honoré, and another of
simpler, but perhaps more correct design, towards the gardens, which
last were themselves one of the wonders of Paris at the time. Extending
over the space now occupied by the Rue de Richelieu, the Rue de Valois,
and several other streets, they contained, within themselves, many acres
of ground, and were filled with every plant and flower that Europe then
possessed, scattered about amongst the trees, which, being planted long
before the formality of the Dutch taste was introduced in France, had in
general been allowed to fall into natural groups, unperverted into the
long avenues and straight alleys which disfigure so many of the royal
parks and gardens on the Continent.
The right wing of the first court was principally occupied by that
beautiful Theatre, so strongly connected with every classic remembrance
of the French stage, in which the first tragedies of Rotrou and
Corneille were produced,--in which many of the inimitable comedies of
Molière were first given to the world, and in which he himself acted
till his death.
In the wing immediately opposite, was the Chapel, built in the Ionic
order, and ornamented in that pure and simple manner which none knew
better how to value than the Cardinal de Richelieu.
The two courts were divided from each other by a massive pile of
building, containing the grand saloon, the audience-chamber, and the
cabinet of the high council. On the ground-floor was the banqueting-room
and its antechamber; and a great part of the building fronting the
gardens was occupied by the famous gallery of portraits, which Richelieu
had taken care should comprise the best pictures that could be procured
of all the greatest characters in French history.
The rest of the Palace was filled with various suites of apartments,
generally decorated and furnished in the most sumptuous manner. Great
part of these the Cardinal reserved either for public entertainments, or
for his own private use; but what remained was nevertheless fully large
enough to contain that host of officers and attendants by which he was
usually surrounded.
On the evening in question almost every part of that immense building
was thrown open to receive the multitude that interest and fear gathered
round the powerful and vindictive Minister. Almost all that was gay,
almost all that was beautiful, had been assembled there. All to whom
wealth gave something to secure--all to whom rank gave something to
maintain--all whom wit rendered anxious for distinction--all whom talent
prompted to ambition. Equally those that Richelieu feared or loved,
hated or admired, were brought there by some means, and for some reason.
The scene which met the eyes of De Blenau and Chavigni, as they ascended
the grand staircase and entered the saloon, can only be qualified by the
word princely. The blaze of jewels, the glare of innumerable lights, the
splendid dresses of the guests, and the magnificent decorations of the
apartments themselves, all harmonized together, and formed a
_coup-d'oeil_ of surpassing brilliancy.
The rooms were full, but not crowded; for there were attendants
stationed in various parts for the purpose of requesting the visitors
to proceed, whenever they observed too many collected in one spot. Yet
care was taken that those who were thus treated with scant ceremony
should be of the inferior class admitted to the Cardinal's fête. Each
officer of the Minister's household was well instructed to know the just
value of every guest, and how far he was to be courted, either for his
mind or influence.
To render to all the highest respect, was the general order, but some
were to be distinguished. Care was also taken that none should be
neglected, and an infinite number of servants were seen gliding through
the apartments, offering the most costly and delicate refreshments to
every individual of the mixed assembly.
De Blenau followed Chavigni through the grand saloon, where many an eye
was turned upon the elegant and manly figure of him, who on that night
of splendour and finery, presumed to show himself in a suit, rich indeed
and well-fashioned, but evidently intended more for the sports of the
morning than for the gay evening circle in which he then stood. Yet it
was remarked, that none of the ladies drew back as the Cavalier passed
them, notwithstanding his riding-dress and his dusty boots; and one fair
demoiselle, whose rank would have sanctioned it, had it been done on
purpose, was unfortunate enough to entangle her train on his spurs. The
Count de Coligni stepped forward to disengage it, but De Blenau himself
had already bent one knee to the ground, and easily freeing the spur
from the robe of Mademoiselle de Bourbon, he remained for a moment in
the same attitude. "It is but just," said he, "that I should kneel, at
once to repair my awkwardness, and sue for pardon."
"It was my sister's own fault, De Blenau," said the Duke d'Enghien,
approaching them, and embracing the young Count. "We have not met, dear
friend, since the rendering of Perpignan. But what makes you here? Does
your proud spirit bend at last to ask a grace of my Lord Uncle
Cardinal?"
"No, your Highness," replied De Blenau; "no farther grace have I to
ask, than leave to return to St. Germain's as soon as I may."
"What!" said the Duke, in the abrupt heedless manner in which he always
spoke, "does he threaten you too with that cursed bugbear of a Bastille?
a bugbear, that makes one man fly his country, and another betray it;
that makes one man run his sword into his heart, and another
marry;"--alluding without ceremony to his own compelled espousal of the
Cardinal's niece. "But there stands Chavigni," he continued, "waiting
for you, I suppose. Go on, go on; there is no stopping when once you
have got within the Cardinal's magic circle--Go on, and God speed your
suit; for the sooner you are out of that same circle the better."
Quitting the young hero, who had already, on more than one occasion,
displayed that valour and conduct which in after-years procured for him
the immortal name of the Great Condé, the Count de Blenau passed another
group, consisting of the beautiful Madame de Montbazon and her avowed
lover, the Duke of Longueville, who soon after, notwithstanding his
unconcealed passion for another, became the husband of Mademoiselle de
Bourbon. For be it remarked, in those days a bitter quarrel existed
between Love and Marriage, and they were seldom seen together in the
same society. It is said indeed, that in France, a coolness remains
between them to this day. Here also was the Duke of Guise, who
afterwards played so conspicuous a part in the revolution of Naples, and
by his singular adventures, his gallantry and chivalrous courage,
acquired the name of _l'Hero de la Fable_, as Condé had been called
_l'Hero de l'Histoire_. Still passing on, De Blenau rejoined Chavigni,
who waited for him at the entrance of the next chamber.
It was the great hall of audience, and at the farther extremity stood
the Cardinal de Richelieu himself, leaning for support against a gilt
railing, which defended from any injurious touch the beautiful picture
of Raphael, so well known by the title of "La Belle Jardiniere." He was
dressed in the long purple robes of his order, and wore the peculiar
hat of a Cardinal; the bright colour of which made the deadly hue of his
complexion look still more ghastly. But the paleness of his countenance,
and a certain attenuation of feature, was all that could be discerned of
the illness from which he suffered. The powerful mind within seemed to
conquer the feebleness of the body. His form was erect and dignified,
his eye beaming with that piercing sagacity and haughty confidence in
his own powers, which so distinguished his policy; and his voice clear,
deep, and firm, but of that peculiar quality of sound, that it seemed to
spread all round, and to come no one knew from whence, like the wind
echoing through an empty cavern.
It was long since De Blenau had seen the Cardinal; and on entering the
audience-chamber, the sound of that voice made him start. Its clear
hollow tone seemed close to him, though Richelieu was conversing with
some of his immediate friends at the farther end of the room.
As the two cavaliers advanced, De Blenau had an opportunity of
observing the manner in which the Minister treated those around him: but
far from telling aught of dungeons and of death, his conversation seemed
cheerful, and his demeanour mild and placid. "And can this be the man,"
thought the Count, "the fabric of whose power is cemented by blood and
torture?"
They had now approached within a few paces of the spot where the
Cardinal stood; and the figure of Chavigni catching his eye, he advanced
a step, and received him with unaffected kindness. Towards De Blenau,
his manner was full of elegant politeness. He did not embrace him as he
had done Chavigni; but he held him by the hand for a moment, gazing on
him with a dignified approving smile. Those who did not well know the
heart of the subtle Minister, would have called that smile benevolent,
especially when it was accompanied by many kind inquiries respecting the
young nobleman's views and pursuits. De Blenau had been taught to judge
by actions, not professions; and the Cardinal had taken care to imprint
his deeds too deeply in the minds of men to be wiped out with soft
words. To dissemble was not De Blenau's forte; and yet he knew, that to
show a deceiver he cannot deceive, is to make him an open enemy for
ever. He replied, therefore, calmly and politely; neither repulsed the
Cardinal's advances, nor courted his regard; and after a few more
moments of desultory conversation, prepared to pursue his way through
the various apartments.
"There are some men, Monsieur le Comte," said the Cardinal, seeing him
about to pass on, "whom I might have scrupled to invite to such a scene
as this, in their riding-dress. But the Count de Blenau is not to be
mistaken."
"I felt no scruple," answered De Blenau, "in presenting myself thus,
when your Eminence desired it; for the dress in which the Cardinal de
Richelieu thought fit to receive me, could not be objected to by any of
his circle."
The Cardinal bowed; and De Blenau adding, that he would not intrude
farther at that moment, took his way through the suite of apartments to
Richelieu's left hand. Chavigni was about to follow, but a sign from the
Cardinal stopped him, and the young Count passed on alone.
Each of the various rooms he entered was thronged with its own peculiar
groups. In one, was an assembly of famous artists and sculptors; in
another, a close convocation of philosophers, discussing a thousand
absurd theories of the day; and in the last he came to, was a buzzing
hive of poets and _beaux esprits_; each trying to distinguish himself,
each jealous of the other, and all equally vain and full of themselves.
In one corner was Scuderi, haranguing upon the nature of tragedy, of
which he knew nothing. In another place, Voiture, throwing off little
empty couplets and bon-mots, like a child blowing bubbles from a
tobacco-pipe; and farther on was Rotrou, surrounded by a select party
more silent than the rest, to whom he recited some of his unpublished
poems, marking strongly the verse, and laying great emphasis upon the
rhyme. De Blenau stopped for a moment to listen while the poet
proceeded:--
"L'aube desia se lève, et le mignard Zephire,
Parfumant l'horizon du doux air qu'il respire,
Va d'un son agréable esveiller les oiseaux
Pour saluer le jour qui paroist sur les eaux."
But though the verses he recited were highly poetic, the extravagant
affectation of his manner soon neutralized their effect upon De Blenau;
and passing on down a broad flight of steps, De Blenau found himself in
the gardens of the Palace. These, as well as the whole front of the
building, were illuminated in every direction. Bands of musicians were
dispersed in the different walks, and a multitude of servants were
busily engaged in laying out tables for supper with all the choicest
viands of the season, and in trimming the various lamps and tapers which
hung from the branches of the trees or were displayed on fanciful frames
of wood, so placed as to give the fullest light to the banquets which
were situated near them.
Scattered about in various parts of the garden, but more especially near
the Palace, were different groups of gentlemen, all speaking of plays,
assemblies, or fêtes, and all taking care to make their conversation
perfectly audible, lest the jealous suspicion ever attendant on usurped
power, should attribute to them schemes which, it is probable, fear
alone prevented them from attempting.
Nevertheless, the gardens, as we have said, containing several acres of
ground, there were many parts comparatively deserted. It was towards
these more secluded spots that De Blenau directed his steps, wishing
himself many a league away from the Palais Cardinal and all its
splendour. Just as he had reached a part where few persons were to be
seen, some one struck him slightly on the arm, and turning round, he
perceived a man who concealed the lower part of his face with his cloak,
and tendered him what seemed to be a billet.
At the first glance De Blenau thought he recognised the Count de
Coligni, a reputed lover of Mademoiselle de Bourbon, and imagined that
the little piece of gallantry he had shown that lady on his first
entrance, might have called upon him the wrath of the jealous Coligni.
But no sooner had he taken the piece of paper, than the other darted
away amongst the trees, giving him no time to observe more, either of
his person or his dress.
Approaching a spot where the number of lamps gave him sufficient light
to read, De Blenau opened the note, which contained merely these words.
"Beware of Chavigni;--they will seek to draw something from you which
may criminate you hereafter."
As he read, De Blenau heard a light step advancing, and hastily
concealing the note, turned to see who approached. The only person near
was a lady, who had thrown a thick veil over her head, which not only
covered her face, but the upper part of her figure. She passed close by
him, but without turning her head, or by any other motion seeming to
notice him; but as she did so, De Blenau heard a low voice from under
the veil, desiring him to follow. Gliding on, without pausing for a
moment, the lady led the way to the very extreme of the garden. De
Blenau followed quick upon her steps, and as he did so, endeavoured to
call to mind where he had seen that graceful and dignified figure
before. At length the lady stopped, looked round for a moment, and
raising her veil, discovered the lovely countenance of Mademoiselle de
Bourbon.
"Monsieur de Blenau," said the Princess, "I have but one moment to tell
you, that the Cardinal and Chavigni are plotting the ruin of the Queen;
and they wish to force or persuade you to betray her. After you had left
the Cardinal, by chance I heard it proposed to arrest you even to-night;
but Chavigni said, that he had given his word that you should return to
St. Germain's to-morrow. Take care, therefore, of your conduct while
here, and if you have any cause to fear, escape the moment you are at
liberty. Fly to Flanders, and place yourself under the protection of Don
Francisco de Mello."
"I have to return your Highness a thousand thanks," replied De Blenau;
"but as far as innocence can give security, I have no reason to fear."
"Innocence is nothing here," rejoined the lady. "But you are the best
judge, Monsieur de Blenau. I sent Coligni to warn you, and taking an
opportunity of escaping from the supper-table, came to request that you
will offer my humble duty to the Queen, and assure her that Marie de
Bourbon is ever hers. But here is some one coming--Good God, it is
Chavigni!"
As she spoke, Chavigni came rapidly upon them. Mademoiselle de Bourbon
drew down her veil, and De Blenau placed himself between her and the
Statesman, who, affecting an excess of gaiety, totally foreign to his
natural character, began to rally the Count upon what he termed his
gallantry. "So, Monsieur de Blenau," cried he, "already paying your
devoirs to our Parisian dames. Nay, I must offer my compliments to your
fair lady on her conquest;" and he endeavoured to pass the Count towards
Mademoiselle de Bourbon.
De Blenau drew his sword. "Stand off, Sir," exclaimed he, "or by Heaven
you are a dead man!" And the point came flashing so near Chavigni's
breast, that he was fain to start back a step or two. The lady seized
the opportunity to pass him, for the palisade of the garden had
prevented her escaping the other way. Chavigni attempted to follow, but
De Blenau caught his arm, and held him with a grasp of iron.
"Not one step, Sir!" cried he. "Monsieur de Chavigni, you have strangely
forgot yourself. How is it you presume, Sir, to interrupt my
conversation with any one? And let me ask, what affair it is of yours,
if a lady chose to give me five minutes of her company even here! You
have slackened your gallantry not a little."
"But was the Cardinal's garden a place fitted for such love stories?"
demanded Chavigni, feeling, at the same time, very sure that the
conversation he had interrupted had not been of love; for in those days
politics and faction divided the heart of a Frenchwoman with gallantry,
and, instead of quarrelling for the empire of her breast, these
apparently opposite passions went hand in hand together; and exempt from
the more serious dangers incurred by the other sex in similar
enterprises, women were often the most active agents and zealous
partisans in the factions and conspiracies of the times.
It had been Chavigni's determination, on accompanying De Blenau to the
Palais Cardinal, not to lose sight of his companion for a moment, in
order that no communication might take place between him and any of the
Queen's party till such time as the Cardinal had personally interrogated
him concerning the correspondence which they supposed that Anne of
Austria carried on with her brother, Philip of Spain. Chavigni, however,
had been stopped, as we have seen, by the Cardinal himself, and detained
for some time in conversation, the principal object of which was, the
Count de Blenau himself, and the means of either persuading him by
favour, or of driving him by fear, not only to abandon, but to betray
the party he had espoused. The Cardinal thought ambition would do all;
Chavigni said that it would not move De Blenau; and thus the discussion
was considerably prolonged.
As soon as Chavigni could liberate himself, he had hastened after the
Count, and found him as we have described. To have ascertained who was
his companion, Chavigni would have risked his life; but now that she had
escaped him, the matter was past recall; and willing again to throw De
Blenau off his guard, he made some excuses for his intrusion, saying he
had thought that the lady was not unknown to him.
"Well, well, let it drop," replied De Blenau, fully more desirous of
avoiding farther inquiries than Chavigni was of relinquishing them. "But
the next time you come across me on such an occasion, beware of your
heart's blood, Monsieur de Chavigni." And thus saying, he thrust back
his sword into the scabbard.
Chavigni, however, was resolved not to lose sight of him again, and
passing his arm through that of the Count, "You are still too hot,
Monsieur de Blenau," said he; "but nevertheless let us be friends
again."
"As far as we ever were friends, Sir," replied De Blenau. "The open
difference of our principles in every respect, must always prevent our
greatly assimilating."
Chavigni, however, kept to his purpose, and did not withdraw his arm
from that of De Blenau, nor quit him again during the whole evening.
Whether the Statesman suspected Mademoiselle de Bourbon or not, matters
little; but on entering the banquet-room, where the principal guests
were preparing to take their seats, they passed that lady with her
brother and the Count de Coligni, and the eye of Chavigni glanced from
the countenance of De Blenau to hers. But they were both upon their
guard, and not a look betrayed that they had met since De Blenau's spur
had been entangled in her train.
At that moment the Master of the ceremonies exclaimed with a loud voice,
"Place au Comte de Blenau," and was conducting him to a seat higher than
his rank entitled him to take, when his eye fell upon the old Marquis de
Brion; and with the deference due not only to his station but to his
high military renown, De Blenau drew back to give him precedence.
"Go on, go on, _mon cher De Blenau_," said the old soldier; and lowering
his voice to a whisper, he added, "honest men like you and I are all out
of place here; so go on, and never mind. If it were in the field, we
would strive which should be first; but here there is no knowing which
end of the table is most honourable."
"Wherever it were, I should always be happy to follow Monsieur de
Brion," replied De Blenau; "but as you will have it, so let it be." And
following the Master of the ceremonies, he was soon placed amongst the
most distinguished guests, and within four or five seats of the
Cardinal. Like the spot before a heathen altar, it was always the place
either of honour or sacrifice; and De Blenau scarcely knew which was to
be his fate. At all events, the distinction which he met with, was by no
means pleasing to him, and he remained in silence during greater part of
the banquet.
Every thing in the vast hall where they sat was magnificent beyond
description. It was like one of those scenes in fairy romance, where
supernatural powers lend their aid to dignify some human festival. All
the apartment was as fully illuminated as if the broad sun had shone
into it in his fullest splendour; yet not a single light was to be seen.
Soft sounds of music also occasionally floated through the air, but
never so loud as to interrupt the conversation.
At the table all was glitter, and splendour, and luxury; and from the
higher end at which De Blenau sat, the long perspective of the hall,
decked out with all a mighty kingdom's wealth and crowded with the gay,
the bright, and the fair, offered an interminable view of beauty and
magnificence.
I might describe the passing of the banquet, and the bright smiles that
were given, and the bright things that were said. I might enlarge upon
the crowd of domestics, the activity of the seneschals and officers, and
tell of the splendour of the decorations. I might even introduce the
famous court fool, L'Angeli, who stood behind the chair of his young
lord the Duke d'Enghien. But no--a master's hand has given to the world
so many splendid pictures of such scenes, that mine would seem but a
feeble imitation. Let such things rest with Scott, whose magic wand has
had power to call up the spirit of the past with as much truth, as if it
were again substantially in being.
To pursue our theme, however. The Cardinal de Richelieu, who held in his
hand the fate of all who sat around him, yielded to his guests the most
marked attention, treating them with the profound humility of great
pride; trying to quell the fire of his eye, till it should become
nothing but affability; and to soften the deep tones of his voice, from
the accent of command to an expression of gentle courtesy; but
notwithstanding all his efforts, a degree of that haughtiness with which
the long habit of despotic rule had tinged his manners, would
occasionally appear, and still show that it was the lord entertaining
his vassals. His demeanour towards De Blenau, however, was all suavity
and kindness. He addressed him several times in the most marked manner
during the course of the banquet, and listened to his reply with one of
those approving smiles, so sweet upon the lips of power.
De Blenau was not to be deceived, it is true. Yet though he knew that
kindness to be assumed on purpose to betray, and the smile to be as
false as Hell, there was a fascination in the distinction shown him,
against which he could not wholly guard his heart. His brow unbent of
its frown, and he entered into the gay conversation which was going on
around; but at that moment he observed the Cardinal glance his eye
towards Chavigni with a meaning smile.
De Blenau marked it. "So," thought he, "my Lord Cardinal, you deem me
your own." And as the guests rose, De Blenau took his leave, and
returned with Chavigni to the Place Royale.